|Loki | MCU (subtletrick) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2014-03-03 00:29:00
|Entry tags:||frigga, loki|
Who: Loki & Frigga
What: DepressedLoki is depressed.
Where: His place!
When: Tomorrow afternoon, for simplicity's sake.
Why: He wanted to write something, then decided to do it all weird, and then it turned into this.
Loki wasn't entirely sure when, exactly, he'd stopped believing he could bring Darcy back to him. It didn't happen all at once - not like the way she had gone, not like the way he had arrived here. It was a gradual thing. First there had been the blind, floundering, manic drive to bring her back to him, frantically searching for anything that could help him. From there, he had mellowed, become frustrated but still determined, and tried to be smarter about it, tried to look at all the angles of each idea before he cast it aside.
He had taken another room in the house, closed and sealed the door to his (theirs) with magic. It would remain untouched, like a memorial, until he chose to open it again. He couldn't sleep in there anymore, not with the scattered touches of her existence lingering there, the human touches that made it seem somehow warmer, the objects that the seal had not reclaimed laying where they'd been left, because he could not bring himself to move them. Not with the memories of her still too painful. The pain had been fuel, before - now, it was simply pain. It made him bitter, and it was exhausting.
There were books and papers on the desk in this new room, everything he had managed to gather from every corner of the earth - and some from beyond - that may have had anything to do with the seal or somehow connected to how he could have reached through it. The only way he had found had been too much of a risk - if it would have worked, and that was barely even theoretically feasible... but if it had, it would have very likely done massive damage to everything here, and then what would have even been the point?
Still, he'd kept combing through, looking for something he might have missed, something that connected the gaps in his knowledge. Even had this particular gap not been one so personal to him, he would have likely been fairly insistent on filling it - he had never liked having to say I don't know about something, even as a child. Thor and his friends, with their swords and blades - there was no doubt, there. There was nothing but confidence and action, and while Loki did find the general warrior mindset frustrating to deal with, he also had thought it must have been easier - easier to act and damn the consequences, rather than plan details and consider alternatives and find solutions...
It was easier, to simply do something than it was to realize there was nothing that could be done.
The books had not been touched in days. Loki had not done much of anything in days, really. He had essentially made appearances, slipping out of his room and obtaining some sort of food, briefly spending time where his mother could see that, yes, he was alive, and no, he did not seem to be going off the deep end (and he understood her concern, he did; he hated that she needed to worry, but he knew there was nothing to be done about that) - and then excused himself, saying that he was still trying to work, had much reading to do, and the like.
He refused to admit that he was giving up - would not admit it even to himself. He still... intended to work. He would cross to the desk, eyes skimming the covers and spread pages of ancient texts... and then he would turn away. He supposed at some point he had been sleeping - he thought perhaps he had been sleeping a great deal. He felt heavy, now, watching the sun's light pass by the window, time passing in a slow slide of light. He did not intend to stay here and watch it pass - he simply could not seem to bring himself to play through the act again just yet. Perhaps in an hour.