[The voice is unfamiliar but the presence isn't. Loki. She's not even going to pretend she doesn't feel a rush of relief much less attempt to keep it out of her voice, weak as it is.]
...you're here.
[Slowly, painfully, Wanda turns her head. She still feels terribly overheated and even the cloth on her forehead brings scant relief.]
Well, you survived the flames of Muspelheim. [ His head cants, brow arched and lips pressed in an expression that can only be described as blithely impressed. ] And Thor.
[ He retracts his hand, folding it in his lap. He is seated beside her bed facing the headboard, his smaller proportions not quite as towering a presence as his norm. ]
[ Loki will be particularly irate if this is to become her death bed, but he doubts it. Their healers are extraordinarily adept at keeping them alive if Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three are anything to go by.
The smile he flashes her is small and humorless. ]
That may depend. What are your personal thoughts on strict bed-rest for an extended period of time?
[ No, they don't. Loki is no exception, though his flavor of retaliation tends to be less... clamorous. ]
I shall hope that you will. The people say you're full of surprises.
[ In his lap, his index finger slowly taps the back of his other palm. He would offer her drink, but even that might prove too strenuous at the moment. Instead, he says softly, but firmly, ] Tell me what you remember.
Not very much after the fighting started. I don't remember collapsing.
[Thor had promised they wouldn't be there long enough for it to do her any harm. She's not sure if he vastly underestimated how much time it would take or forgot that physically she is no different from any other Midgardian or both.]
Thor was shouting...something. I don't know what. I think I may have woken up a little already but I was too tired to move.
[Translation: she has no memory of Thor dunking her in the nearest fountain and making a complete spectacle out of both of them while he shouted for the healers. Or of obliterating a fire demon squad.]
[ Something like a sigh passes through his teeth as he glances elsewhere. ]
Leave it to Thor to overestimate your capabilities. [ There's a tinge of exasperation in his voice, but no spite. Loki knows that this was an innocent mistake on Thor's part, but he can't help but wonder why he abruptly decided to bring Wanda along. It seems almost too foolish for him.
[She's trying to lighten the mood a little, but whether Loki intended it or not, guilt is eating at her. Had he been forced to deal with some kind of psychic backlash as a result of their actions? Had she reached out for him in her sleep? Surely he wouldn't be here unless there had been a real concern that she wouldn't survive her ordeal.
Slowly she reaches for Loki's hand.]
I'm sorry. [Said with the solemnity of someone who knows very intimately what she almost put him through. And that's enough to be sure that she'll follow all of his and the healer's directions to the letter.]
[ He is trying to lighten the mood, clearly to no avail. The weight of her apology unnerves him. Does she know?
The pain she used to focus -- the unfathomable heat threatening to smother her out of existence -- the desperation and raw power unleashed because of it -- he felt it.
For a brief, abrupt moment, he had felt all of it.
It was terrifying. It is still terrifying. That sort of mental intimacy has he shared with absolutely no one. How could he? He is a creature of deception. He was raised in lies. To be rudely reminded that Wanda could and did reach into his mind is reason enough to abort mission, but he knows, with a visceral certainty, that the connection had been one-way. It hadn't been intentional, either; it isn't her style to broadcast honest fear and raw survival instinct.
Morbid curiosity gives him the resolve to press on. He needs to keep an eye on her -- for his own sake. There had been concern -- deep, abrupt, the lurch of his stomach threatening sickness -- but it's easier to believe that he is here for himself.
It's expected. ]
Apology duly noted, [ he says dryly, all of the turmoil rolling in his stomach conveniently hidden behind an arched brow. He tries to ignore the heat of her hand on his, the weight that he hopes is imaginary. ]
I hope you're ready for a more dramatic one. When Thor hears that you've awoke...
Oh no. He has to promise to whisper or I might faint again.
[It's almost comical how her expression shifts dramatically as she can only imagine - and the imagining makes her head hurt. She's already wincing. Bulls in china shops must have nothing on Thors in sickrooms.
There's also the not-so-small matter or her decided lack of actual clothing.]
He is... [No, 'all right' is the wrong term.] ...not hurt?
[ To be fair, neither Loki nor Thor would dwell on her minimalist change of wardrobe. It is simply a necessity and Thor, whose careless actions had called for it, would be too preoccupied by guilt and relief to spare a thought to lewdness.
