Loki | MCU (subtletrick) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2012-11-26 00:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | loki |
Who? Loki (Open to Darcy, otherwise narrative)
What? Depowering!
Where? Loki/Darcy's apartment
When? Monday, 11/26/12, 12am, Lawrence time!
Why? Because this dude is addicted to writing me narratives, I dunno.
Warnings? None really? Pain? Open-ended narrative format? Nah, really it's pretty tame though.
The clock striking midnight caught Loki by surprise, the sound ringing out, his head rising from where it had been bent over the pages of some old tome he'd uncovered in the complex's magical library shelves. Darcy was likely asleep, by now, he realized, a faint wash of guilt flooding over him. It had not been his intent to leave her to fall asleep alone; he had merely intended to finish this one page he was reading... but evidently one page had turned into a great many more, and it had been approximately an hour, now. He would have to apologize, perhaps make it up to her somehow, so she did not fear he was slipping back towards the obsessive state she had been so worried about, before.
Then, everything shifted.
At first, there was just pain. Loki was not entirely sure where it came from - there was no pin-pointing it, on his body. His limbs did not hurt, his body did not hurt - and yet it all did, at once. It was everywhere and nowhere all at once, a fire burning without causing damage, like alcohol fumes aflame. He was grateful that he was seated, as he was not certain he could have remained standing, otherwise; he curled in on himself, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily, trying not to cry out. He did not need to wake Darcy. Did he? Surely this would pass?
And then it did, and he let out a breath - only to draw the next one in sharply as he realized what, exactly, had been burning away from him.
His magic was gone. Completely. It was not as it had been after the incident with Dark - still there, but too dim to touch it. Then, he had simply been too exhausted, had used up everything in him. Similiarly, he had depleted himself just a few days prior, but at least then after some rest he had been able to do basic spells again.
This was neither of those things.
This was different.
This was horrifying and paralyzing and crippling all at once. Loki was not entirely sure how to function, for a moment - like he was missing his limbs, like half of his brain had been scraped from his skull. His book was gone. Why was his book gone? That didn't make sense, did it? He stared blankly at his hands for a long time before he realized something else was wrong, too:
His hands - they weren't blue. Why weren't they blue? Without his magic, the shift should have defaulted. Shouldn't it? This didn't make sense. Did it? Should it have made sense?
When he finally gathered his legs beneath him and made his way in to where Darcy slept, he hesitated in the doorway, unsure, feeling for all the world like a child after a nightmare. What, exactly, did he intend to have her do about it? There was nothing she could do. She was still breathing softly under the covers, subtle rise and fall of her covered shape in the lamplight - she was okay. He should not wake her. He did not know what else to do.