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Loki | MCU (subtletrick) wrote in toboldlyrpg,

Loki | Open
On the surface, Loki sits at a table alone, close to the windows, with a cup of some hot beverage between his hands, eyes fixed on the stars just outside. It reminds him of home, in some ways - of sitting out on the Bifrost, just watching the universe unfold infinitely before his eyes, watching the glimmers against the darkness. It was always a good place to think, a good place for peace, especially in more recent years when his brother had stopped seeking him out when he disappeared.

Thor. Not “his brother”. Loki’s fingers curled around the cup a little tighter and he blinked back to the present. The spaces between the stars here were wrong - too close, too far, too… different to truly be familiar. Loki had a very good memory, had spent a long time gazing at stars and committing them to memory in his studies - and he could not recognize a single one.

His thoughts were as an ocean tonight, storm-swept waves of thoughts crashing against the walls and barricades he’d created long ago, the ones meant to protect him from intruders and meant to keep him from bleeding magic and emotion out into the world around him. He and his mother she wasn’t his mother had spent days and weeks creating them together, when he’d first started learning to use his gifts, and then he’d spent even longer on his own, fortifying, because she couldn’t know how to pass them all, either.

They were holding, but he was not accustomed to the intensity of it, he was not used to feeling cold.

He was not truly cold - he could not remember ever truly feeling cold, and that-

-that was part of the problem, was it not?

Even the touch of a Jotun did not make him feel cold, at least not in a way that he could recognize as such. It wasn’t crippling, did not send his body into the learned patterns of hypothermia - he did not shiver and he did not feel tired or sluggish. If anything, it had driven his energy up, a frantic sort of energy that had only grown when he’d touched the Casket of Ancient Winters, still clung to him now, despite how perfectly still he sat, eyes fixed on the stars and mind turned inward, trying to come up with some solution to the raging sea inside him that could sweep him away and drown him.

Perhaps that was what happened. Perhaps that is why he had encountered two people so far who knew him, some other time and place, as a monster. Because wasn’t that what he was? Wasn’t that exactly what the fiber of his being was? Monster. It only made sense that he would inevitably break the shell of Loki and become something else, did it not?

How long would it take? How long did he have before he became what they were all afraid of?