Dear Diary,

Last night got a little rough. Endless repetitions of basic sword attacks and parries left my arms sore, but weren't quite enough of a core workout to leave me tired enough to sleep through most of the nightmares. I woke up screaming once, but managed to get back to sleep after sitting there shivering a while. Immediately dropped into Locked in a Box Boredom, woke up as I fell asleep in the box. I really need to sort out what's causing those, because honestly that one fucks me up worse than the other one. Waking up screaming costs me sleep. Waking up as I'm going to sleep in my dream leaves me completely out of sorts.

I crunched my way out my door, wondering idly why they kept putting the Devotional enchantment back on my door. Gotta be some kind of bureaucratic bullshit going on. Or Sister Trease. 'Stupid and annoying', thy name is Trease.

At breakfast we got the full spread, including bacon. I kinda felt bad about the other ROTCs missing it, so I nabbed half of the last tray of bacon. The other three didn't say anything, although Raven raised an eyebrow. Before heading out for the day, I walked down to Saffron's room and crunched my way in. She knelt on the floor in front of her shrine, Isnomi leaning back against her thighs. She looked up at me, surprise and annoyance in equal measure on her face and in her voice. "The fuck, Diaz?"

"Bacon's back on the menu, figured I'd drop some off for you."

"I'm supposed to be fasting."

I shrugged, set about half of the bacon on her desk, and left with a whispered, "Sorry. See you tomorrow?" She rolled her eyes and nodded before I got the door closed. I visited Angel and Bill, leaving half of what remained for each of them. Angel took the visit in stride, asking me to set the bacon on her Altar, and Bill straight up took it out of my hands and started eating. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

I let the Guards know I'd be staying on the grounds today, then walked over to the west side of the Academy's hill, where I could see the Schuylkill river flowing toward the Delaware. I sat down on the grass and said, "Hey Loki, you up to loafing around talking today?"

Between one moment and the next he appeared, sitting facing the river with his knees drawn up in front of him. I walked over behind him and dropped to my knees, leaving me a great angle to get to his shoulders. I reached over and started massaging them. My left hand chose that moment to burn itself in effigy, but I shoved mana into my left arm until the whole thing screamed in protest; when I stopped it still fucked off to Bora Bora, but it did what I told it to and kept working Loki's shoulder. He managed to groan out, "I thought I said no flirting?"

I rolled my eyes, but never stopped working on his shoulders, which were about as tense as you'd expect from someone being tortured constantly for millennia on end. "Not every physical contact is flirting. Hell, not even every intimate physical contact is flirting. Although if this counts as flirting with Sigyn, I'll allow it."

He leaned his head back to look me in the eye. "I never thought you were so rules oriented?"

"Pfft. You must be rubbing off on me. Want me to stop?" He just groaned and flopped his head back forward. "Seriously, if you want me to stop, just say so. Also, if you want me to come visit and give you and Sigyn some alone time, just let me know in advance so I can be dressed for the occasion, okay?"

"Mmm. Next Monday?"

"You got it, boss."

We sat there for a while like that, until his shoulders felt less 'rock hard' and more 'heavy clay'. Without saying anything, I rolled him over, straddled his waist, and went to work on the rest of his back. "You know, I could reach your whole back better if you were a little smaller."

Without a word, he shrank down until I could reach his entire back without bending over too far. After a minute or so, he asked, "I must know, how did you know I could even feel this?"

"You lost track of my hand when I Blended."

He nodded without ever lifting his head from his arms. After a while I asked, "Mind if I ask a few questions while I've got you here?"

"Right now I think I would grant you any boon save those that would annoy my wife." He didn't groan, but his voice never got far from it.

I nodded, working on his back while I worked myself up to my next question. "What's a Primordial?"

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After a few moments' silence, he said, "Primordials are the oldest beings that exist. Titans. Giants. Mor. Every pantheon has a few. They are embodiments of the primal forces of nature."

I let that digest for a bit before asking, "So, they're like Elder Gods?"

I got the impression he wanted to shake his head, but didn't because massage good. "No, that title goes to the children of Primordials. They frequently, but not always, have some connection to their Primordial parent's portfolios."

What with us not having anything pressing and a whole day to kill, I thought about that for a while as well before something popped out at me, "Wait, when you said 'Giants', were you talking about Jotun? Err... Jotnar?"

If he noticed my slip, he didn't seem to care. "Some of them. Ymir, for example, is the embodiment of glaciers, of the pack ice that covers the poles of the world."

"And what does Laufey represent?"

