(☾) all that i've got

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76heart
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(☾) all that i've got

Post by 76heart » Wed May 09, 2018 9:48 pm

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this is a one x one between the lovely iris
and myself, please do not post unless
you are one of us!
featuring loki and heils and all their
antics as they love each other and
immensely annoy everyone else
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76heart
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Location: winterfell

(☾) heiley 001

Post by 76heart » Wed May 09, 2018 9:51 pm

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  • xxx"Heiley, you cannot just skip meetings like this!" Madrion's words echoed down the hall, his frustration seeping thickly into his tone as he struggled to keep up with his daughter walking swiftly away from him, her shoulders tense and her mind closed off and cold, hardened like ice. His anger grew when she showed no signs of stopping, no signs of even having heard, and her pace picked up when she noticed, desperately trying to keep him from seeing the tears beginning to pool above the lower lid of her hazel eyes. If he saw them, he'd know she heard, he'd know that they hurt, that he had won, and she didn't want to have yet another lecture shouted as her back as she tried and tried to run from him. His voice came again, and she wanted to wince, though she kept her form still so he would not see. She had never been good at hiding her emotions, her intense feelings. "They regard your future and are of the utmost importance, they are not something you can just pick and choose, do you understand?" He continued, beginning to catch up to her as she slowed down, due to the fault of her thoughts going into stopping her tears. She could not let him see them, she couldn't ever let him see the droplets that threatened to spill. She heard his steps growing louder, and she could feel his irritation continue to increase at a steady pace, the anger that came off him in waves, his proneness to indignance beginning to take hold. "Heiley, don't you dare keep walking away, I am your father, and I-" Before he had the chance to speak another word, before he could even finish his last, she had whirled around, her hair swinging into the air with the movement, fixing him with a glare containing nothing but rage.
    xxx"You are not my father!" Her voice came out raised, almost a shout, her tone filled only with years of something that verged on the precipice of hatred, years of anger and resentment, and hurt, years of feelings she had never gotten to say. He stumbled backward, surprised by the intensity, and her outburst, his eyes wide, and his feet now stopped in their tracks. She was seething, her hands balled into fists, glaring daggers at the man who dared call himself her father. "You never have been, not even when I was small." Heiley's voice was softer, but the venom leaking from it was no less than it had been before. She didn't doubt that he could notice the tears in her eyes now, and she could only hope they gave her a wilder look, a dangerous one. "I am only here right now, I am only alive and standing where I am because you didn't want to have to deal with all the horrible, tiring responsibilities that come with having the throne." Heiley told him, one of her hands un-balling as she went on and swinging to the side, putting an emphasis on 'here'. She was still enraged, still angered, but now her hurt was starting to more strongly seep through. "I am nothing but a bypass to you, a thing that allows you to sit back and relax and skip your seat on your father's throne while I'm stuck with a fate I never wanted that I have no choice in avoiding like you so selfishly do when you know your wife would love the throne, and the only reason you got to skip it was because no one wanted a repeat of the foolish king. You broke a sacred vow made between your grandfather and the king because you didn't want the chores that came with it, and you thrust it all on me." Heiley found it hard to see through her tears as she went on, her lips curling up in a snarl as the words left her, venom dripping from them like water droplets from a branch after a harsh and thunderous rain. "The only time you have ever been a father to me was when you gave me this sword. Even when I was little you ignored me, you broke your promises to take me to the marketplace, and why? Because you didn't want to, because you would much rather sail on your precious ship to new lands and forge negotiations with people you haven't yet found and forget you have any responsibilities at all, that you had a daughter back home waiting for hours for you to come home because you promised you'd be back to take me to the Grotto." Heiley placed her free hand on her sword's hilt, pulling it own half way as she spoke, finding herself struggling not to throw it at him through her anger and the hurt. She could just barely see her father's expression, but she could see his eyes growing wide, his form poised to take a step back and away from her, and his expression struggling to figure out whether it was startled or offended at the words she spat, at the words that left her lips like she couldn't wait to get rid of them, like they were almost too beneath her too be said. Her eyes gave a dangerous flash as she finished, and then she calmed herself, her cold mask falling over her face, and she looked him straight in the eye, her nostrils flaring with anger that she wouldn't show. That, and the tears precariously close to spilling from her eyes were the only signs she was still as enraged as she was. "You have never, ever been my father, and you stopped trying to be the moment you figured out you could no longer order me around." Heiley told him in a faint snarl, her words cold as ice, almost emotionless if it weren't for the hurt that broke through, and the rancor animosity still oozing. She hoped she had stunned him, that she had cut him with her words deep enough so he would not forget, and she hoped her words cut through him like a knife, that they caused him at least a tiny shred of the pain he had caused her, and with one last angered glare to his startled face, she spun back around, and continued on her way. This time, he didn't try to follow, not even after she had long since disappeared from his sight, and he stayed there, frozen in shock.

