[She knows, vaguely, but there are so many more important things Loki is to her than jötunn, than the fallen prince: teacher, friend, unlikely confidant, supposed soulmate, and now caretaker. Even wearing an unfamiliar face Wanda can tell there's something wrong with his smile, enough that she squeezes his hand again. Did she say something wrong? She really is grateful.]
Now you're spoiling me.
[So unfortunate that sitting up requires her to let go of his hand to keep the cloth from falling. Her head still protests the movement, though thanks to the cloth and earlier attempts at rehydrating her, it's much more bearable this time. She rests a moment until the pain passes, eyes closed to savor the cold.
Finally she gives him a tiny smile.]
Is it regular koldskål or did you put something else in it?
[ The reassuring squeeze brings him conflict: troubled that he fails to conceal these deeper emotions, but hesitantly hopeful -- and he daren't even acknowledge it as anything but a knot in his chest -- that she seems to care enough to offer him comfort.
He merely shrugs his too delicate shoulders in response to the spoiling comment and gathers the small tray holding the soup, spoon and napkin as she steadies herself. ]
Alas, no cure-all, but a pinch of cinnamon. [ He sets the tray upon her lap and retakes his seat beside the bed, flattening his skirts beneath him like a natural. ] If you think yourself able to tolerate something more substantial, the bread and jam should compliment it nicely.
[If anyone were to have witnessed these little exchanges, they'd probably assume that Wanda's starting to fall for her pretty new handmaiden. Wanda herself probably wouldn't go that far just yet...but she has to admit that she does want to keep Loki close and those not-quite-smiles make something inside her twist painfully.]
No, that's perfect. I love cinnamon.
[Wanda had still been picturing something thicker, like a runny milkshake, but it turns out Loki was right. This is exactly what she needed. It's cooler than the water, soothes her throat, and is absolutely delicious.]
It's good. [Another warm smile, and soon Wanda's fed, refreshed, and resting.
It's a week before she regains enough strength to get out of bed and several more weeks before she can even make it to the library. While her health is no longer at risk, she is still easily tired and leaving the palace isn't an option.
She'd probably have gone out of her mind with boredom if not for Loki. Wanda's tried to shift her nap schedule so that she's not exhausted for their usual meetings, but sometimes it's still hard. The brazier keeps her room pleasantly warm, the divan is piled with soft pillows, and Loki's presence has come to be a source of great comfort.
She might have leaned too closely into his shoulder and drifted off while he was trying to explain the finer points of a particular spell to her. Try as she might, Wanda just couldn't keep her eyes open, and Loki's voice had been too soothing for her to 'just rest them.'
How long was she drifting? It couldn't have been more than an hour before a jolt of panic rouses her. She blinks, disoriented for a moment, but these fearful emotions aren't hers. So--
Loki.
He must have fallen asleep too, but he's clearly not at peace. Wanda reaches out and pauses, frowning. She could fix it with a wave of her hand, but reaching into his thoughts feels like crossing some sort of line that he might not forgive. Even for his soulmate. She definitely can't interfere without his knowledge...but she can't leave him to suffer.
So Wanda takes a deep breath, places a hand on his, and lets the scarlet twine around them as she steps into his dream.]
[ 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. ]
[It's been months since Wanda's done this and she's only ever tried with Pietro. For the Avengers, it usually only takes a small psychic push for their nightmares to reshape into something better. If they've ever suspected her meddling, they've never said anything. Nudging is easy enough to ignore.
It will be harder to ignore the second Wanda who fades into existence behind him. She's in her Scarlet Witch attire (summoned, no doubt, from her protective intentions), in contrast to her double's elegant dress.]
Loki!
[In the dream, Wanda hurries forward. In the real world, her fingers twitch and the other figures in the throne room vanish like smoke. No more Odin. No more Thor. No more false Wanda, but not before her double's expression resolves into all of the hate and disgust she's ever expressed when talking about Ultron or Strucker.
Her power doesn't touch Loki. She's too afraid of hurting him when she's not even sure what's happened.]
It's all right. It's not real.
