Hel. The serpent's heart thumped one slow beat as he remembered her. He had had her for a time; her calm presence, her soul as sure as his own that all was in its right place. Her human skin had behaved strangely at times, but her spirit had always been everything it needed to be. Uncharacteristically he wondered if he might ever see her again in this human life; at some point their spirits would call to one another, but he knew well that could take aeons or more. His tongue flicked out. He moved on.
He seemed to smile at the mention of Urðr, his companion and seeming soul mate. Though the conversation rightly carried on he took note of his father's interest, intent upon reintroducing him to his dearest friend as soon as he was able. It would be simple enough to arrange even in Adam's skin, he thought, their proximity making meetings a simple thing to occur, orchestrated or not.
Jörmungandr tipped his heavy head to one side, his smile softening, though not fading altogether, at Loki's apt assessment. Most others, I believe, he said. It's taken a year or more for some of them to even entertain the idea in their own private thoughts. And considering the year some of them have had... ritualistically murdered bodies turning up, dreams, transformations, amazing violence... that's saying something. Most humans want to think or to discover they're special. These are and fight it at every turn. His laugh was quiet, almost rueful. Rightly so. The modern world thinks it has no place for such things. Our influence, certainly, but not our physical manifestations. Like as not they'd end up in chemically induced stupors or padded rooms, at best, were they to admit what they're starting to know.