|Loki | MCU (subtletrick) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2012-12-02 21:31:00
|Entry tags:||darcy lewis, loki, ruby winchester, sam winchester|
Who? Loki, Demon!Darcy (and Darcy), driveby Sam&Ruby
Posting Order: TBD
What? Finding, tazing, depossessing, angst, and more!
Where? A dark creepy alley where Sam lured demonDarcy. Because classy.
Darcy's iPod had appeared before his eyes, materializing on the table before him as Loki sat, trying to be patient, waiting for a location - and he had felt some bittersweet, nauseating combination of hope and grief, in that moment. Was this a sign that things were returning to normal? The iPod had been one of the items the seal had granted to Darcy, after all, and it had gone missing like his powers had.
But his magic remained dark, and nothing else seemed to change.
He had passed the rest of the time speaking with the demon on the board accompanied by the music on Darcy's device, alternating between the playlists with their so very Darcy names, unable to settle on anything because it ached, but the idea of turning it off and being without that reminder made things no better.
Loki knew demons lied. But even the best liars knew when to use the truth - he certainly knew this, had learned it a long time ago, something that came naturally, had nothing to do with tricks and magic and everything to do with the way people's minds worked, what truths were more painful than even the cruellest deception. It was difficult, then, to be entirely certain exactly how much of the demon's words were barbed truths, and how many were simply lies. He knew that Darcy, when she was inevitably freed from this possession, would likely deny much of what was said - perhaps all of it. But, then, that, too, would be lies.
It did not matter. Regardless, he needed her back.
The location he was given by Sam Winchester was the same as the one Ruby offered moments later - so he wasted no time in gathering up his armor, pulling the heavy leather and metal on - slow work, without magic, and the weight of it was far greater than he was used to without his strength being as it usually was. Mortal, like this, he was aware of it with every step he took. The coat had to go - he was more than warm enough without it, beneath all these layers, and he needed what flexibility he could manage. The small weapon was tucked into his belt, beside his usual throwing knives and the iPod, now turned off, in one of the pouches on the side, and then he was off.
On foot, it took far longer than he would have liked, to arrive. Normally it would have been mere moments. Normally, none of this would have been an issue. Still, it was not terribly far - and he was not slowed by anything alone the way, for which he was grateful.
As he stepped into the alley where he had been directed, his hand fell to the weapon at his belt, and he stepped as silently as possible, slinking in the shadows, waiting to catch sight of someone before he made any move to attack, waiting to see what was going to happen, here.