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God of Mischief (notdoinggethelp) wrote in somerealityrpg,

He'd never been more thankful for his magical abilities than that moment. You didn't wear just anything when having tea with his mother. Although, Loki was fairly certain Frigga would say very little. She was far from the royal many were used to.

Still, he wasn't about to present himself to her in shambles. While he'd kept track of his TVA coat, Loki had little use for the rest of the worn uniform Mobius had given him. That and he had no desire to waltz around with a coat calling him what he was: Variant.

Looking outwardly composed while inwardly shying away like a small child, he gave a gentle tap on the door before allowing himself inside. "I'm sorry if I'm late, Mother." He paused at the sight of her, feeling his chest swell in a mixture of emotions. The same he'd felt watching her death play over and over again.

It had been all his fault.

He'd wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run.