Hours after the damage was done, Clarice retreated to her dormitory. She took a long shower to get the stench of sludge, slime and salt-water off of her body and out her hair. Without asking, she ‘borrowed’ clothes from one of the students as petite as she was. Clarice wanted to do the right thing and return the lime dress, sandals and accessories she wore when the day was done, but she knew in her heart she wouldn’t.
Fuchsia colors fanned around the door when the trickster god tapped his knuckles against it. There was no doubt that Clarice was in her room; effervescence of her powers at work were unmistaken, and the sweet voice that responded to the knock left no room for doubt.
“…It’s open…”
As attuned to the ether as Loki was, surely he could sense that she was busy making pink windows scattered throughout various parts of the world: New York City, London, Hong Kong, and Paris. But unlike her earlier fit, where her portals would have taken her to food bistros and fancy restaurants, each of them now revealed a door leading towards a Victorian estate, penthouse suite or an iron gate surrounding a castle at night.