go_mischief (go_mischief) wrote in newalliance, @ 2014-04-13 15:51:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | loki |
Who: Loki (narrative)
Where: Vanaheim/Asgard.
When: March 19th to mid April. (Yes, lots of backdating)
What: So what has Loki been doing all this time? Running, fighting, and ending up in bad spots Tricksters would rather not be. Because it all really does catch up to one in the end.
Rating: PG-13 for some action/violence.
NPC’s: Amora, Fenris, Odin, Hugin, etc.
Sleep did not come easy. His arm was deadening, the pain turning from fiery glass shards to a foreboding numbness. Now the pain all lay in his shoulder, still alive with itching nerves that would flare and complain at the dead, cursed limb.
Pushing the edges of black magic arts and being a warrior of Asgard helped him tolerate it much better. The fever was a different problem, something Aesir and giants were not used to since few things caused them illness. Whether the fever was caused from one of his magic channeling instruments shattering within his limb or for the fact that there was dead flesh clinging to living, he was not sure. Loki felt as though he were burning. Considering the heritage that lurked under his skin, it was terribly uncomfortable.
Worse, his magic was weakened. Magic was much like weaving. Complex spells often took a hand to receive and stabilize energy and a hand to release and cast, ever cycling and controlling the energy. Much of it Loki had learned to do with the subtlety of a focused mind. Trying to heal himself was proving to be more complex. He could only stop the deadness from spreading. More would require time he did not have. So the Trickster sought one of his many contacts, his hoped ally.
Yet even in his bright fever, as soon as Amora arrived in the stony wilderness of Vanaheim, he sensed a betrayal. Loki smiled at her in his usual manner, feigning ignorance as she tsked at him, looked at his arm and explained the extent of the damage, how she might fix it.
“There is a slight problem, however,” she said, stepping away. “Thou never did make good on thine promise that I would receive Thor.”
“Thou art the one whom decided to stay in Asgard and not go to him in Midgard, Amora. I had nothing to do with that choice.”
“Still, for all I have done, thou wouldst think I shouldst have thy brother, whom thou hast been soooo close to lately, delivered to me on a golden platter.” Her smile faded, looking at him coldly. “Or at least the Norn Stones be returned to me. Where are they, Loki? I know thou finally found them.”
“A better place than a boy’s belly,” Loki assured smoothly, his senses stretching out subtly. Oh, yes, indeed, she had company. Aesir were closing in. It seemed Amora had chosen a side and dedicated herself to Asgard’s survival.
Pity.
Amora’s tone turned silky. “If thou wants a new arm, it will be much easier between the two of us and the Stones. Thou art damp and pale and in no condition to delay. We can go to them, if thou wishes.”
“Oh, Amora… Always wanting a peek at all my secrets.” He offered her a lewd grin, eyes glassy. “I suppose thou thinks I am too diminished to argue much on my behalf.” It wasn’t the mirthful bird-like look he gave her now. Instead the focused snake-like gaze caught her. “Thou wouldst be wrong.”
Amora gave a playful little sigh, shoulders starting to sag in disappointment. The sigh was not even fully out before she flicked her hands outward, power raising. Loki moved, a shadow flitting across the cave, all horns and cloak before it rushed for her with a clawed hand. Amora flared with bright light from head to toe so she cast no shadow of her own and allowed the claw no way to reach her. The shadow split and fled before the bright rays as she arched her spine and raised more power. Loki reappeared, leaping from the darkness and sheltering himself behind a wall of stone.
The concussion of power tore the unprotected edge of his green cloak to tatters. Loki lowered his good arm from his eyes, listening to her echoing voice. “Do not make this more difficult, Trickster! Thou art weaker than I am now!”
“So despite how Asgard has wronged us, thou wouldst turn me into them for their favor?”
“I worship life, thou foul twisted thing. As though I wouldst truly support thy bid to end it all.” She sent a new wave of energy rushing through the stone. It shattered, but Loki was no longer there, though his voice taunted her.