[There's only true concern in Wanda's expression as she slowly reaches out for him. She's heard rumors of his true heritage, but with no frame of reference for what a frost giant is or should look like, it's not quite coming together. It just looks like Gungnir did something to him and now he's hurt.]
[ If his adrenaline weren't running the show, he might have noticed the budding warmth in his chest responding to Wanda's efforts -- but when he sees how awfully her double's expression twists, his insides twist with it.
Like an imaginary line, the surroundings behind Wanda remain gold and splendid -- and beyond her further, shadowed -- but the walls crack and splinter into the harsh, frigid terrain of Jotunheim in front of her. Loki stares at her with bewildered red eyes, the lines on his face more than worry, but actual ridges traveling down his neck and torso. His helmet is the last to chip away, its golden flecks vanishing in the snow at his bare feet, leaving a stockier set of horns in its place.
When Wanda steps forward, his grip around the scepter tightens. Every muscle fiber in his body is screeching to flee, but instead he rises abruptly, upper lip curled into a snarl. ]
Who are you to make that judgment? This-- [ He angrily gestures to himself. ] This is real. [ Just as quickly, Loki rolls his shoulders back, smiling derisively. ] Oh, would you like me to apologize for it?
[She's concerned that he might be hurt, but not repulsed. There's a wild beauty to this form and Wanda's no less drawn to Loki like this than she was to his servant girl disguise. She wasn't raised on frightening tales of frost giants. If this is 'real' and part of him...what is it to her but just another form Loki wears?
Wanda only pauses briefly before starting to reach up to cup Loki's cheek if he'll let her. Weeks ago, it would have felt far too forward, but something has shifted in the way she sees him.]
[ 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. ]
[For a brief moment, Wanda smiles warmly, practically lovingly, at Loki before he forces himself awake and severs the connection. He leaves her slightly dazed with the suddenness of it, and for a moment she can't stand to follow him even though she wants to.
Had she crossed too great a line in trying to help him? Did the effect her touch had on him shock him awake? Perhaps it's some combination of both. They both seem to need a minute, and it's the brief brush of Wanda's hand against the ice on the cushions that snaps her out of it.]
...Loki?
[Her silks rustle as she rises and takes a few tentative steps towards him. It's not fear that keeps her from going to him again but respect that he may still need the distance.]
[ To describe his current state as exceedingly agitated is underplaying it. He rubs his index finger against his thumb without thought for they are all tangled in the mess of worst-case scenarios and the sting of betrayal. He chews his bottom lip and glares ahead, resisting the enormous pressure to act now, act now. Milliseconds feel like eternity.
He cants his head to reply, but finds himself needing to take a few breaths -- his heart's still pounding, blood still rushing -- he can't hear himself think.
But maybe she can.
The time in which he turns to face her feels sluggish, almost hesitant, and he meets her eyes with a touch of wildness in his own. ]
Why don't you tell me?
[ Not an invitation, but another challenge more dangerous than the first. ]
[Still Wanda holds her ground, but keeping this distance between them seems...better. Safer, except she doesn't think that Loki would actually try to hurt her.
She can feel his distress like pins and needles on the edges of her perception, almost like reality is warping and pressing in. Danger. She shakes her head, still trying to seem calm even though her stomach is in knots.]
Sometimes...I feel things even if I don't try, even if I don't want to. You were having a nightmare. I couldn't just try to go back to sleep.
[A breath. More than her raw power, this is the main reason people are afraid of her. Because she could be in their heads and they'd be none the wiser.] I wanted you to know what I was doing and what I was not.
[ Pause and breathe. Think rationally. That's all Loki has to do to explain Wanda's actions and, more importantly, lack of reaction. There's a shred of thought trying to impress this fact on him, but the paranoia and offense of invasion challenge it, threaten to suffocate it. The temptation to lash out draws him ever closer; to resist almost feels as physical as tearing himself away from it.
He sucks in air through gritted teeth, fingers clenching. ]
Then tell me. What did you do? [ Before he can stop himself, he adds, ] What did you see?