Perhaps the full implication of Loki being her lady-in-waiting has yet to dawn on her. ]
Not enough to grace him with your worry. [ They have been on Earth-saving adventures together, yes? Still, perhaps it would ease her mind to give a straight-forward answer. ]
Minor burns, cuts, the usual. [ A dismissive wave of his hand. ] Your scarlet may have clipped him in a few places, but he has endured worse.
[ He makes a show of sighing, slender shoulders rolling with the motion. ]
I suppose.
[ Withdrawing his hand, he partially stands and reaches behind Wanda to prop her head up with another pillow (down, of course). He handles her the same as he would an ancient relic of knowledge: with surprisingly gentle care.
The bedside stand has everything he needs to tend to her, including a pitcher of water. He pours her a cup and lifts its edge to her lips, unconsciously mimicking Frigga when she was the one to tend to a sick Loki or Thor in their youth. ]
[It hurts to move her head, but Loki is surprisingly careful not to cause her any more pain. It would be easy, so easy, to drain the entire cup in one go, but Wanda is true to her word. One sip (slowly!), a moment to breathe, then another.
She and Pietro learned the hard way a long time ago how important it is to go slowly after a period of deprivation. Wanda sits back after she's managed almost half the cup and smiles at Loki. It's a small improvement, but at least her throat no longer feels like sandpaper and talking doesn't hurt.]
Thank you. I think I should wait before I have more?
[She's not actually blushing, but she's so flushed from the heat it's impossible to tell any difference right now.]
[ Perhaps it is the combination of their current circumstances and the fact that she is the only person to offer him smiles that are neither forced nor malicious that causes something within him to stir. His eyes fall to the cup, then follow its path as he sets it down on his palm in his lap. ]
If you can bare a few minutes.
[ And if she doesn't reply, then he will lapse into a temporary silence, taking on a distant shade as he considers and ultimately decides to label that "something" as inconvenient and brush it aside for later (or possibly never). His index finger rubs against the porcelain all the while, betraying his unease. ]
You know, I've had worse than this. And I promised that I would be good.
[The sad thing is that she really could make a list. Yes, she almost died, but this is hardly the first time and not even the most painful. The unnatural scarring on her right palm will attest to that.
Has Loki felt any of the other times? Even wearing an unfamiliar face, he seems so clearly unsettled (for him) that Wanda is almost certain there was some kind of backlash. But she knows him well enough to know that voicing her suspicions would be a mistake.
So instead she reaches out and tentatively lays her hand on his currently too-dainty wrist. It isn't pity - this is offering some form of comfort while she seeks the same from him.]
[ Suddenly, he feels betrayed. Not by Wanda, but himself -- to feel anything but vexation at the ordeal, and for it to be apparent enough that she reacts to it. He considers his response for all of a second before his wrist twists beneath her hand, fingers curling loosely around her own wrist.
How easy it is to do. Should he add disappointment to the list? No. No, he is merely playing the game. ]
See to it that you do. My concern does not come lightly.
[ He speaks with the haughtiness expected from him, yet weighed down by something more. Deceit spills far more easily than honesty, but there is nothing but truth in his statement. ]
He glances away, a look of carelessness crossing his features. Metaphorically brushing off the heaviness. ]
Nothing that I'm incapable of handling. Here. [ He's withdrawing his hand to offer her the cup of water again. Game or not (and he insists that this is only a game, a gamble), this... exchange is getting too close for comfort. ]
[Water is an excellent distraction and whatever moment they were having passes as quickly as it came. This time it's easier to fight the urge to chug the rest of the cup, even though she's still terribly thirsty. Wanda's much more patient than most Asgardians in her situation would be - part knowing better and part guilt.
Finally she sits back, but when Wanda turns to Loki that odd warmth from a few minutes ago is subdued. She's not looking at him any differently than normal.]
[ The question acts as the final thing necessary to break his discomfort.
Loki releases a breathy laugh and places the cup down. ]
Would you like it with or without jam? We have... ah, the ever reliable apple.
[ Spiced apple, to be exact. No bruschetta -- a conscious decision on his part, not knowing when she would wake and having no plausible reason why a servant who has never tended to her would specifically bring it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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...you're here.
