sylvie (loveismischief) wrote in winterdale, @ 2021-07-25 21:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | character: sylvie laufeydottir, fandom: marvel |
Who: Sylvie
What: narrative
When: Sylvie arrives
Where: Dunwich & Orrinshire
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Warning: vague spoilers for the Loki series
It all honestly seemed too good to be true. Once Sylvie had determined that Winterdale probably wasn't a trick, and was some odd anomaly in the insane multiverse she'd just caused to go to absolute hell, she was finally able to calm down. A little, at least. She still wasn't certain what all she felt — too much at once, certainly, so by the time she'd been shown to a temporary place to stay she had settled into an odd sort of exhausted acceptance. She's chosen Dunwich as her starting point, as big cities were easier to remain anonymous in, and she had little interest in exploring before she'd at least attempted to get her bearings. Information was easy enough to come by beyond the run down she'd been given when she arrived, and the chatter on the local networks seemed real enough that she was able to relax.
The first thing she did was take a nice, long, hot shower. Wash her clothes, find new ones. Eat. Normal things that felt a little surreal, but kept her thoughts from drifting too far to everything that had happened in the past few days. Weeks? Months? She wasn't too certain on the timing of it all, with being outside of time for some of it. It had felt like mere days, a mad jumble between the moment she'd met Loki and the moment she'd killed He Who Remains, and —
She just hoped Loki was safe. That he'd found Mobius, because Mobius, at least, didn't seem like the sort to betray him. They'd manage the TVA, and the universe was most likely much better off without her there to interfere further, anyway. They could undo what she'd done and she could just… exist here, she supposed, and try to move on. He'd forget her, and maybe that was better. Overdramatic, but then they all kind of were, overdramatic and messy and prone to fucking things up. There was a small measure of comfort in knowing that her variant — the variant she'd known — had been able to start moving past all that.
It made her a little hopeful that she might figure herself out, too.
Still, living her very, very long life on the run hadn't made her good at staying still. By the time night had settled in her thoughts were circling again, the guilt and panic and a deep sense of loss and sorrow making it impossible to sleep. When Sylvie had woken up for the third time in as many hours she gave up on it, though it was difficult to shake the memory of the split-second of realization of what she was doing after she kissed him out of her mind. It was — a lot. Too much lingering anger, too much regret, too much not regretting it at all. A sense of emptiness that hadn't been filled by finally seeing her plan through. She had always known it was dangerously stupid to care about people, and she had cared, cared too much, even if Loki had been right. She couldn't trust, not even him. She had wanted to, but when it had really counted she hadn't been able.
And the idiot had trusted her anyway, though she knew idiot was hardly fair. Nor was being annoyed about it, because being annoyed at Loki for being reasonable and calm when all she'd been able to think about was her revenge being so damn close was stupid, as much as it was easier. Easier to blame everyone but herself, when this time she had been the only person responsible for her actions. She'd have to take a long, hard look at herself eventually, but as she watched the sun rise, fingers curled around a too-hot mug of coffee that she wasn't really interested in, she couldn't. It was too painful.
What she could do was reconnoissance. The city was a typical city, but one of the other areas, Orrinshire, had been touted as where a majority of the magic users stayed. Suddenly her initial desire to stay far away from anyone who could detect her was the opposite of what she wanted. The trip over on the trains was surprisingly quick, and while the town held some interest, it was as quaint and peaceful as the pictures had looked, and she wanted something else. Restless, she thought about returning to the city, when she felt a faint spark of something, a familiar tug of magic, and her heart almost leapt into her throat.
No one noticed as she wandered through the town, away from the all the people and buildings and towards the woods, curious and hopeful and scared all at once.