[ How can he know? Can he trust her word? She wouldn't be standing here with him right now if she knew of his deceit -- not unless she thinks she can face him one-on-one... No. No, she can't -- that isn't like her -- but. ]
[Wanda waits patiently while he tries to master his thoughts and emotions. Regardless of intentions, she pushed on a boundary and she needs to give Loki whatever time he needs.]
I made everyone go away. And then I went to you. That was all. [And whatever happened when she'd touched his cheek...it might have helped the problem but Wanda hadn't been trying.
A beat.] I haven't read your thoughts. Just the dream.
[ He thoughtlessly drops the snide remark with a sneer, but there's an expected degree of bite that's simply missing. It's an uneasy realization: he wants to believe her.
Another vulnerability. Wanda saw him in the most physically honest form he could ever be -- the one form that cursed him from birth -- and yet makes no mention of it. Is it avoidance? Pity?
Loki... [Her throat closes painfully.] I wouldn't lie to you.
[She can be a good actress when survival demands it, but it's not in her nature, especially not with someone she's meant to be so close to. That would be an unforgivable betrayal, especially about something this important.]
I didn't make it winter...and I didn't make you change.
[And unless Loki had asked her to change him back, Wanda wouldn't have consciously chosen to do it. She sees nothing wrong with his Jotun form, nothing at all for him to be ashamed of letting her see. Loki is still Loki, and their bond doesn't care what he looks like.]
Change. [ The word comes out like acid. ] Is that all?
[ Head cocked, he dares her to confess the revulsion he so stubbornly anticipates -- the disgust within the society he was raised -- within himself. The expected is a twisted comfort that provides him with excuses to lash out and think so poorly of others even as it stings -- no matter how much his pride would like to claim otherwise. ]
You were still yourself. And you are always beautiful to me.
[There's a quiet seriousness to her tone that leaves little room for deception and Wanda takes an unconscious step forward. She's not joking. His anger (and more importantly, his pain) has pushed her to reveal more of her own feelings than she might have otherwise. It hurts to see him like this. Wanda just wants to make it stop.]
[ Loki physically recoils, dumbstruck not by her words but the sincerity behind them. How quick he'd be to retort sarcastically if this were Sif; the sentiment would be different, barbed. He knows how to work with spite, flourishes in it -- but this. This vulnerability, this situation, this girl -- just a girl, just a Midgardian, an oddity, a soulmate, his soulmate--
The conflict is too potent to filter; it twists his features, brow furrowed, lips parted. There's something in his throat -- hope? Oh no, he can't-- Not now.
The smile he offers her is just as feeble as his rebuttal. ]
[Oh, Loki. He's lied so well and for so long he can't even tell when he's lying to himself.
Wanda takes another step forward, both hands tentatively extended. She doesn't need her powers to see how conflicted he is when it's so obvious in his demeanor, and the reciprocal ache she feels is relentlessly pulling her to him. Touch changed him back in the dream...maybe it will soothe him in the waking world.
It's always helped Wanda when she's been this worked up, anyway.]
[ He sucks in and holds his next breath, lips pressed together in an effort to steady himself. An edge has just been crossed, an inevitable fall he has resisted for years -- to trust, to expose. It doesn't feel right -- no, it fills him with an almost nauseating trepidation -- but it doesn't feel wrong. Oh, she could be playing him. She could be the one to take advantage. She could do this or that, but damn it he wants to believe her.
Exhaling, Loki cautiously extends his palm to meet her, fingers trembling. ]
[Wanda beams and squeezes his hand gently. It's a fragile, precious trust and a larger step than any they've taken since she decided not to tell Thor about him. But she cares for him (how, she's not sure) and this is enough.]
When Novi Grad fell, I was sure you were dead. So many were. [Her voice is quiet and her gaze has dropped to their joined hands. She had been in so much pain back then that she had been absolutely certain her soulmate's death had been part of the package. Where else would he have been?]
[ His heart lurches at their contact. Every fiber of his being had still expected rejection, ridicule, the basis of such fear steeped in both reality and perceived truth. He returns the squeeze with the sort of grip that isn't entirely certain of the situation and so holds on just a little tighter than necessary.
