Stuttering, cold and damp (for coldsong)

[amourpeint]

It was one thing to know your world had boundaries. It was only natural, a horizon only spread so far, the land only stretched to a certain point. The world the Canvas somewhat mimicked was vast to be sure, but round- one would only wind up back where they started someday. The Canvas only went as far as it's young creator cared to let it, a vast continent and wild seas, but the idea of more was a tenuous thing for a child, so it was little surprise that the bounds of his created world had more obvious barriers. Where other Painters with more experience might mask the sight with walls or mountains, curtains of rain or leaves, there was no such blinders here, just letting those who existed in the Canvas and dared draw close see the oil-slick shimmer of paint and magic that sustained their world. Verso knew better than to test the barriers, knew that the wild chaos of the chroma that swirled there would simply unmake anyone or anything unfortunate enough to try and pass into the maelstrom.

Not that he could try it himself. Aline had wanted her painted family protected, which meant immortality, which meant that he was all the more restricted from so much as touching the edges of the world.

Given her meticulous skill and control, it was a testament to the impact grief had on her that the same care didn't seem to have been taken in the Monolith itself. At least none of the others had been there. He'd come back on his own, not sure what he'd been looking for. And without the Paintress to sustain it, the edifice had become all the more unstable, paths and bridges that had once been stable and safe to traverse suddenly treacherous. Feeling the stone crumble under his boots, unable to catch an edge, Verso expected a rather unpleasant tumble and an even more unpleasant landing. Here was hoping he could recover before Monoco came looking for him. He'd never hear the end of it.

And yet... the fall continued. The world around him went dark, and he felt something wrong as he tumbled through the void. It was a lucky thing that he didn't feel like he was falling any faster, in fact the rate seemed almost gentle, which meant when he was suddenly blinded by the sudden wash of sunlight, and hit what seemed to be smooth bright stone paths in an absolutely graceless sprawl, it wasn't nearly as messy or traumatizing for anyone who happened to see it happen.

Comments

[amourpeint]

"It works better some eras than others, admittedly." People were people, with all their flaws and failings. Powers didn't change that, just amplified them in some. But like Loki, Verso was content to leave that debate for another time.

It was the next part he was more concerned about. That furrow of brow showed that the godling had cottoned onto the ethical dilemma- one that was still quite in debate back home as far as Verso recalled. Assuming said Painter or Writer or whatever even thought of their creations as sapient. Also in contention.

He couldn't help but be startled at the response. Loki had proven to be personable, nice to be sure when he wished, but there was a difference between that sort of kindness to a stranger in his realm and the empathy inherent in that offer of safety. It took him a moment to sort through the surprise before he continued on, wanting to somewhat reassure Loki, as well as keep himself a bit separated from the drama he'd come from. He could manage that. A simple enough thing with what he'd given so far.

"The Canvas... wasn't a bad one, I can say that much. It's Painter was a child when he made it, and it was mostly maintained like that until his passing some years down the line. Unfortunately his family is still... grieving. And their conflict has made things somewhat... tense as I'm sure you could imagine," A faint huff, a wry smile, because... honestly, maybe this was for the best? All Verso wanted in the Canvas was to be Unmade. Here... maybe there was something more for him. At the very least he wasn't living under the shadow of a dead man if he remained. "I can't say I'd mind staying though."

[coldsong]

Loki wouldn't go so far as to say he can sense an individual's soul. There are probably illusions and constructs and artificial intelligences that would slip through under his radar, but it's easier and kinder to err on the side of assuming one is speaking to a person than not. There is something simple and commonsense about the way he assumes and accepts it, perhaps: two qualities Loki does not have in abundance. But still, he's sitting here talking to someone who exhibits the full emotional spectrum, who seems to be cautious with information, who appears to be running from something.

Yes, he wants to help.

He seems a little relieved to hear that Verso's Canvas wasn't an inherently terrible place, but really it almost doesn't matter. Even an idyllic paradise entirely under the control of a single person, flawed but omnipotent in the space they command, is terrifying.

He nods, expression shifting subtly from relief to concern and back again. "If you want to stay, I can argue your case according to our laws. You might be remanded to Vanaheim rather than the Asgardian capital itself, but there's no real difference in laws. It's just more farmland and forest, and fewer cities. Either way, I suspect you'd be more comfortable there than here. You'd have to fake a ridiculous amount of documentation to get around down here."

[amourpeint]

Verso could agree with that. Their Canvas was lucky, in that it's creator was a child who did see his creations as individuals, with souls and sapience, that he loved his Canvas and all of the creatures in it, and wanted more than anything for it's denizens to be happy and fulfilled. Crafted it around a sense of joy and discovery, a whimsy that never quite slid to the horrific. Who as he grew, realized it would be more responsible of him to step back, to let the Canvas exist without him meddling with his abilities, let the people who called it home determine it's direction.

Their Canvas was also unlucky in becoming the bone of contention in the feud that followed his demise. But that was something a bit more fraught in the telling.

"You're likely right," Verso mused, finding a bit of relief in the consideration. That there were options for him. "I thought at first... there's a city in the Canvas that mirrors Paris. But I'd estimated that this was still the Earth I knew, so it wouldn't be so difficult to get by, not... another one, apparently?"

A soft, breathless little laugh. "Merde."