Same cellars, new lair
Aug 24, 2011 0:15:47 GMT -5
Post by Loki Odinsson on Aug 24, 2011 0:15:47 GMT -5
For the first few days, Loki slept off and on, curled in a corner like a frightened snake while visions only he could see passed before his eyes and through his dreams.
They twisted and blended together, his memories and his lingering unacknowledged hopes and even the strange, twisted things he saw lurking just out of reach during the long fall from the remains of Bifrost.
More than once he imagined his father gently shaking him awake, or that he was a child again and his brother wanted to play.
His brother.
What a miserable joke.
The worst part, however, were the flashes he'd been having since he'd let go of the edge, of a different Asgard, with a laughing, crafty redhead always at the edge of the image, looking pleased and making Loki feel threatened on some instinctive level he couldn't articulate-
When he had his strength back, Loki found the cellars of this vast, tasteless Midgardian theater to contain a veritable complex of available space into which he could conjure furnishings and act out a complicated charade that he was still in Asgard.
He grew weary of the shadow-forms of his former friends and so-called family after another two days, and realized he found it far more entertaining to dispatch them.
When even this had become dull, Loki ventured into the world above to observe humanity going about its dull, meaningless business.
Before long, his lair had also amassed huge collections of print on the subject of the most powerful men and women in Midgard.
So many twisted souls hiding behind masks of respectability.
Loki liked that.
Perhaps he did have something to do before the inevitable arrival of his sainted brother...
They twisted and blended together, his memories and his lingering unacknowledged hopes and even the strange, twisted things he saw lurking just out of reach during the long fall from the remains of Bifrost.
More than once he imagined his father gently shaking him awake, or that he was a child again and his brother wanted to play.
His brother.
What a miserable joke.
The worst part, however, were the flashes he'd been having since he'd let go of the edge, of a different Asgard, with a laughing, crafty redhead always at the edge of the image, looking pleased and making Loki feel threatened on some instinctive level he couldn't articulate-
When he had his strength back, Loki found the cellars of this vast, tasteless Midgardian theater to contain a veritable complex of available space into which he could conjure furnishings and act out a complicated charade that he was still in Asgard.
He grew weary of the shadow-forms of his former friends and so-called family after another two days, and realized he found it far more entertaining to dispatch them.
When even this had become dull, Loki ventured into the world above to observe humanity going about its dull, meaningless business.
Before long, his lair had also amassed huge collections of print on the subject of the most powerful men and women in Midgard.
So many twisted souls hiding behind masks of respectability.
Loki liked that.
Perhaps he did have something to do before the inevitable arrival of his sainted brother...