Loki could and would over-analyze every little detail moving forward, but he very desperately, very uncharacteristically wishes not to think at all right now. This development, this... thing happening here, between their touch, her smile, the mutual vulnerability -- it's simply overwhelming, and he is suddenly, keenly aware of how tired and mentally unequipped he is to rationally think through it.
But maybe with her, right here, right now, that's okay.
So he turns away from the tendrils of suspicion wondering what ulterior motive Wanda might have when she speaks. He doesn't try to predict where the conversation might go. He simply listens and cracks a faint smile after her question. ]
[It's easier to not think too much right now. Their bond has always remained an unspoken pull between them but nothing they've ever tried to discuss. Wanda's never even tried to classify her feelings. Is it love? It's certainly fondness, and it defies all reason, but up until now it's simply been. It never needed a name.]
I am on a different planet and you were supposed to be dead. It was...a lot, at first.
[She manages a faint smile. Loki's grip is almost painfully tight, but Wanda squeezes his hand again as she looks up to meet his gaze.]
But I...I am glad you found me.
[Some would call this madness, and Wanda has no way of knowing what might come of indulging it. But after everything she's lost, she can't lose him too. Not as long as there's even a tiny speck of hope.]
[ His intent was to tease, but the innocuous defense actually helps Loki to feel a bit more at ease. It means she honestly isn't in his head.
His grip relaxes. ]
You don't know how much that means to me, [ he murmurs, and there isn't a single lie in any of it -- the words, the raw sincerity, or the way he looks at her, brow furrowed just the titch. At this point in his life -- and possibly the remainder of it -- she might be the only one to feel that way. ]
[Wanda's smile softens and something in her heart she hadn't realized was tense relaxes. It's a different feeling, but a good one, like this is the way things should be.
She can't resist reaching up to cup his cheek again.]
I am not going to leave you, Loki.
[This is another truth - she'll oppose him if she has to, if he absolutely pushes her to the edge to make that choice, but she couldn't give up on him.]
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Now you're spoiling me.
[So unfortunate that sitting up requires her to let go of his hand to keep the cloth from falling. Her head still protests the movement, though thanks to the cloth and earlier attempts at rehydrating her, it's much more bearable this time. She rests a moment until the pain passes, eyes closed to savor the cold.
Finally she gives him a tiny smile.]
Is it regular koldskål or did you put something else in it?
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He merely shrugs his too delicate shoulders in response to the spoiling comment and gathers the small tray holding the soup, spoon and napkin as she steadies herself. ]
Alas, no cure-all, but a pinch of cinnamon. [ He sets the tray upon her lap and retakes his seat beside the bed, flattening his skirts beneath him like a natural. ] If you think yourself able to tolerate something more substantial, the bread and jam should compliment it nicely.
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No, that's perfect. I love cinnamon.
[Wanda had still been picturing something thicker, like a runny milkshake, but it turns out Loki was right. This is exactly what she needed. It's cooler than the water, soothes her throat, and is absolutely delicious.]
It's good. [Another warm smile, and soon Wanda's fed, refreshed, and resting.
It's a week before she regains enough strength to get out of bed and several more weeks before she can even make it to the library. While her health is no longer at risk, she is still easily tired and leaving the palace isn't an option.
She'd probably have gone out of her mind with boredom if not for Loki. Wanda's tried to shift her nap schedule so that she's not exhausted for their usual meetings, but sometimes it's still hard. The brazier keeps her room pleasantly warm, the divan is piled with soft pillows, and Loki's presence has come to be a source of great comfort.
She might have leaned too closely into his shoulder and drifted off while he was trying to explain the finer points of a particular spell to her. Try as she might, Wanda just couldn't keep her eyes open, and Loki's voice had been too soothing for her to 'just rest them.'
How long was she drifting? It couldn't have been more than an hour before a jolt of panic rouses her. She blinks, disoriented for a moment, but these fearful emotions aren't hers. So--
Loki.
He must have fallen asleep too, but he's clearly not at peace. Wanda reaches out and pauses, frowning. She could fix it with a wave of her hand, but reaching into his thoughts feels like crossing some sort of line that he might not forgive. Even for his soulmate. She definitely can't interfere without his knowledge...but she can't leave him to suffer.
