[ooc: I hope the skip is okay, I figured it would give them an established friendship to carry on with. If you want me to edit and aren't okay with it, just let me know and I will be happy to change it <3]
Loki's heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest and his eyes seemed locked on the fallen book until it was effectively spirited away by Darcy Lewis. The pages closed to him once more, obscuring the stylised drawing of his brother in shining helm with hammer held high.
He could picture the day so clearly, the exact one where the Midgardians must have seen this image of him to capture so well. They had been so young, Loki young enough not to have even earned his own helm, and Thor had just been gifted Mjolnir to carry by his side. He had been so boisterously excited and determined to find a fight at once, 'worthy' of being killed by his new toy. The more dangerous realms were still closed to them, but Heimdall agreed to let them go to Midgard. They had searched (Thor had searched while Loki demanded they return home) for fierce beasts for a month before Thor had lost his temper at finding none. A roar of frustration, the hammer held to the sky to summon the clouds, and all mortals in the surrounding villages had seen.
Though the book was closed to him now, and such was a relief, Loki half wanted to open it once more and trace the lines with his fingers. To remember a happier time before he knew that he had no right to call Thor brother, before he knew his life had been a lie.
"Ah--" It was a small noise as he was pulled from his reverie to find Darcy already at her computer and babbling about being cut by papers. How was that possible? Was mortal flesh so very fragile that even the soft edge of paper could tear into their skin?
Apparently so. Pathetic.
It was a ready-made explanation for his reaction, however, so he nodded his head at once. He spread his fingers up in her direction, long and elegant, as if to display the non-existent damage done. "There is no need for aid or bandages, the wound has already closed and the pain has passed."
With that, he turned to his personal monitor and began to work. Slowly at first, for the technology was still new to him and he did not know precisely how their primitive science worked, but with increasing speed.
And so it continued for the next five weeks.
Loki settled into his role as Leita and threw himself bodily into the attempt at reparation. For the longer he spent with these mortals, so plucky and determined even in the face of all their failings and weaknesses, the more the guilt for his actions took hold and the madness at learning the truth of his origins faded. To think of Asgard was still to feel pain. Pain of loss, of sorrow, and the tinge of betrayed anger that could not quite disappear.
But that was not his home now, had never really been his home in truth, so he tried to think of it little.
He spent most of his time with Darcy Lewis. Though he passed polite conversation with Jane Foster, for she was indeed brilliant and amenable company, she reminded him too much of Thor. Erik was one he tried to avoid completely, for the tang of his accent was too bittersweet, and he feared being discovered by one who knew the old stories much better than most now living on this realm. And so Miss Lewis became his companion in work and leisure, and she proved surprisingly interesting company.
Through long practise at observing others and finding their weaknesses and vulnerabilities, it was not difficult for Loki to watch the occasional moment where she would look saddened at not understanding, or cover up her inadequacies with jest. He noted all of those moments and filed them. She was an able assistant, and he did make an effort to explain some of his calculations to her in careful language, to test if she would notice they were not science as Midgard knew it.
He remained unfailingly polite to all of them, though he remained evasive and vague on his history. He still did not sleep well. Nor did he eat, for the food tasted of ashes on his tongue and rest was plagued with memories of falling to the Void and all the preceded it. He grew thinner and paler, but his smile remained wide, and his dressed impeccably. He made a show of going out to buy new outfits, but really his closet remained bare and he dressed himself each morning in magic. Tailored suits and smart shirts, clothes that befit the prince he no longer was.
Loki avoided that book of Norse tales since that first morning, right up until this morning near six weeks later. Jane had gone to the lab and Erik was with her, and Darcy had developed a Midgardian infection they rather bizarrely referred to as a 'cold'. Believing that she would remain in her rooms to continue the sneezing and coughing that had come over her, he finally gave in once more to curiosity and dug the book out from where he had hidden it after the first day had been over.
