st_ratagem

The increasing frequency of sunshine and warmth meant Loki spent slightly more time at the beach than he had before. It was true that he could make (or repair) nets anywhere, and the only one other than himself who was inclined to use them was the girl Moana, but it seemed... appropriate, at times, to work on nets near where they would be used.

Besides, he'd always found the ocean peaceful. Somehow solitude never seemed to turn into loneliness by the sea... or perhaps it did, but the loneliness didn't cut.

Regardless, it was far from unheard of for Loki to disappear from the immediate Inn grounds to go sit on the sandy beach with his projects. Despite the sunny near-summer weather and the increasing heat on the beach, he dressed more or less as he normally did; a long-sleeved buttoned shirt and slacks. His sole concession to the sunny beach was bare feet rather than shoes.

Goldfish, it turned out, were hypnotic. They swirled around, sometimes in a school and sometimes random, mostly empty fish minds mostly a dull, whispery hum. Despite that, it was easy to see little fish stories unfolding and little cliques forming and breaking up. There were reasons Loki had filched a roomy armchair from elsewhere in the Inn and set it up near the tank: he, Valkyrie, or both together spent enough time fish-watching that comfort was called for.

At present there seemed to be a small cadre of goldfish endlessly circling the same decorative rock, chasing off all the other fish when they approached. It could have been just a gang with territory, but Loki and Valkyrie had decided it was a fishy cult, worshipping the rock as a god. Valkyrie had suggested a small statue of him more than once, to see if the fish cult would abandon their rock. He’d laughed, but he had created their world and provided their food, so... it wasn’t that ridiculous.

Regardless, the fish continued to circle their rock. Holy wars were something to work up to.

Without an axe, breaking down a tree was a tough proposition. Loki worked a transformation on one of his knives, rendering it serrated, close to a saw. Breaking down the tree to component parts was a challenge, but it had to be done. Ash branched vertically from the trunk on a true mountain ash, which this was, which meant that any branch could conceivably make a decent staff. There was no ‘smaller branches at the top nonsense’.

Because he’d asked for help hauling, Loki was handling the breakdown himself, which meant that he was more casually dressed than usual in jeans and a t-shirt; his usual Asgardian leathers or Midgardian suits were not for working in.

He’d hacked off two branches by the time he became aware he had company. “If you’re not Valkyrie, you’ll just have to cope with the hallway being full of tree.”