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Loki | MCU (subtletrick) wrote in wariscoming,

It was difficult to maintain a healthy degree of anger and wariness when she sounded so genuine - even more, when she stepped forward and the magical image of her faded away, the small power-use as she dismissed the copy of herself registering as the same burst of it he had sensed in the first place, the reason he’d come out here, looking. She knew he was doing the same, projecting himself and remaining hidden, placing himself strategically near but out of harm’s way - they used to play, like this, projections and illusions and hide-and-seek in the palace... of course she would have known. If it hadn’t been her, perhaps not, but...

If this was still a trap, it was a good one - spectacular in its process and attention to detail - and at the moment Loki was strongly considering allowing himself to risk being snared. If he was right and it was, indeed, the most elaborate trap ever lain, then Loki would be able to see who was behind it, or at least go out knowing that he had seen it. If it was real...

Loki was not entirely sure how to respond. He remained where he was, hidden in a place that was not a place, observing through the eyes of the copy of himself, whose posture was, in keeping with Loki’s own bearing, starting to seem less like he was preparing to attack, and more like he was simply at a loss. He truly was at a loss. He wanted to do as she said - to return his physical form to where the empty shell of him now stood; he found himself hesitating, because no matter how simple the magic involved, it was infinitely more complicated to simply decide to give in.

The moment felt eternal, caught between action and inaction, but it was only a second before he finally let go of the magic holding the illusion in place, appearing a bit nearer to her than his image had stood just a moment ago. His anger was still bleeding away, and in its absence he was left feeling worn thin, pleased to see her but afraid, tired - this meant one more person he had to protect, in a world that was being torn apart by a devil with more power than Loki had been able to pull together thus far. Frigga was far from helpless, of course, skilled in sword and spells alike, but...

But she had died, or she would die...

He would not allow it to happen here.

“What had happened, before you arrived here? What is the last thing you remember?”

He should, perhaps, have been moving in and offering a hug, or at least some greeting that was not skipping directly to questions, but Loki was already spinning ahead with his thoughts, trying to reconcile time-lines, thinking of how he could prevent her from seeing the films if she had not already lived them (even if she had, perhaps), how to convince her not to watch them. Planning the moves in this game that had now changed on him rather unexpectedly - for the better, for once. Loki had never been one to spill into words, anyway; he may have them there, stacking up against his voice, waiting to tumble free - but his control over them was something he had learned early, learned watching Frigga herself, watching his brother’s complete freedom of word and how much trouble it caused him. He could say many things, but until he had weighed the situation, an ill-placed word could make matters more complicated, upset her... He had no desire to do that any more than he was certain he someday inevitably would.