So Wanda takes a deep breath, places a hand on his, and lets the scarlet twine around them as she steps into his dream.]
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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. ]
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It will be harder to ignore the second Wanda who fades into existence behind him. She's in her Scarlet Witch attire (summoned, no doubt, from her protective intentions), in contrast to her double's elegant dress.]
Loki!
[In the dream, Wanda hurries forward. In the real world, her fingers twitch and the other figures in the throne room vanish like smoke. No more Odin. No more Thor. No more false Wanda, but not before her double's expression resolves into all of the hate and disgust she's ever expressed when talking about Ultron or Strucker.
Her power doesn't touch Loki. She's too afraid of hurting him when she's not even sure what's happened.]
It's all right. It's not real.
[There's only true concern in Wanda's expression as she slowly reaches out for him. She's heard rumors of his true heritage, but with no frame of reference for what a frost giant is or should look like, it's not quite coming together. It just looks like Gungnir did something to him and now he's hurt.]
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Like an imaginary line, the surroundings behind Wanda remain gold and splendid -- and beyond her further, shadowed -- but the walls crack and splinter into the harsh, frigid terrain of Jotunheim in front of her. Loki stares at her with bewildered red eyes, the lines on his face more than worry, but actual ridges traveling down his neck and torso. His helmet is the last to chip away, its golden flecks vanishing in the snow at his bare feet, leaving a stockier set of horns in its place.
When Wanda steps forward, his grip around the scepter tightens. Every muscle fiber in his body is screeching to flee, but instead he rises abruptly, upper lip curled into a snarl. ]
Who are you to make that judgment? This-- [ He angrily gestures to himself. ] This is real. [ Just as quickly, Loki rolls his shoulders back, smiling derisively. ] Oh, would you like me to apologize for it?
[ What is a cornered animal to do but lash out? ]
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[She's concerned that he might be hurt, but not repulsed. There's a wild beauty to this form and Wanda's no less drawn to Loki like this than she was to his servant girl disguise. She wasn't raised on frightening tales of frost giants. If this is 'real' and part of him...what is it to her but just another form Loki wears?
Wanda only pauses briefly before starting to reach up to cup Loki's cheek if he'll let her. Weeks ago, it would have felt far too forward, but something has shifted in the way she sees him.]
You're dreaming.
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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. ]
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Had she crossed too great a line in trying to help him? Did the effect her touch had on him shock him awake? Perhaps it's some combination of both. They both seem to need a minute, and it's the brief brush of Wanda's hand against the ice on the cushions that snaps her out of it.]
...Loki?
[Her silks rustle as she rises and takes a few tentative steps towards him. It's not fear that keeps her from going to him again but respect that he may still need the distance.]
Are you all right?
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He cants his head to reply, but finds himself needing to take a few breaths -- his heart's still pounding, blood still rushing -- he can't hear himself think.
But maybe she can.
The time in which he turns to face her feels sluggish, almost hesitant, and he meets her eyes with a touch of wildness in his own. ]
Why don't you tell me?
[ Not an invitation, but another challenge more dangerous than the first. ]
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She can feel his distress like pins and needles on the edges of her perception, almost like reality is warping and pressing in. Danger. She shakes her head, still trying to seem calm even though her stomach is in knots.]
Sometimes...I feel things even if I don't try, even if I don't want to. You were having a nightmare. I couldn't just try to go back to sleep.
[A breath. More than her raw power, this is the main reason people are afraid of her. Because she could be in their heads and they'd be none the wiser.] I wanted you to know what I was doing and what I was not.
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He sucks in air through gritted teeth, fingers clenching. ]
Then tell me. What did you do? [ Before he can stop himself, he adds, ] What did you see?
[ How can he know? Can he trust her word? She wouldn't be standing here with him right now if she knew of his deceit -- not unless she thinks she can face him one-on-one... No. No, she can't -- that isn't like her -- but. ]
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I made everyone go away. And then I went to you. That was all. [And whatever happened when she'd touched his cheek...it might have helped the problem but Wanda hadn't been trying.
