[ She doesn't accept the challenge of argument like Sif readily would -- how Thor used to -- but parries his scorn with a soft serenity that shakes him at his very core. His heart lurches, the approach reminiscent of Frigga's gentle hand -- too gentle, perhaps -- but this haphazard state of emotions allows Wanda the opportunity to close the distance between them.
Uncertainty flickers across his face. Her palm molds to the angle of his cheeks and his next breath is drawn sharply in response to the heat of her skin. Jotun skin melts away into pale pink like the flow of watercolors as Loki parses her words.
Dreaming? Then she--
On the divan, Loki awakens with hitched breath and a stiff jolt. One glance at Wanda in his periphery is all that's necessary to launch himself from the seat and gain some distance -- any sort of distance. He stills just as abruptly, keeping his back to her as he scans over the backs of his hands, teeth clenching as the ridges fade into his skin.
There are too many issues at hand, even for a schemer like himself; he feels a writhing tangle of anger and shame coiling around his throat, threatening to burst from inside of him. Had she just-- truly, in his dream-- in his head--
Meanwhile, the areas where his hands had fallen during his impromptu nap shimmer with the dancing reflection of the brazier's flames against their jagged, icy surface. ]
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Uncertainty flickers across his face. Her palm molds to the angle of his cheeks and his next breath is drawn sharply in response to the heat of her skin. Jotun skin melts away into pale pink like the flow of watercolors as Loki parses her words.
Dreaming? Then she--
On the divan, Loki awakens with hitched breath and a stiff jolt. One glance at Wanda in his periphery is all that's necessary to launch himself from the seat and gain some distance -- any sort of distance. He stills just as abruptly, keeping his back to her as he scans over the backs of his hands, teeth clenching as the ridges fade into his skin.
There are too many issues at hand, even for a schemer like himself; he feels a writhing tangle of anger and shame coiling around his throat, threatening to burst from inside of him. Had she just-- truly, in his dream-- in his head--
Meanwhile, the areas where his hands had fallen during his impromptu nap shimmer with the dancing reflection of the brazier's flames against their jagged, icy surface. ]