Who: Loki & Katherine Where: Kylo's and Heather's place What: Talking When: Backdated to yesterday Rating: Low Open: To Kylo and Heather Status: Unfinished - just wanted to save this here because my computer keeps being a pain Kat had been reading all afternoon. She had not wanted to face the world, so she had switched open an ebook and started reading. It was a worthwhile distraction. A gripping murder mystery. An old-school whodunit. A major suspect had just been provided with an alibi – an affair he had originally tried to hide – when the knock sounded. The young woman put away the book and got up to open the bedroom door. Heather, she suspected. With another batch of baked fineries.
It wasn’t Heather. It was him. She had only ever seen him on a screen. Standing almost a head higher than her, he was taller than she would have thought. Her heart began to race! Fear began to grip it. She did the only thing she could: she stepped back and slammed the door shut. Fuck!
She stepped back. Panic now solely took control. What should she do? Ideas of what he was here for sprang into her mind. Both Brynhild and Rhysand had stressed that her parents loved her but she could not see it. Not this psychopath, not after the conversation she had had with her mother.
“Katherine…” There was his voice. She sucked in a breath. “All I want is a conversation.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Immediate response. Fear was driving her every decision.
“I understand.” His voice was plain. No sneering, no superiority. It must be part of his plan. There was a pause. She didn’t know what to add and maybe he had gone. Maybe he had listened. But moments later she was to realise that this had not been the case. Her biological father stepped through the door. He stepped through the fucking door. Katherine backed away into a corner. The room had been her shelter but now its walls had been torn down. Loki seemed to realise what he had done and raised his hands. “I mean no harm child. Spare me a mere ten minutes of your time and if you wish me to leave by the end of them, I will.”
She stared at him in his black suit with eyes and a face that were so much like her own. She hated him for it. She did not want to look like him.
“Does my look irritate you?” he asked and she stared back. Every word she could mutter might irritate him enough to hurt her. A moment later he flicked his fingers and his appearance changed. Uncanny features with brown hair and brown eyes. Height a little smaller. An illusion. “Is that better?”
She shrugged, feeling the pressure to answer in some way. “You are still you.”
The trickster sighed and folded his hands behind his back. “I am afraid that is nothing I can change, child.” A low chuckle escaped. “Katherine, I won’t tell you what you should think of me…” His words were deliberate, and it brought a wariness to the young girl. But there was something else in them as well. He sounded tired.
“Why?” she asked. The other face helped. Maybe that had been part of his plan. She needed to stay alert with him.
“Because you have a strong mind, daughter.” A rush ran through her body at the mere word. “It would be an insult to your intellect if I would.”
She mulled this over for a moment. While she craved the freedom he offered, her wariness was still warning her. “I’m not falling for flattery.”
What he did next surprised her: he laughed. Not the hollow cackle she expected but a true laugh. “Of course not,” he stated with an amused smile on his lips. “And I’m glad… your affection would mean nothing if it were won with flattery.”
The scenes from the movies replayed in her head. The mere suggestion that she could ever feel any sort of affection for this man was revolting. “Why do you want it anyway? I can’t mean that much to you. You are a god. You think yourself better than everyone else. I’m just… me.”