He chuckled a little, "Just when I believe you're as dim as you claim, you give that the lie by being far more perceptive than anyone who knows you would believe."

"I have my moments. Laufey?"

"Laufey who is Nal represents the trees which defy the cold and grow despite the frozen ground. Her very existence defies Ymir. I get my rebellious nature from her."

I nodded, another piece falling into place. "So you're an Elder God then?"

"I am. Technically. As you have seen, I am hardly a Power to be feared, Elder God or not."

"So. Gods, Elder Gods, and Primordials. Any others out there I should know about, what with the whole 'Champion and High Priestess' thing?"

He pushed himself up just enough to turn his head to look at me. "Don't think me ungrateful, but I did not think you would take the titles seriously enough to study for them."

I shrugged, plonking his head back down so I could work his shoulders again. "You're my friend. You trusted me with something I kinda assume is important to you. I might be the laziest bitch on the planet, but I try not to let my friends down. Sometimes I even manage it."

Loki snorted out, "friend," and shook his head a little.

"You telling me you don't want me as a friend?" My hands went still, the left acknowledging my cessation of movement by electrocuting itself.

"Oh, far from it, I find your friendship a treasure beyond measure. But I laugh at myself, both that I've fallen so far as to be friends with a mortal, and that my self in my heyday would have been stupid enough to be angry with you for your incorrigible familiarity." My hands went back to work, and he groaned a little as I worked out a knot just below his shoulderblade.

"So, any other rankings there?"

"I suppose the complete list would be 'Demigod, God, Elder God, Primordial'."

"If Elder Gods are the children of Primordials, how do Gods and Demigods happen?"

Loki groaned a bit more as I kept working at that knot, then hissed as it finally relaxed. "Different ways. Gods are sometimes the children of Elder Gods; Fenris would be an excellent example. Others are Demigods that managed to accrue enough Glory to promote themselves to full Godhood. You've met one of those, and I recommend you stay on his good side."

"The Smith?" I guessed.

"No. The Monkey King. He's a trickster, and quite possibly one of the more dangerous Gods in existence."

"You're talking about the short, hairy guy?"

"That's the one. Were he a different kind of vain, he would probably smite you for calling him short."

I let that simmer a while and worked down to his lower back. "So, Gods are the children of Elder Gods or Demigods who got themselves promoted. How do Demigods happen?"

"The most common method is when a God has a child with a mortal. I wouldn't say you've met one, but I'm sure you saw Heracles next to Ares when we crashed his party."

It took me a moment to remember the dude standing next to Bronze Age Roid Rage, but once I did I nodded, "Okay. you said most common. How did the Smith become a Demigod?"

"How are you so certain that he is?"

"I can't see you being quite that afraid of a mortal."

He shook his head, groaning as I worked out another knot. When he'd got his voice back, he said, "Again, your perception startles me at the oddest of times. A mortal who accrues enough Glory can become a Demigod."

"How much?"

He snorted, "Looking to become a Demigod?"

I laughed, "I'd say the thought of that kind of power gets me off, but I'm not sure I want to risk winding up imprisoned forever."

"You think you'd wind up at odds with the Gods so deeply they would treat you as they have me?"

"Yeah, I can't see me being anything but a Trickster, and you guys wind up getting the ass end of the deal way too often."

That made him go silent a while. I finished up his back, scooted back a bit, and worked on his thighs. In between his groans I asked, "So how much Glory does someone need to become a Demigod?"

He managed to force out, "enough to change themselves to retain Glory. Which is difficult, because no God would willingly hand over that much Glory to a mortal. The Smith is one example; he terrified some Demigods into giving him enough Glory to deify himself."

"Huh. So if I wanted to be a Demigod, which I do not, I would need to do something so Glorious that my share would be enough for that?"

That got a laugh out of him, one uninhibited by me mauling his back. "Oh, my precocious Champion and Priestess most High, should you ever change your mind, simply tell me. That would be the final path to Demigod of which I'm aware, to have another deity canonize you as a Demigod."

"Really? I kinda thought you liked having me as a Champion and Priestess."

"Despite my current straits, I am technically an Elder God. As such, I have rights and privileges, one of which is having a Demigod as my Champion and High Priestess."

I nodded my understanding before asking, "Would you do it if you weren't?"

He went silent for a long while after that. Around noon, after I'd finished his feet and arms, he insisted we switch places. I hadn't nearly as many awful knots as he did, thanks to bi-weekly Marie rubdowns, but he managed to make the few that he found let go. As the sun neared the horizon, he whispered, "Damn me for a fool, but yes, Tabitha Diaz, if you asked, I would."