    xxxNow that she had left her father, that her outburst was done, she felt empty, too empty. She felt drained, and tired, like she was a sinking stone in quicksand, and she felt weak. She wanted to sag against the wall and cry, to feel something, but she wouldn't let herself, she wouldn't allow herself to ache because of a man that didn't even come close to deserving it. She just wanted to be alone, to be far enough away from everyone so she could scream at the top of her lungs and no one would hear, though she knew it would take at least a day to get that far, and she would not let Madrion hold that much power over her. He wasn't worth it, he wasn't worth any of her energy, or any of her hurt, and she hated that she had let out an explosion because of him. Heiley would just have to settle for the gardens, and throwing pebbles into the stream until her arms hurt to much to throw anymore. She secretly hoped that she'd find Miserere, one of her two greatest friends, in the gardens, too, but she knew that would not come to pass. The direwolf had been gone for a few days, likely to hunt, as she respected that no creatures were to be harmed, at least not so close to the elves' part of the forest, and Heiley doubted that she would be back any time soon. She knew she could stretch out her mind and sight of auras across the surrounding forest to be sure, but she already had a headache from the hurt and anger she had bottled up and released and she didn't fancy a worse one from an errand that was beyond pointless. She had already wasted enough energy on something pointless, and someone who wasn't worth a drop of it, though she knew her direwolf friend would be worth far more than every ounce she could ever muster up to give. She knew that, if Miserere was in the forest however, that despite her headache, she would have already reached out to the large creature and begun to head towards her room where the wolf colored as black as night would hopefully be waiting for her, and she could just immediately fall onto the bed and curl up beside her, with her face buried in her soft fur as she struggled to hold back the tears, to hold back the rush of emotions she had felt, with her friend giving a comforting lick to her shoulder now and again, and gentle nudges to assure all was okay, likely she always did in those moments when Heiley was upset. The wolf had always come rushing to her side whenever she sensed the she-elf's pain, and she had been the first, and only to come when her sight of auras, and her magic, had first shown itself and come in at the age of five, and all she had been able to see was a blinding white that burned her eyes and persisted even when her eyes closed. There had been tiny gaps of blackness where there had been no life, or an object that blocked it, and while they had retained their normal color, the white had turned it to black, and she wasn't sure if the tiny dark splotches of abyss had hurt more than the white. The wolf had helped her to find her uncle, letting her lean on her for support and hold her fur tightly so she would not fall as she tried to remember the layout of the Los tree, and all the stairs and halls she'd have to go through to find Cadhiron. After they had found him he had only given a brief explanation, as he had a rather crucial situation with the giant spiders to attend to, and the direwolf had stayed with her until he had been able to help, which had felt like years later. The pain had dulled by then, but it had still been so very close to excruciating. That hadn't been too long after they had first met and made friends took and the wolf's almost motherly affection for her and only increased since, and the giant wolf, who stood at the height of her shoulder, almost seemed to give mental responses when Heiley reached out, like an elf would, but in her own language, and with feelings rather than any discernible words. She was truly a special wolf, and she couldn't help but wish she was here now, especially because she couldn't even go to Quig. Her mentor and her father were great friends, and her trainer had only been brought to the forest because Madrion had asked, and he had been given the position of being her magical teacher because he was the only person the crown knew for certain they could always trust. He had been the dock guard after all, a job that was not as simple as it seemed. Even as a half-human, as a Glade Elf he possessed a great control over magic, something that was needed with both his former and current professions. An elven dock guard had to have the ability to turn away fleets of unwanted ships should they ever arrive, and immediately tell if a being entered with benevolent, or malevolent intentions. His brother, Flavius, now held that position for him, while Quig lived in the forest, spending his days drinking and playing games on a board with the prison guards he was now great friends with after getting in trouble for drinking outside of festivals so often when he wasn't spending his day training with her, the two of them mercilessly whacking each other with wooden training staffs, and him watching from the side as she tried her best to mimic what he had just shown and asked her to do. He had always been there when she needed him though, and when she had been younger it had not been uncommon for her to go to his abode and fall asleep with her back facing his after he had comforted her and made sure she was alright. She had always made him a breakfast of scrambled eggs after as a thank you, and she wanted to do that tonight, but she knew she couldn't. As much as she resented her father, he was a good friend to Quig, whom she saw as her real father, and she didn't want to hurt her mentor by spitting profanities about a man he greatly cared for. The two had become friends after Madrion had lost his best friend to pirates on a voyage meant to find what lay on the other side of the great Vaas Sea, and she didn't want to ruin the friendship that had come of it, not when it mattered to Quig so much, and not when she knew it could cost him a job he loved. That was something she would never do if she could at all help it, he mattered far too much to her.

