Who: Shan & Loki Where: Their bedroom When: Middle of the night What: Talking and shit Status: Closed
Two am. Everything was dark. Loki had drawn back to the armchair in the corner. He could have left the room. There was no sleep to be had when his mind was at the edge of the abyss. But he could not leave. Watching the living breathing - he made sure to check this every few minutes with a glance - form on the bed gave him a sense of comfort.
Loki himself looked far from alive. The black shadow that the stones have brought was spread over the left side of his face and ran down his body, across his chest and along his arms. Where it touched it had eaten into his flesh, bones visible in some places. Most other places had recovered. The skin still looked pale but at least it was not peeling off his flesh.
The man he had become was so different from the Prince he used to be. It had all gone downhill with his father's lies. Then Thanos had come and made it worse. The god could not deny the role he had played in the demise of Asgard and it certainly was not for the lack of trying. But, however, he spun the story things would have gone differently if he had made different decisions. The guilt was corroding his sanity. Not caring was so much easier. Sometimes he wished he could just go back to a point when he had nothing. When you had nothing you had nothing to lose. When you had nothing you did not need to feel like this.