Thus if any mortal should happen to stumble out wrapped in a blanket and in search of comfort food, she would find Loki staring at an open book with rare tears trickling down his face.
no subject
Loki's heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest and his eyes seemed locked on the fallen book until it was effectively spirited away by Darcy Lewis. The pages closed to him once more, obscuring the stylised drawing of his brother in shining helm with hammer held high.
He could picture the day so clearly, the exact one where the Midgardians must have seen this image of him to capture so well. They had been so young, Loki young enough not to have even earned his own helm, and Thor had just been gifted Mjolnir to carry by his side. He had been so boisterously excited and determined to find a fight at once, 'worthy' of being killed by his new toy. The more dangerous realms were still closed to them, but Heimdall agreed to let them go to Midgard. They had searched (Thor had searched while Loki demanded they return home) for fierce beasts for a month before Thor had lost his temper at finding none. A roar of frustration, the hammer held to the sky to summon the clouds, and all mortals in the surrounding villages had seen.
Though the book was closed to him now, and such was a relief, Loki half wanted to open it once more and trace the lines with his fingers. To remember a happier time before he knew that he had no right to call Thor brother, before he knew his life had been a lie.
"Ah--" It was a small noise as he was pulled from his reverie to find Darcy already at her computer and babbling about being cut by papers. How was that possible? Was mortal flesh so very fragile that even the soft edge of paper could tear into their skin?
Apparently so. Pathetic.
It was a ready-made explanation for his reaction, however, so he nodded his head at once. He spread his fingers up in her direction, long and elegant, as if to display the non-existent damage done. "There is no need for aid or bandages, the wound has already closed and the pain has passed."
With that, he turned to his personal monitor and began to work. Slowly at first, for the technology was still new to him and he did not know precisely how their primitive science worked, but with increasing speed.
And so it continued for the next five weeks.
Loki settled into his role as Leita and threw himself bodily into the attempt at reparation. For the longer he spent with these mortals, so plucky and determined even in the face of all their failings and weaknesses, the more the guilt for his actions took hold and the madness at learning the truth of his origins faded. To think of Asgard was still to feel pain. Pain of loss, of sorrow, and the tinge of betrayed anger that could not quite disappear.
But that was not his home now, had never really been his home in truth, so he tried to think of it little.
He spent most of his time with Darcy Lewis. Though he passed polite conversation with Jane Foster, for she was indeed brilliant and amenable company, she reminded him too much of Thor. Erik was one he tried to avoid completely, for the tang of his accent was too bittersweet, and he feared being discovered by one who knew the old stories much better than most now living on this realm. And so Miss Lewis became his companion in work and leisure, and she proved surprisingly interesting company.
Through long practise at observing others and finding their weaknesses and vulnerabilities, it was not difficult for Loki to watch the occasional moment where she would look saddened at not understanding, or cover up her inadequacies with jest. He noted all of those moments and filed them. She was an able assistant, and he did make an effort to explain some of his calculations to her in careful language, to test if she would notice they were not science as Midgard knew it.
He remained unfailingly polite to all of them, though he remained evasive and vague on his history. He still did not sleep well. Nor did he eat, for the food tasted of ashes on his tongue and rest was plagued with memories of falling to the Void and all the preceded it. He grew thinner and paler, but his smile remained wide, and his dressed impeccably. He made a show of going out to buy new outfits, but really his closet remained bare and he dressed himself each morning in magic. Tailored suits and smart shirts, clothes that befit the prince he no longer was.
Loki avoided that book of Norse tales since that first morning, right up until this morning near six weeks later. Jane had gone to the lab and Erik was with her, and Darcy had developed a Midgardian infection they rather bizarrely referred to as a 'cold'. Believing that she would remain in her rooms to continue the sneezing and coughing that had come over her, he finally gave in once more to curiosity and dug the book out from where he had hidden it after the first day had been over.
Thus if any mortal should happen to stumble out wrapped in a blanket and in search of comfort food, she would find Loki staring at an open book with rare tears trickling down his face.