    xxxThe sound of footsteps following quietly from behind quickly drew her from her thoughts, and for a moment she could feel the rage building again, filling the emptiness it had so kindly left, at the thought that Madrion had chosen to come after her after all, but she soon realized that it couldn't be him. The foot falls were too quick, too heavy, and not swift and calculated like his, and she could hear the distinct sound of a sword's hard sheath lightly hitting a thigh. She only needed to take one quick glance behind her to determine that it was Hallothon, one of her friends who happened to be apart of the Royal Guard, and one who had a particular affinity for looking out for her and finding her when she did not at all want it. She cared about him, she did, but he was one of the last people she wanted to deal with, and she didn't want him to know about her troubles. "Not now, Hallo." Heiley murmured sternly, a slight warning within her tone, not even bothering to look back. She quickly hardened her expression, and began to pick up the pace, hazel gaze fixated on the leaves she could see at the end of the hall. She was nearly outside, and then she could go to the gardens and be alone. She knew that he wanted to follow with ever fiber of his being, and that he was struggling not to do just that; he had stuck his nose into her matters many times before, seeking to comfort her when she did not want it, and he didn't understand that unless she specifically sought someone out, she preferred to deal with things on her lonesome, no matter now many times the same three words tiredly left her lips. At least he had finally learned to stop pursing her after she had told him the simple phrase. She had a sinking feeling he'd forget what he had finally learned the next time he saw her looking troubled however, and she could only hope that suspicion was wrong. He didn't used to care about her whereabouts and feelings when they had first met, accidentally quite literally running into each other in one of the halls when he had been just a normal guard, and back then he had actually been quite charming. He had been light hearted with a good sense of humor, and fun to be around, but after the first night they had spent drinking with all their friends, he had started to change. It had been a rare occasion where all of them had been present and free, with Celebon, the son of her uncle's second in command and eyes in the Grotto whom she had known since he was two, visiting from the Grotto and Agilbert, the nervous and careful son of the head Map Maker who was six years older than herself, had been free of his studies, and they had all decided to risk a night of drinking in the tavern owned by their other friend, Erling's, parents. Erling lived above the tavern, a sweet soul with a pure heart, and the attention span if a goldfish. He adored writing books, and he had given her some ever since she had been small, and now he often asked her to help him when he couldn't decide what he wanted, or needed someone to bounce ideas off of, and she quite enjoyed the hours she spent lounging on his bed while he wrote and asked her questions. On that night though, Erling had been the one to bring them all together, and he had paid for all their drinks, much to her dismay. He had said he would take the blame if they were caught, but she wouldn't have ever allowed him to take the fall for them all. She would get the most lenient punishment, while they were all at risk, and she was set on being the one to take the blame. Nevertheless, they had all gathered, and after they were all a bit tipsy, Batrorm, a werecat with a quarter elven blood who enjoyed teasing Celebon and scaring her- in fact they had first met when he jumped out at her from the shadows, and most of their games as children had begun with him throwing a mud ball at her that she quickly returned- had decided that it was a good idea to dare her to kiss Hallothon, which she had stupidly agreed to doing because in her eyes they would never be more than friends, and it meant nothing, when it was quite the opposite for Hallo, and now he didn't seem to know how to take a hint, or accept that stealing her first kiss was all that he'd ever get from her that was not strictly platonic.