[Slowly, painfully, Wanda turns her head. She still feels terribly overheated and even the cloth on her forehead brings scant relief.]
What happened?
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Well, you survived the flames of Muspelheim. [ His head cants, brow arched and lips pressed in an expression that can only be described as blithely impressed. ] And Thor.
[ He retracts his hand, folding it in his lap. He is seated beside her bed facing the headboard, his smaller proportions not quite as towering a presence as his norm. ]
You've got a bit of heat exhaustion, I'm afraid.
[ Juuuust a bit. ]
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[Maximoffs. They can literally be on their deathbed and still sass you, although Wanda sobers quickly. Did she come as close to dying as she feels?]
It is...bad, isn't it?
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The smile he flashes her is small and humorless. ]
That may depend. What are your personal thoughts on strict bed-rest for an extended period of time?
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You say that like I could get up even if I wanted to. [A beat. Asgardians probably don't make the best patients.] I'll be good.
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I shall hope that you will. The people say you're full of surprises.
[ In his lap, his index finger slowly taps the back of his other palm. He would offer her drink, but even that might prove too strenuous at the moment. Instead, he says softly, but firmly, ] Tell me what you remember.
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[Thor had promised they wouldn't be there long enough for it to do her any harm. She's not sure if he vastly underestimated how much time it would take or forgot that physically she is no different from any other Midgardian or both.]
Thor was shouting...something. I don't know what. I think I may have woken up a little already but I was too tired to move.
[Translation: she has no memory of Thor dunking her in the nearest fountain and making a complete spectacle out of both of them while he shouted for the healers. Or of obliterating a fire demon squad.]
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Leave it to Thor to overestimate your capabilities. [ There's a tinge of exasperation in his voice, but no spite. Loki knows that this was an innocent mistake on Thor's part, but he can't help but wonder why he abruptly decided to bring Wanda along. It seems almost too foolish for him.
His index finger now rubs against his thumb. ]
What were you using to ground yourself?
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Pain. And then nothing. I was so dizzy I am surprised I could hit anything.
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Apparently you hit several things. Thor is lucky he wasn't one of them.
[ Leisurely, his gaze returns to Wanda. His fingers have stilled. ]
You quite nearly died. The healers coaxed you away from that particular door, but it will take some time for you to fully recover.
[ He takes in a breath and with it, an air of formality and... amusement? ]
As such, you've been assigned a lady-in-waiting. Me.
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[She's trying to lighten the mood a little, but whether Loki intended it or not, guilt is eating at her. Had he been forced to deal with some kind of psychic backlash as a result of their actions? Had she reached out for him in her sleep? Surely he wouldn't be here unless there had been a real concern that she wouldn't survive her ordeal.
Slowly she reaches for Loki's hand.]
I'm sorry. [Said with the solemnity of someone who knows very intimately what she almost put him through. And that's enough to be sure that she'll follow all of his and the healer's directions to the letter.]
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The pain she used to focus -- the unfathomable heat threatening to smother her out of existence -- the desperation and raw power unleashed because of it -- he felt it.
For a brief, abrupt moment, he had felt all of it.
It was terrifying. It is still terrifying. That sort of mental intimacy has he shared with absolutely no one. How could he? He is a creature of deception. He was raised in lies. To be rudely reminded that Wanda could and did reach into his mind is reason enough to abort mission, but he knows, with a visceral certainty, that the connection had been one-way. It hadn't been intentional, either; it isn't her style to broadcast honest fear and raw survival instinct.
Morbid curiosity gives him the resolve to press on. He needs to keep an eye on her -- for his own sake. There had been concern -- deep, abrupt, the lurch of his stomach threatening sickness -- but it's easier to believe that he is here for himself.
It's expected. ]
Apology duly noted, [ he says dryly, all of the turmoil rolling in his stomach conveniently hidden behind an arched brow. He tries to ignore the heat of her hand on his, the weight that he hopes is imaginary. ]
I hope you're ready for a more dramatic one. When Thor hears that you've awoke...
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[It's almost comical how her expression shifts dramatically as she can only imagine - and the imagining makes her head hurt. She's already wincing. Bulls in china shops must have nothing on Thors in sickrooms.
There's also the not-so-small matter or her decided lack of actual clothing.]
