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This answers the much asked question: Where does Bobby get his books?
...spn thor...
Magic was different in this variant of Midgard, Loki learned. It was brighter and flamed if he drew too close, yet at the same time parts of its purity twisted into dark shadows which threatened oblivion if he drew too close.
Were he not a master of magics, Loki felt that the task of balancing in the grey area between to power his spells would be near impossible.
Oh yes, and there were other gods in this place- strange constructs powered by blood and belief. Loki had come across the All Father's counterpart by accident, and dearly wished to never repeat the experience.
However, it was through that encounter that Loki learned about another Loki- a true god as the word was used here. The idea of running into himself without the use of magical duplicates interested the former god enough that he kept half an eye out for anything resembling his style. It also frightened him enough to change his name for practical purposes, lest someone accidentally summon him.
Well, not so much change, as modify to an older version. Logi was what the teachers of magic called him back on Asguard, because his mind devoured books like fire.
Despite the initial setback of his powers failing and needing to escape from the town of terrified mortals who spotted him (blue skin and the tendency to turn whatever he touched to ice still, apparently, roused a few screams), Loki felt that he had settled quite nicely into his new, if temporary, life in Midgard.
Of course 'temporary' for an immortal could stretch into decades, so Loki bought the little book shop under the name Logan L. Smith and lived happily in the apartment above.
One might question how a small book business could survive competing against the larger company run corporations with their little cafes and couches. The truth was that Loki's shop was just a front to keep his book collection in. He even went out of his way to make the atmosphere dim and dusty to avert any potential buyers.
Despite his best efforts though, a select group of clientell managed to push past the dreary exterier to discover the pages of real magical texts hidden beneath. Loki refused to part with his books, but could on occasion be coerced into photocopying a page or two of rituals for the right price.
He never let himself be bothered to join his clients on their various quests to hunt monsters or break such and such a curse no matter how much they begged him- he had enough of that following Thor around when they were teenagers, thank you very much.
(Though if a book detailing exactly what they were hunting and how to kill it happened to fall into their hands, well, Loki couldn't be blamed for that could he?)
Yes, the former god was thoroughly enjoying his vacation. Now if only he could figure out how to get back to his own universe to teach his 'loving family' a lesson...
The bell on the shop door rang, and Loki looked up from his musings. Three men entered- or at least three men shaped things entered.
Loki watched with interest as the tallest of the group (smelt like darkness, but too human to be a demon or skin walker) ran a hand over the book spines, eyes growing wider with each title.
The one with short hair (his body reeked with healing spells no older than a year. Loki mused what state his body must have been in to warrant such a lingering aftertaste)
stood awkwardly between two shelves, unsure of where to put his hands. He settled, finally, with shoving them into the pockets of his leather jacket.
The one with dark hair stared fixedly at Loki with unblinking blue eyes (they matched the pulsating swathe of burning magics contained just under the being's skin, though it appeared to be growing weaker).
Loki stared back, one hand supporting his head as he leaned on the counter.
"Can I help you?" He asked at last, tired of the giant prodding his collection.
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