[ Playing handmaiden to the heat-stricken witch had demanded that Loki drop a certain amount of his defenses, but to contribute their current state of comfort wholly to the facade of caretaker would be a blatant lie. Unconsciously or not, with acknowledgement or denial, he allowed Wanda to chip away at his walls. There was a faint ache associated with the distant familiarity of being in a position of trust with someone in whom he held a certain degree of fondness -- but the balancing act of "Odin" versus "Lady Maximoff's handmaiden" takes its toll on him.
Asgardians and Jotuns alike resist fatigue far better than Midgardians, but even they have their limits. By the time Wanda has recovered enough to resume her studies, Loki is operating on fumes. Though adept at hiding it, he's grateful that Wanda hasn't been sharp enough to notice anything -- he assumes, anyway, otherwise she'd have said something, right? So when he feels the soft pressure of her head fall against his arm and turns his head to see her eyes closed and her breaths slower, he thinks, Just for a bit.
He'll take the opportunity to close his eyes just for a bit.
-
He is sitting on the throne of Asgard.
The throne room is bathed in the golden hue of the setting sun casting long shadows past its inhabitants. Gungnir rests comfortably in his slim hands, his hands. Familiar faces make up his audience of several, but it is Frigga's that clutches his heart with guilt. He leans forward to rise, but she and everyone else -- Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three, equally part to reveal Odin -- Odin in his full-armored majesty, with Gungnir in his weathered hands.
Loki bites back a hiss, but the king needn't verbalize his disappointment. Odin ascends the steps to the throne, each footfall eerily silent, and Loki sits there like a little boy again, immobilized by the All-Father's sheer presence. As Odin lifts the spear, Loki cringes and furtively glances at the one in his own palm only to find that it is no longer Gungnir, but the scepter given to him by Thanos. Panic erupts in his throat. Why now? Where is he?
Gungnir slams down toward the golden steps as Loki looks wildly around the room. His eyes lock with those of a girl who surrounds herself in scarlet.
Oh no. No.
He knows where this is going.
Cracks erupt over Loki's armor as Gungnir hits the floor, its reverberations along the palace walls bone-shuddering. An ever increasingly large figure slowly makes its way toward the throne from the shadows, but Loki cannot tear his eyes from the growing disgust in Wanda's as each splintered piece of his armor caves into the damning blue of a Frost Giant. ]
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Asgardians and Jotuns alike resist fatigue far better than Midgardians, but even they have their limits. By the time Wanda has recovered enough to resume her studies, Loki is operating on fumes. Though adept at hiding it, he's grateful that Wanda hasn't been sharp enough to notice anything -- he assumes, anyway, otherwise she'd have said something, right? So when he feels the soft pressure of her head fall against his arm and turns his head to see her eyes closed and her breaths slower, he thinks, Just for a bit.
He'll take the opportunity to close his eyes just for a bit.
-
He is sitting on the throne of Asgard.
The throne room is bathed in the golden hue of the setting sun casting long shadows past its inhabitants. Gungnir rests comfortably in his slim hands, his hands. Familiar faces make up his audience of several, but it is Frigga's that clutches his heart with guilt. He leans forward to rise, but she and everyone else -- Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three, equally part to reveal Odin -- Odin in his full-armored majesty, with Gungnir in his weathered hands.
Loki bites back a hiss, but the king needn't verbalize his disappointment. Odin ascends the steps to the throne, each footfall eerily silent, and Loki sits there like a little boy again, immobilized by the All-Father's sheer presence. As Odin lifts the spear, Loki cringes and furtively glances at the one in his own palm only to find that it is no longer Gungnir, but the scepter given to him by Thanos. Panic erupts in his throat. Why now? Where is he?
Gungnir slams down toward the golden steps as Loki looks wildly around the room. His eyes lock with those of a girl who surrounds herself in scarlet.
Oh no. No.
He knows where this is going.
Cracks erupt over Loki's armor as Gungnir hits the floor, its reverberations along the palace walls bone-shuddering. An ever increasingly large figure slowly makes its way toward the throne from the shadows, but Loki cannot tear his eyes from the growing disgust in Wanda's as each splintered piece of his armor caves into the damning blue of a Frost Giant. ]