He is... [No, 'all right' is the wrong term.] ...not hurt?
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Perhaps the full implication of Loki being her lady-in-waiting has yet to dawn on her. ]
Not enough to grace him with your worry. [ They have been on Earth-saving adventures together, yes? Still, perhaps it would ease her mind to give a straight-forward answer. ]
Minor burns, cuts, the usual. [ A dismissive wave of his hand. ] Your scarlet may have clipped him in a few places, but he has endured worse.
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Besides, Loki's hand feels oddly right under hers. She doesn't move it, and not only because her energy reserves are critically low.]
It could have been worse.
[Her voice has started to become gradually raspier - she's still terribly dehydrated even after the treatments she's had already.]
Is there water? [Wrong question, Wanda.] Am I allowed to have some?
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I suppose.
[ Withdrawing his hand, he partially stands and reaches behind Wanda to prop her head up with another pillow (down, of course). He handles her the same as he would an ancient relic of knowledge: with surprisingly gentle care.
The bedside stand has everything he needs to tend to her, including a pitcher of water. He pours her a cup and lifts its edge to her lips, unconsciously mimicking Frigga when she was the one to tend to a sick Loki or Thor in their youth. ]
Slowly.
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She and Pietro learned the hard way a long time ago how important it is to go slowly after a period of deprivation. Wanda sits back after she's managed almost half the cup and smiles at Loki. It's a small improvement, but at least her throat no longer feels like sandpaper and talking doesn't hurt.]
Thank you. I think I should wait before I have more?
[She's not actually blushing, but she's so flushed from the heat it's impossible to tell any difference right now.]
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If you can bare a few minutes.
[ And if she doesn't reply, then he will lapse into a temporary silence, taking on a distant shade as he considers and ultimately decides to label that "something" as inconvenient and brush it aside for later (or possibly never). His index finger rubs against the porcelain all the while, betraying his unease. ]
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[The sad thing is that she really could make a list. Yes, she almost died, but this is hardly the first time and not even the most painful. The unnatural scarring on her right palm will attest to that.
Has Loki felt any of the other times? Even wearing an unfamiliar face, he seems so clearly unsettled (for him) that Wanda is almost certain there was some kind of backlash. But she knows him well enough to know that voicing her suspicions would be a mistake.
So instead she reaches out and tentatively lays her hand on his currently too-dainty wrist. It isn't pity - this is offering some form of comfort while she seeks the same from him.]
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How easy it is to do. Should he add disappointment to the list? No. No, he is merely playing the game. ]
See to it that you do. My concern does not come lightly.
[ He speaks with the haughtiness expected from him, yet weighed down by something more. Deceit spills far more easily than honesty, but there is nothing but truth in his statement. ]
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The bait is taken. Maybe in her weakened state, Wanda is simply more susceptible...or maybe something really is as different as it feels to her.]
I know. You have risked a lot to come here.
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He glances away, a look of carelessness crossing his features. Metaphorically brushing off the heaviness. ]
Nothing that I'm incapable of handling. Here. [ He's withdrawing his hand to offer her the cup of water again. Game or not (and he insists that this is only a game, a gamble), this... exchange is getting too close for comfort. ]
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[Water is an excellent distraction and whatever moment they were having passes as quickly as it came. This time it's easier to fight the urge to chug the rest of the cup, even though she's still terribly thirsty. Wanda's much more patient than most Asgardians in her situation would be - part knowing better and part guilt.
Finally she sits back, but when Wanda turns to Loki that odd warmth from a few minutes ago is subdued. She's not looking at him any differently than normal.]
And now? Do I get to have some of that bread?
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Loki releases a breathy laugh and places the cup down. ]
Would you like it with or without jam? We have... ah, the ever reliable apple.
[ Spiced apple, to be exact. No bruschetta -- a conscious decision on his part, not knowing when she would wake and having no plausible reason why a servant who has never tended to her would specifically bring it. ]
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If I ever say no to sweet things, something is very wrong.
[She doesn't have the same drive to seek them out as Pietro did, but if it's being offered at a mealtime, especially after such a harrowing ordeal...]
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keywords super relevant
♥
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pity for anyone but himself? inconceivable
let her have her dreams
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I'm so sorry, I've either had migraine brain or soup for brains
no worries
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omg sorry!!!
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