    xxxFresh, cool, outside air hit her exposed skin as soon as she reached the stairwell that swirled and wrapped around the wide Tree of Los, and she began to feel calmer, and more at ease within seconds of it entering her lungs. Nature had always seemed to relax her, to make her forget all the thoughts that swarmed her mind until she could not think, and now she could almost feel the pent up emotion slowly seeping from her, like the air from one of the fans that fanned a blacksmith's fire. It was a relief to be alone as well as she headed to the gardens, to be out of the same halls as her father, to be away from everyone, away from the place she had let her feelings take over, away from where all the emotions lay, dancing through the air for her magic to feed off of, and make it even harder for her to let go of what happened, and calm down. Why hadn't she just continued to walk? Why couldn't she have just ignored him? Why had she let his words get to her? It wouldn't have been so hard to just keep walking, to ignore him. He wasn't worth it, he didn't deserve her emotions. She shouldn't have let them show. She should have just continued walking, continuing to ignore him like she had been doing so well until she snapped and had had to go and ruin it all. Her ears twitched at the sound of her boots ever so lightly making contact with the silver steps as she went down them quicker than she likely should have. Why had she shown him how she felt? Why had she let it all out? Why hadn't she kept her computer and just let it go? Why did she have to be so emotional? Why had she let her feelings win? Why had she let him win? She hated that she had let them show, that she had allowed them to take over and release what she had managed to keep hidden for so long. Why did she have to do that? She shook her head, trying to get the thoughts out of her mind, likely looking like a mad fool to the world around her, and anyone she could possibly pass. Her pace picked up as her thoughts continued to torment her, screaming at her for everything she had done wrong and everything she should have done instead. By now, at the speed she was going, most would have probably tripped, but she had run up and down the stairs more than enough times when she wanted to just run straight through the forest and push herself to her absolute limits but couldn't, and before she knew it, she had reached the gardens, and instinctively went right to the bridge where she often went when she felt troubled. Without realizing her hands gripped and without realizing her hands gripped the wooden railing hard enough to turn her knuckles white, the piece held up by wood sung into swirling patterns, and she shut her eyes as tightly as they could close, desperate to block out the thoughts as she tried to instead focus on the sounds around her. She could hear the quiet babbling of the stream below her, the sound soothing, tinkling almost as if it were alive. She could hear the chirping of birds, each singing their own unique song she wished she knew the meaning of, and she could hear the faint scrapes of the tiny nails belonging to chipmunks and squirrels against bark as they scampered up and down and around the trees surrounding her, and she could just barely make out the whistle of a breeze. She could picture the way the water flowed over the rocks laid to rest in the creek bed, the water bumping up over a rock large enough to interrupt the brook's current, but not tall enough to break the surface, and the dancing reflections cast by the rest of the crystal clear water where the rays of sunlight managed to firmly break through, flickering as the stream went on it's way and rushed over the rocks until it widened into a small lake, wrapping around part of the Los Tree, and then narrowing to a river as it traveled to the docks at the Coastal Grotto, feeding into the waterfall that kept them safe and hidden from outside view. She didn't need to open her eyes to picture the lashings of soft moss growing in between the stones that had been set in the ground to mark the path, kept in check by the diligent gardener and the elves that visited the gardens, but unruly enough to continue growing and padding each step, even when so many had stepped on it, including herself after a long day of training in the training grounds, the only clearing in the entire forest, with Quig. She could picture the ferns that grew up from the ground, extending a curious tendril just beginning to unfurl out onto the path, and almost feel the sensation of it brushing against her calf. There was a large fountain up ahead after the bridge, one she used to play in when she was small, the pathway winding around it before it went on it's merry way. It was made of gray stone, finally cracked and withered by time, an array of determined plants growing up from it's cracks, nearly as wild and as full as the rest of the gardens where the trail did not lay. There used to be an intricate pattern encircling the base, one that had taken days to carve, but now all that remained of it was smoothed bumps, and the occasional piece that still held detail. Perhaps after she was calmer she could go over and run her fingers along it, and try to picture the splendor it had once been, and the convoluted pattern that had once caused it to stand apart from any other fountain in the Forest of Los. Much like the stone of the fountain, the statues of the elven gods that were spaced throughout the garden had begun to erode over the thousands of years, and turn slightly green from the stubborn moss that had begun to grow across them. Where Shrelen the Destroyer's scales had once been sharp and defined, and his head and expression had been almost too lifelike and ferocious, his scales were now dulled, only faintly rounded triangular shapes, and his eyes now looked more soulless than alive. His hardened and fearsome features had become soft, and the spines along his neck and crowning his head had begun to chip. If the monster was still alive now to see what had become of his statue, she was sure he would be quite insulted and enraged. Nello's feathered fur was in a similar state, though the turquoise glow that had been painted onto his small, pointed horns and Gannon's tattoo still shone as brightly as it had before, with a patches having faded and been wiped away over the thousands of years that their statues had stood. The features of Los' statue had been smoothed over time as well, and the liveliness that had once been contained so strongly within could now only be found by those who knew were to look. The relic held in the statue's outstretched hand that had been carved by the finest stone masons the forest had ever had to look exact like the one contained within her tree had since faded as well, and the design of a closed flower bud now almost unrecognizable upon the stone, though that was easily ignored and out shown by the many bright and colorful flowers that grew up the base of her statue, wrapping around the pedestal and creeping up to her legs and winding around the carved dress. One flower even dared to reach as high as her hand, nearly twining itself around the relic and poised to pluck it straight from her palm. She still somehow managed to look young and youthful though, as she had in the paintings that decorated the portrait halls, her bright red hair a stark contrast to the many white locks that followed.
    xxxA faint pain in her hands pulled her momentarily from her thoughts, and she found herself wishing she had worn her gloves, and that she had not thrown them with the more complicated pieces of her usual outfit that she currently lacked as well. Great, just another mistake for her mind to continue screaming at her about, another failure of today. She shook her head and leaned forward, trying to shut her eyes even tighter, focusing back on what she knew she could picture within her mind without the need of auras. Her boots were dark in color and ended a few inches below her knees, made of a thick material but still silent and flexible, with black laces that criss-crossed up before they tied at the top. Her pants her were a dark magneta in color, made of a very mobile fake leather, and a thick material that looked black in some lights that covered some of the inside and back of her legs. They were almost like leggings, but not quite. Her top was a darker shade of magenta still, with silvery white vertical lines an inch or so apart covering the entire piece until it fastened. It was similar to a corset, but it was no where near as constricting, and it covered more than that type of bodice would. The top was made of an imitation leather too, just like the thick belt at her waist that held her sword and it's scabbard- and often times kept her cloak in place as well-, and the piece that wrapped around her neck and shoulders and covered the parts of her chest and back that the bodice did not. Both were a darker shade than the top, and bright magenta ribbon covered what encircled her neck, wrapping under her arms to keep in place, though both were also largely hidden by her hair. There were four tight and careful braids, or well, more ridged braids, at the top of her head as well, and all faded back in with the rest of her hair, allowing it to flow gently with the breeze she could now feel more strongly. Part of her wished she wore her armbands as well, and the earrings that often adorned the tips of her ears, but she knew she also didn't want to endure the hassle of removing them later. Letting out a soft sigh and giving a shake of her head, she focused back on the sound of the babbling brook, a comforting sound she knew so well. It had calmed her the most out of all things, and she hoped that it would continue to cause her to relax.