A beat.] I haven't read your thoughts. Just the dream.
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[ He thoughtlessly drops the snide remark with a sneer, but there's an expected degree of bite that's simply missing. It's an uneasy realization: he wants to believe her.
Another vulnerability. Wanda saw him in the most physically honest form he could ever be -- the one form that cursed him from birth -- and yet makes no mention of it. Is it avoidance? Pity?
His hackles rise at the notion. ]
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[She can be a good actress when survival demands it, but it's not in her nature, especially not with someone she's meant to be so close to. That would be an unforgivable betrayal, especially about something this important.]
I didn't make it winter...and I didn't make you change.
[And unless Loki had asked her to change him back, Wanda wouldn't have consciously chosen to do it. She sees nothing wrong with his Jotun form, nothing at all for him to be ashamed of letting her see. Loki is still Loki, and their bond doesn't care what he looks like.]
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[ Head cocked, he dares her to confess the revulsion he so stubbornly anticipates -- the disgust within the society he was raised -- within himself. The expected is a twisted comfort that provides him with excuses to lash out and think so poorly of others even as it stings -- no matter how much his pride would like to claim otherwise. ]
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[There's a quiet seriousness to her tone that leaves little room for deception and Wanda takes an unconscious step forward. She's not joking. His anger (and more importantly, his pain) has pushed her to reveal more of her own feelings than she might have otherwise. It hurts to see him like this. Wanda just wants to make it stop.]
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The conflict is too potent to filter; it twists his features, brow furrowed, lips parted. There's something in his throat -- hope? Oh no, he can't-- Not now.
The smile he offers her is just as feeble as his rebuttal. ]
You think you can deceive the God of Lies.
[ Please. ]
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[Oh, Loki. He's lied so well and for so long he can't even tell when he's lying to himself.
Wanda takes another step forward, both hands tentatively extended. She doesn't need her powers to see how conflicted he is when it's so obvious in his demeanor, and the reciprocal ache she feels is relentlessly pulling her to him. Touch changed him back in the dream...maybe it will soothe him in the waking world.
It's always helped Wanda when she's been this worked up, anyway.]
You know better than that.
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Exhaling, Loki cautiously extends his palm to meet her, fingers trembling. ]
One would think.
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When Novi Grad fell, I was sure you were dead. So many were. [Her voice is quiet and her gaze has dropped to their joined hands. She had been in so much pain back then that she had been absolutely certain her soulmate's death had been part of the package. Where else would he have been?]
Do you know how happy I was to be wrong?
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Loki could and would over-analyze every little detail moving forward, but he very desperately, very uncharacteristically wishes not to think at all right now. This development, this... thing happening here, between their touch, her smile, the mutual vulnerability -- it's simply overwhelming, and he is suddenly, keenly aware of how tired and mentally unequipped he is to rationally think through it.
But maybe with her, right here, right now, that's okay.
So he turns away from the tendrils of suspicion wondering what ulterior motive Wanda might have when she speaks. He doesn't try to predict where the conversation might go. He simply listens and cracks a faint smile after her question. ]
You didn't seem particularly overjoyed.
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I am on a different planet and you were supposed to be dead. It was...a lot, at first.
[She manages a faint smile. Loki's grip is almost painfully tight, but Wanda squeezes his hand again as she looks up to meet his gaze.]
But I...I am glad you found me.
[Some would call this madness, and Wanda has no way of knowing what might come of indulging it. But after everything she's lost, she can't lose him too. Not as long as there's even a tiny speck of hope.]
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His grip relaxes. ]
You don't know how much that means to me, [ he murmurs, and there isn't a single lie in any of it -- the words, the raw sincerity, or the way he looks at her, brow furrowed just the titch. At this point in his life -- and possibly the remainder of it -- she might be the only one to feel that way. ]
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She can't resist reaching up to cup his cheek again.]
I am not going to leave you, Loki.
[This is another truth - she'll oppose him if she has to, if he absolutely pushes her to the edge to make that choice, but she couldn't give up on him.]
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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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