It is said that daemons are reflections of the soul, many facets squeezed into one creature, to embody form and function. People with dog daemons usually become guards, those with snakes seem to gravitate towards politics and so on. There have been centuries of study dedicated to the existence of daemons and what they represent.
Gods having daemons though . . . was new. Even Jim, who had seen a lot of crazy stuff, often found himself staring at Loki's daemon, Sabella, with her crisp grey coat and dark yellow eyes. Fox daemons themselves were not rare, but the colouring was unusual enough to merit a longer glance. Even Aurel, a rare golden tanager, who prided himself at being the one people took note of, found Loki's daemon of interest.
"It's almost silver," Aurel would mutter, jealous, and Jim would repress a snicker at his disgust. Lately, they've been closer than over, ever since the reactor, where Jim locked Aurel out of the chamber and dragged himself away to fix the ship. Each step away was a blow, more painful than any wound he had ever received. It was not something he would repeat, watching Spock wilt as his wolf howled piteously, clawing at the glass. And Aurel, Aurel stood there, full of grief and judgement as flecks of his skin peeled off to fade away, the unraveling of them both.
How they were brought back, together again . . . it's a mystery. Many people had asked, tried to document it. He politely refused while Aurel warbled, purposefully annoying and grating.
Loki never talked about it, ever. He simply couldn't bring himself to and Sabella always watched them out of the corner of her eyes. At times, it was unnerving, to be the scrutiny of a daemon. In some places, it was considered offensive. Jim shrugged it off. Aurel preened.
"It's me, you realize," Jim pointed out. Aurel simply sniffed inaudibly, "All attention is good attention."
That's not true, never has been, but Aurel, like Jim, knows how to play a part. And if he shivers at night, cold at heart and bone, while death creeps into his mind, Sabella will curl up at his feet knowingly while Loki's hands would brush over the trembling Aurel in peace.
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jim/loki
Gods having daemons though . . . was new. Even Jim, who had seen a lot of crazy stuff, often found himself staring at Loki's daemon, Sabella, with her crisp grey coat and dark yellow eyes. Fox daemons themselves were not rare, but the colouring was unusual enough to merit a longer glance. Even Aurel, a rare golden tanager, who prided himself at being the one people took note of, found Loki's daemon of interest.
"It's almost silver," Aurel would mutter, jealous, and Jim would repress a snicker at his disgust. Lately, they've been closer than over, ever since the reactor, where Jim locked Aurel out of the chamber and dragged himself away to fix the ship. Each step away was a blow, more painful than any wound he had ever received. It was not something he would repeat, watching Spock wilt as his wolf howled piteously, clawing at the glass. And Aurel, Aurel stood there, full of grief and judgement as flecks of his skin peeled off to fade away, the unraveling of them both.
How they were brought back, together again . . . it's a mystery. Many people had asked, tried to document it. He politely refused while Aurel warbled, purposefully annoying and grating.
Loki never talked about it, ever. He simply couldn't bring himself to and Sabella always watched them out of the corner of her eyes. At times, it was unnerving, to be the scrutiny of a daemon. In some places, it was considered offensive. Jim shrugged it off. Aurel preened.
"It's me, you realize," Jim pointed out. Aurel simply sniffed inaudibly, "All attention is good attention."
That's not true, never has been, but Aurel, like Jim, knows how to play a part. And if he shivers at night, cold at heart and bone, while death creeps into his mind, Sabella will curl up at his feet knowingly while Loki's hands would brush over the trembling Aurel in peace.