Iris
Lovely Friend
Posts: 198
Joined: Mon May 14, 2018 12:50 pm

trust my rage | loki | i

Post by Iris » Mon May 14, 2018 1:46 pm

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Imprisonment, stripped of all titles, execution.

Of course he had thought he had prepared himself for his fate; the Allfather was absolutely nothing if not a vindictive god, and given that he was undoubtedly disapproving of the actions his younger son had taken as of late...well, again, Loki had braced himself for what would take place upon his return to Asgard. Had the god of mischief been forced to wage bets on his unfortunate fate, he would have decidedly favored execution. Odin always did love a good beheading, Loki had long suspected, though the elder god certainly would never admit to such things. No, Odin was far too well-mannered, too objective, to favor such barbarism.

What a lie; though, really, wasn't that what Asgard was built on? Lies and deception- the image of a happy royal family ruling the realm and protecting the worlds it surrounded from an ancient seat of benevolent power. Yet, somehow, the only member of the realm punished for his lies was the prince; punished, undoubtedly, for shattering the facade that Odin had spent thousands of years to create. Yes, if Loki was forced to anticipate his demise, it would come at the end of a swing of an ax as the family that claimed to love him as one of their own looked on. The queen would cry, he was certain, something that he would love her even more for- even if he wished the tears would never form. The heir apparent to the throne, Thor would grieve as well; now, that was something that Loki would never claim to understand- the idiocy of his adoptive brother's unconditional love. What more must he have done to break it, to step out of the fool's protective shadow? He had sent Odin to Odinsleep, attempted to kill Thor, lied to him more times than either could truly recall throughout the more than thousand years of their lives, threatened to kill Thor's insignificant Midgardian lover, attempted to kill Thor again, and again. Loki had even tried to rule Thor's precious Midgard- and yet, nothing had changed. Well, Loki's circumstances had admittedly changed a bit, but never had their relationship changed to such a degree that it's true nature was in jeopardy. At least, in Loki's view.

Show a bit of courtesy as to believe the warped workings of the mind of a dead man walking?

Really, if Loki was to be completely honest, the idea of his fate didn't frighten him. That was the thing about life- Loki loved it, once, when it had been so full of possibilities. What was of life now, though, really? What did the disgraced prince really have to live for? He was cast out once more, the backs of all those who he had loved turned against him. Alone, unwanted for anything of any importance outside of imagined slights and potential torture, imprisonment, or execution for betrayals or dramatic proclamations of crimes of war, with nothing but the rage he felt towards all those who had failed him fueling his every action. Loki was alone in the universe, somebody who once enjoyed life accepting the nature of his fate. Death was inevitable, and if he couldn't avoid it, then the very least he could do was take solace in the way it would haunt those who once claimed to love him for thousands of years.