“I do not intend to be caged for this. This old bird has seen enough of bars and chains.”
Amora’s glowing eyes cast about, then raised her forearm as a barrage of magical daggers cascade down at her. “Foolish Loki. Thou art a bird with a broken wing. A cage is all thou wilt have.” Her eyes narrowed as she sensed the magics meant to carry Loki far from her, her hand stretching out with a snatching motion. “No, thou wilt not!” She jerked her arm back, and suddenly Loki appeared and slammed on the ground, stone and soil shoved into a deep furrow after him. The Trickster cringed in the dust and falling pebbles, pain stabbing into his shoulder.
“Give up, broken bird,” Amora said sternly, hovering down to where Loki had landed. Only now all she saw was his dirty cloak. He appeared behind her, backhanding between her shoulderblades. She flew from the hit, but braced herself to a stop midair, lashing back at Loki’s energy attack. He had to dodge the energy when it came sailing back toward him from the force of her strike, darker green with lighter green propelling it. Then he spun and caught the arrow before it lodged in his spine.
The Aesir that came with Amora to capture him were within range now. Loki caught glimpses of them among the stone. His hand blurred as he used the caught arrow to knock five more away from himself before lifting it to his lips. He blew a cold breath on it, turning its tip icy and glimmering blue before flicking his wrist and sending it screaming toward Amora as she lobbed another treacherous spell at him. It clipped him, flipping him, but Loki was swiftly on his feet with a rough shake of his horned head to clear his vision.
Amora dodged the arrow, letting it land into a large boulder where ice immediately glazed its surface. Her focus was immediately back on the God of Mischief, who was now flinging daggers at the Aesir soldiers to force them into cover. Amora raised a bubble to capture him, and for a moment it looked like Loki would fail in his struggle to counter the round prison, but then suddenly it shattered. Amora heard the bowstrings thrum. It seemed as though three planted in Loki. He jerked, then his eyes glowed in rage and he rushed toward Amora. The Enchantress raised another bubble, and this time he did seem trapped. The men started to approach cautiously, but she frowned, sensing more closely at the bubble. The sorceress made a motion with her hands, uttering words.
The illusion inside the bubble faded, turning to green smoke. “No!” Amora spun about, but the real Loki had already reached where the ice arrow had landed. The ice had turned into a glassy surface. A reflective surface. He gave a weary salute with his one arm, then slipped through it. Amora was a second too late to motion and shatter the makeshift mirror. Loki had escaped her.
But she was going to do her best to assure it was not for long. She closed her eyes, focusing and searching…
~~~
“Fenris… Dire news, I’m afraid,” Loki said lightly as he wandered into his huge wolfish child’s camp. “It seems Amora has left our ranks.”
Fenris eyed the way he limped and clutched at the sling his useless arm laid in. “Thou looks chewed and spat out, Trickster.”
“A minor… setback…” Loki grinned as he sat down by the fire. “There are other options. Less pleasant, perhaps, but no matter. I was wondering where she truly stood anyhow. Fickle creature.” He looked to the cooking fire, sniffed hopefully. “I don’t suppose thy estranged father might have a morsel?”
“Ah, yes, it is only fitting that the son serve something to the father, yes?” Fenris grinned, and Loki felt a sudden dread. Fenris rarely grinned for anything other than carnage. The God of Mischief was about to be served something, indeed, but it was not going to be savory. Shadows moved beyond the ring of fire, pale bone masks with round eyes closing in as Fenris’ grin faded to a fearsome mask of rage as he stood to his clawed feet.
“Oh, Fenris.” Loki closed his eyes, smiling still as the wolf’s shadow fell over him. “Too tired of fetters, even when mine orders were with the best of intents?” Fenris only growled.
Pity.
~~~
When Amora found Loki, she only shook her head and formed the bubble about him. “Seems everything is catching up to thee these days, Trickster.”
Loki cracked his eyes open, gave a slightly pained nod and faint grin, then went back to sleep. He had a great deal of healing to do if he was to stand before Odin.