The thought of a bed is quite honestly the most appealing thing that Loki has encountered in days.
He once fought beside Thor for a solid week with no sleep and little time to eat or even catch his breath, he expended all his magic and danced with the enemy until his legs near collapsed from underneath him, but he had never felt exhaustion such as he does now. This goes beyond his body, far deeper. It is in his bones, in his very soul. He has not slept now since before he sent the Destroyer to Midgard, to this little town, and the toll is great.
Loki is barely aware of Jane Foster as she follows him up the stairs and then bids him a good night outside the airy chambers they have set aside for him. She tells him not to allow Darcy to talk his ear off, she looks at him with sympathetic eyes, and she retreats to the main living space. He had not known what to expect of these two mortal women, though it had been little for humans were petty creatures beneath his notice, but it had not been kindness. They have taken him to their home, they have prepared these chambers with fresh sheets and soft pillows, and they have offered him their hospitality.
He does not recall the murmured thanks that leave his lips for the efforts of Darcy Lewis in her preparations for his comfort, and he does not remember crossing the room when the door closed to leave him in solitude. All he recalls is the sight out of the window. Broken vehicles and rubble, blocked from being accessed by bright yellow strips that stretch between buildings. The evidence of the Destroyer writ plain in front of him.
What he truly does not expect is the sudden wave of guilt.
Despite the exhaustion, he does not find it within himself to tear his eyes from the visible scarring his actions have left on this town. And he does not sleep. Not that evening when he hears the door open and close and the low murmur of conversation, of the two women and an additional male voice. Not when the arguing finally ceases and all goes quiet. Not when the sky turns from velvet blue into the brilliant reds and golds of dawn.
Loki still cannot sort his feelings for his family in his mind. Even just touching on the tangle of his true heritage, all that had happened, and the lies that had been told to him for his whole life make him recoil at once. He hears the echo of Odin's voice in his mind and hears the roar of the void, and he does not know whether he still feels a desperate need to be accepted, to prove himself an Odinson, or whether he feels a bitter anger that will need release lest it eat him from within like the blackest of poisons.
The only decision he has made when daylight finally breaks over his little room is that he wishes to make reparation to the mortals. They have shown him kindness when his heart was sorely in need of it, and all he has gifted them in return is destruction. It may be a small thing, but he will assist in the construction of a new Bifrost from this end to wipe out that debt. That requires his disguise to be more than a whim and one of his more poorly constructed lies, it requires him to be perfect and to know more of Midgard than he currently does.
That is what brings him out of his chambers in the early morning and into the communal living space. There is a rectangular device on the seat with which he begins his exploration. It has 'Property of Darcy Lewis. Hands off. Mine." written on the top in little strips of white tape, but he paid that no heed for he did not intend to do it any damage. Brief investigation showed him that it opened like a book, and one half held keys that corresponded to their alphabet.
A few buttons pressed later, and Loki had managed to turn the laptop on. Fifteen minutes later and he had figured out how to work the most basic of functions. Two hours later and he was engrossed in an internet article regarding application of science in modern astrophysics. So engrossed that he would not notice the owner of said laptop if she happened to come upon him.
well this got long whoops
He once fought beside Thor for a solid week with no sleep and little time to eat or even catch his breath, he expended all his magic and danced with the enemy until his legs near collapsed from underneath him, but he had never felt exhaustion such as he does now. This goes beyond his body, far deeper. It is in his bones, in his very soul. He has not slept now since before he sent the Destroyer to Midgard, to this little town, and the toll is great.
Loki is barely aware of Jane Foster as she follows him up the stairs and then bids him a good night outside the airy chambers they have set aside for him. She tells him not to allow Darcy to talk his ear off, she looks at him with sympathetic eyes, and she retreats to the main living space. He had not known what to expect of these two mortal women, though it had been little for humans were petty creatures beneath his notice, but it had not been kindness. They have taken him to their home, they have prepared these chambers with fresh sheets and soft pillows, and they have offered him their hospitality.
He does not recall the murmured thanks that leave his lips for the efforts of Darcy Lewis in her preparations for his comfort, and he does not remember crossing the room when the door closed to leave him in solitude. All he recalls is the sight out of the window. Broken vehicles and rubble, blocked from being accessed by bright yellow strips that stretch between buildings. The evidence of the Destroyer writ plain in front of him.
What he truly does not expect is the sudden wave of guilt.
Despite the exhaustion, he does not find it within himself to tear his eyes from the visible scarring his actions have left on this town. And he does not sleep. Not that evening when he hears the door open and close and the low murmur of conversation, of the two women and an additional male voice. Not when the arguing finally ceases and all goes quiet. Not when the sky turns from velvet blue into the brilliant reds and golds of dawn.
Loki still cannot sort his feelings for his family in his mind. Even just touching on the tangle of his true heritage, all that had happened, and the lies that had been told to him for his whole life make him recoil at once. He hears the echo of Odin's voice in his mind and hears the roar of the void, and he does not know whether he still feels a desperate need to be accepted, to prove himself an Odinson, or whether he feels a bitter anger that will need release lest it eat him from within like the blackest of poisons.
The only decision he has made when daylight finally breaks over his little room is that he wishes to make reparation to the mortals. They have shown him kindness when his heart was sorely in need of it, and all he has gifted them in return is destruction. It may be a small thing, but he will assist in the construction of a new Bifrost from this end to wipe out that debt. That requires his disguise to be more than a whim and one of his more poorly constructed lies, it requires him to be perfect and to know more of Midgard than he currently does.
That is what brings him out of his chambers in the early morning and into the communal living space. There is a rectangular device on the seat with which he begins his exploration. It has 'Property of Darcy Lewis. Hands off. Mine." written on the top in little strips of white tape, but he paid that no heed for he did not intend to do it any damage. Brief investigation showed him that it opened like a book, and one half held keys that corresponded to their alphabet.
A few buttons pressed later, and Loki had managed to turn the laptop on. Fifteen minutes later and he had figured out how to work the most basic of functions. Two hours later and he was engrossed in an internet article regarding application of science in modern astrophysics. So engrossed that he would not notice the owner of said laptop if she happened to come upon him.