The very first thing the young prince notice upon his return to Asgard was the brightness of the Bifrost. It was strange, almost, how foreign the bridge seemed to be. He had lived in Asgard for over a thousand years, often traveling or going on adventures with his brother, and yet after such a short time away from the realm this time, it already seemed like another lifetime. Perhaps it was, though, at least in a way. He had been Loki Odinson back then, a proud prince of the realm eternal, if not an equal to their heir then at least a pretend one. He had been cast in Thor's shadow, but at least he wasn't cast in to darkness of the abyss, or even worse, to the darkness of Jotunheim where his existence had begun so many centuries before. He was no longer that man, though- no, now he was Loki Laufeyson of Jotunheim, the man who slayed the man responsible for his birth to gain the respect of the family that claimed to love him. The thought did little to keep Loki's eyes from the vibrant hues ahead of him, the shimmering surface of the decommissioned bridge.

While the brightness of the bifrost seemed foreign to him, not unlike the makings of a dream routed in pitiful reality, the faces that surrounded him were far less foreign in nature. He recognized all of them, of course, as faces that he had encountered many times in his lengthy lifespan. There was Heimdall, naturally, standing ever so stoically at his station before him, the keeper of the bifrost watching the young prince with a wary expression. Oh, yes; what fun the two had experienced together before Loki's absence from Asgard. The thought itself was enough to bring the faintest of smirks to Loki's lips, tugging them upwards ever so slightly as he gave the man a small nod. While few could actually have the ability to appreciate the wary look on the gatekeeper's face given their presumably impending demise, Loki wasn't like most. Loki was more than capable of appreciating it, and the sight actually even raised his spirits ever so slightly. Yes, Loki did love to leave an impression, and if the memories of his slights against the throne and their previous disagreement were the last impression that Loki left on the ancient god, then he would be more than happy for it. A face from his childhood, perhaps, but Heimdall had always been a part of the problem that led them all to this very moment.

Or, at least, that's what Loki told himself.

In fact, for a moment, Loki almost forgot himself and giddily looked over to meet the gazes of the warriors who gathered around Heimdall. All familiar faces, of course, but Loki's mood came down a bit as he recognized them and remembered exactly who they were. Insufferably dull creatures, they were, each and every one of them. They stared at him with empty expressions hidden behind fear and loathing, all of them gazing at him with careful expressions, undoubtedly afraid he'd somehow make some illusion or pull something off that would cause them harm or have their plans ruined. Such was the limited capacity of the minds they were cursed with. Loki, on the other hand, wasn't nearly so dull. He knew that time had come to pass, that this meeting between himself and the Allfather was all but inevitable. It was time, and he was all too eager to just get it over with. Loki's eyes tore away from the warriors only when he felt Thor shift beside him, the heir to the throne moving a hand behind Loki's head to undo the mask that had been placed over his mouth back on Midgard. It quickly released, and Thor caught it gracefully before tossing it up in the air, catching it once more. Thor stared at the mask for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought for one of the only times in his entire existence, before moving his gaze up to Loki and handing the mask off to the nearest guard. "I wish you good fortune, brother, and our father's mercy."

There was something infuriatingly heartfelt in the words that rumbled from the god of thunder's lips; it was a heartbreaking goodbye of sorts, a painful closing chapter on a brotherhood that had endured over a millennium. Yet, as Loki studied Thor's face, considered his genuine words, Loki could only think of one thing in response. "Your father knows no mercy." He claimed, correcting the other man's claim of familial ties. He saved them both from hearing the continuation of that sentiment- even if Odin offered mercy, Loki wanted nothing from him.

The elder god gave a disappointed look at the words, but only a slight one-- after all, he was undoubtedly expecting it, even if he could have only ever hoped for so much more. He said nothing else to his younger brother, instead giving him one last lingering look as if he was trying to ingrain every feature in to his mind. Finally, after a few moments of the brothers sharing a look, Thor looked away and to one of the guards. "Take him to the throne room." He commanded, his deep voice impossible soft with the sadness he must have felt at the order. "The Allfather is being kept waiting." He added in instill a sense of urgency within the guards, given that not a single one of them would wish to test the patience of the ancient king. The only one there who wouldn't actually mind doing such a thing was Loki, and given his current situation, even he just wanted to get this all over with. Best to be quick about it, he figured. After giving his orders, Thor didn't look back at Loki before swinging his hammer to gain momentum, the heir to the Asgardian throne quickly taking off in to the air as mjolnir jutted forward, carrying him in to the air as he flew away from the group and towards the capitol. Loki rolled his eyes at the sight, a somewhat forced smirk tugging at his lips as he eyed the guards once more.

