[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. ]
[ Following the established pattern of feeding her, Loki holds the bread to her mouth, positioning his other palm to catch the crumbs -- nearly a mirror image of the night she had fed him the bruschetta... were it not for his form being that of a woman in white robes and golden hair tied back with ribbon. ]
You'd enjoy koldskål, then -- cold soup of buttermilk, yogurt, and vanilla. Easily flavored. `Tis the wrong season, but your condition merits it.
[Physical closeness is expected given Wanda's condition and Loki's role as her attendant, and she only glances up at him briefly before taking a small bite. In this context (and only as long as it stays in this context), it's nothing special.
But Wanda's eyes light up when she tastes the jam. Loki must have been paying attention to her favorite flavors, even if he couldn't bring her anything she's taught him without arousing suspicion.]
It's good. [Smile! She pauses, waiting to see how the first bit of food settles in her stomach.] I have not heard of koldskål yet, but that sounds wonderful. [Like the kind of thing that would bring unspeakable relief to her poor throat.] It is a summer dish?
[ He flicks a glance just as she takes her bite. The corners of his mouth curve in the tiniest of unbidden smiles as he catches the light in her eyes before she says anything. ]
It is, and a necessity during those dreadfully torrid months. [ So he would argue, anyway. ]
I don't even want to think about summer right now. I have had enough heat to last the rest of my life, I think.
[She hopes he's exaggerating, if she's even still here come summer. So far Asgard's been more temperate than what she's used to. It's not the only reason she's become ambivalent about returning home...but it certainly doesn't hurt.
Thankfully, after a minute of rest her stomach still isn't protesting. Wanda chances another small bite.]
[ To most Asgardians, yes, he is exaggerating. Most of them weren't actually jötunn. ]
I've never been fond of the heat, [ is what he says, carrying none of the weight of his ancestry in the response. ] Sweat and grime -- more my brother's style.
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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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[ A conversational question meant to invite expansion on the matter (if she chooses to share it) as he prepares her little meal. ]
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[A beat.]
Especially desserts with cinnamon or chocolate. [And she'll be delighted when she finds out it's spiced apple.]
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You'd enjoy koldskål, then -- cold soup of buttermilk, yogurt, and vanilla. Easily flavored. `Tis the wrong season, but your condition merits it.
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But Wanda's eyes light up when she tastes the jam. Loki must have been paying attention to her favorite flavors, even if he couldn't bring her anything she's taught him without arousing suspicion.]
It's good. [Smile! She pauses, waiting to see how the first bit of food settles in her stomach.] I have not heard of koldskål yet, but that sounds wonderful. [Like the kind of thing that would bring unspeakable relief to her poor throat.] It is a summer dish?
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It is, and a necessity during those dreadfully torrid months. [ So he would argue, anyway. ]
I'll bring you a bowl the next time you wake.
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I don't even want to think about summer right now. I have had enough heat to last the rest of my life, I think.
[She hopes he's exaggerating, if she's even still here come summer. So far Asgard's been more temperate than what she's used to. It's not the only reason she's become ambivalent about returning home...but it certainly doesn't hurt.
Thankfully, after a minute of rest her stomach still isn't protesting. Wanda chances another small bite.]
Is it really so bad?
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I've never been fond of the heat, [ is what he says, carrying none of the weight of his ancestry in the response. ] Sweat and grime -- more my brother's style.
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[Surely they have something like a pool, at least? They must.]
I wish I could bring you some.
[Another bite, and very soon Loki is going to have to decide whether to directly feed her the last piece or hand it to her.]
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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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