"This is going to be such fun." He taunted the guards, who immediately misinterpreted his words. They took it as meaning that he would put up some sort of fight, he knew immediately, as he saw poorly hidden fear flash across so many of their faces. Oh, if only they could ever be anything more than so pitifully predictable. It actually would have been entertaining to taunt them more, to resist them or create some sort of illusion in order to entertain himself, but Loki ultimately decided against it. Still, it was wonderful for him to witness all of the fear that the seven warriors possessed as a pair of them cautiously took hold of the thick chains that bound his wrists together, leading him to the small craft that they had prepared to bring him to the throne room. Loki behaved, for the most part, as he was loaded in to the craft and only gave a rather frightening smirk at those who dared look at him while the craft lifted from the broken bifrost, the pilot bringing them closer to the Agardian palace at what seemed to be a painfully glacial pace. Honestly, Asgardian warriors were some of the more fearsome to beheld, but it seemed as if decent pilots were in short supply. To be fair, with typical access to the bifrost and horses, pilots were seldom needed within the realm. Still, Loki couldn't help but reflect on the very real possibility that he would have been a better pilot than the man they were currently stuck with, even with his hands restrained as they currently were. It was an arrogant thought, to be certain, but Loki was quite alright with that.

He may not have been the golden prince or a son as Asgard, but for all of his shortcomings, a lack of confidence had never been one of them.

It took the small group a few minutes to reach the outside of the palace, the guard continuing to pilot the craft as they reached a large hall filled with giant golden status on either side, serving as walls of sorts. The path was so wide that ten of these crafts would have undoubtedly fit through the passage with ease, and yet as they reached the passage, the pilot somehow managed to make them move even slower. The slow speed at which he was being brought to his presumed execution may have been an odd thing to focus on, to get annoyed about, and yet it was at the forefront of his mind. Whether it was caused by incompetence or a dull mind in general, Loki couldn't be sure, but he knew for certain that he found the entire affair to be completely irksome. Even more odd, undoubtedly, in the eyes of some- Loki felt substantial relief flash through him when the craft finally landed outside of the large golden doors that led to Odin's grand throne room. At the very least, it meant that he would no longer be forced to deal with the warrior's insufferably inadequate flying skills- and besides, it meant he would have his fate settled that much quicker. "And so the fun begins," The prince grinned at one of the guards, unable to stop himself from messing with them even under these circumstances. Especially under these circumstances.

The guard swallowed hard and stared at Loki, the reaction both what Loki had hoped for and what annoyed him at precisely the same time. There was uneasiness that he had caused, so for that much he could be thankful, at least. Yet, the guard was unmoving, and that irritated Loki. He had to put forth quite a bit of effort to keep the grin on his face rather than rolling his eyes at the idiocy. "After you." He continued with a gesture of one of his bound hands, attempting to remind the man that they were actually here for a purpose. Thankfully, the reminder seemed to work, as the man jumped up and opened the door, nodding to another man as the two exited the craft. Loki followed them, and the two guards made space for him to walk between them before two guards from behind passed Loki, positioning themselves at either side of the grand doors to the throne room. The guards on either side of Loki moved in to position behind him, and after glancing back over his soldier, Loki confirmed that all of the guards had gotten in their typical formation that he had seen countless times before when dealing with a dangerous prisoner. The thought was both ridiculous and oddly hilarious to the young prince, who had to force the grin from his lips to fake a somber expression as he looked forward towards the closed doors once more. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before the guards in front of him opened the large doors in sync, revealing the nearly empty throne room to Loki. The first and only person he saw at first was at the very end of the grand room, the mighty king of Asgard sitting on his massive throne.

Loki's eyes narrowed at the sight of him, even if only for a moment, and the urge to laugh at the ridiculous predictability and disparity so far almost left him, even if for the briefest period of time. The two locked eyes, even from across the room, and Loki had to fight the urge to lose his composure. It wasn't as if he was tempted to break down and cry, or grow upset at the fact that the man who had raised him had rejected him after all that Loki had attempted to do to earn his favor. No, he had already steeled himself for that. Rather, as he looked at Odin, he had to fight the rage and resentment that threatened to spill over. He wouldn't all the Allfather the gift of that emotion. No, he refused. Instead, he would play Odin's little game, at least for now, until the end would come. It was inevitable, after all- what other ending could it have had but this, when Odin so selfishly chose to take Loki as an infant to raise as a pawn?

It all felt so ridiculous, such a dull ending to a life so full of promise and intellect. Still, though, Loki proceeded. Whether out of resentment or just due to his nature, Loki put on a bit of a show as he entered the throne room. It might not be a show obvious to most, but as he walked sullenly in to the throne room, it was with such seriousness that despite the situation, it could be described as nothing but a show. It was a spectacle, a performance of mockery that he was putting on, slowly and dramatically creeping up through the room. His eyes didn't break from Odin, nothing able to ruin this moment for him, until suddenly something managed to do just that- the sound of his mother's voice. Loki stopped suddenly, his head turning to the source of the sound. The woman who raised him stepped out of the shadows, a look of concern buried under a warmth that she emitted- a warmth that Loki hadn't experienced since he let himself fall from the Bifrost in reaction to Odin's rejection. If anything could make him emotional in such a time, to crack the facade he had built around himself, it would undoubtedly be her. Yet, he couldn't allow that to happen. "Hello, Mother." He greeted her. "Have I made you proud?" He questioned, brows raising a bit at the question. Of course that was exactly what he had craved, once- the love and support of his family, to be accepted as he was and to be considered an equal to Thor. Frigga had always made him feel loved, admittedly, but she was a queen in Odin's shadow, and Odin was a pompous bastard if there ever was one.

"Please," Frigga began, one hand squeezing the other in front of her. "Don't make this worse." She asked of her son, care and concern evident in her very being.

Yet, in his current situation, Loki had to steel himself- even from her. Oh, how he loathed Odin for creating this mess. "Define worse?" He challenged, raising a brow at her. He was in the throne room, undoubtedly about to be sentenced for the most idiotic of reasons. He doubted he would live to see another sunrise; how could any action he took possibly make the situation worse than it already was? The queen gave her adopted son a look, taking a step closer to the son she not long ago mourned for as dead, but stopped immediately as a voice rumbled through the throne room.

"Enough!" Odin's voice rumbled, silencing their reunion with absolution. "I will speak to the prisoner." He commanded, the words causing Frigga to hesitate before stepping back.

Loki turned slowly, eyes narrowing again at the tone before he caught himself. He couldn't let the Allfather effect him; he just couldn't allow it. Without much hesitation, Loki continued the little show of walking slowly, as if he was somehow remorseful of his actions or afraid of what Odin could do to him any more. The idea was so completely ridiculous to Loki, and try as he might, he couldn't hold back the twisted amusement he found in the situation. Once he reached the bottom of the steps that led to the throne, Loki stopped suddenly, dramatically swinging his legs together and standing tall with his chin raised. The action made a loud clinging sound as the metal of the chain that was wrapped around the ankles of his black leather trousers hit against the chain on his other ankle, and Loki simply couldn't hold it in anymore. It was all so ridiculous. The prince's dramatically serious exterior faded, the god reduced to honest laughter at the situation. "I really don't see what all the fuss is about." He told Odin.

The words hardly seemed to impress the Allfather, though truly, who did that surprise. "Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes?" Odin challenged. "Wherever you go, there is war, ruin, and death."

"I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god." Loki explained, eyeing the Allfather skeptically to see if the king truly did not see the hypocrisy in the entire situation. Still nothing. "Just like you." He added through narrowed eyes, shaking his head slowly as he watched the pompous king stare down at him from the throne that he had kept through war. How was he made evil just because his family didn't approve of one specific war, when Odin and Thor had started and fought in so many of their own?

"We are not gods." Odin was quick to shoot down. "We are born, we live, we die. Just as humans do."

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes at the comparison. Humans were weak and insignificant; even Odin knew that, and Loki knew that he knew it. Instead, Loki chose to mock the king, shrugging his shoulders. "Give or take five thousand years." He grinned. Humans were nothing.

Without missing a beat, Odin was quick to mock him in return. "All this because Loki desires a throne."

The grin dropped from Loki's features. "It is my birthright!" He proclaimed.

"Your birthright," Odin angrily mocked, his voice raising as he addressed the prisoner. "Was to die!" He yelled at him, the words causing Loki to flinch despite his every attempt not to. He had promised himself that he wouldn't allow Odin to phase him again, wouldn't let him crush his spirit and push him in to the darkest state of mind once more, but Odin was definitely giving it his best shot and it would take a lie to claim that the words weren't devastating to Loki. How could they not be, even if he attempted to brace himself against it? This was the man who had raised him, claimed him as a son. Loki had spent his entire existence seeking the man's approval, never to gain it, so how could he not be effected by his cruelty? "As a child, cast out on to a frozen rock." Odin finished, reminding him of the painful memories of finding out the truth of the circumstances of his birth. "If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me."

Loki could feel himself growing emotional, could feel the sadness and rejection seeping in to his very being once more. He couldn't allow it; he wouldn't allow the man to see him falter. No, he'd rather die first- a reality which he expected would not be too far in the future. Loki lunged forward, the chains making a loud metallic sound as they clashed at the movement. He was eager to get this over with. "If I am for the ax, then for mercy's sake just swing it," Loki pressed. [b]"It's not that I don't love our little talks, it's just...I don't love them."[/b] He stared up at the man on the throne, hoping more than anything at the moment that he'd just get it over with. He was prepared to die if it meant he'd never have to spend another moment in the damned presence of the man in front of him.

Odin didn't even blink. "Frigga is the only reason you are still alive and you will never see her again." Odin declared. The words stabbed at Loki, even if he had been so convinced that the reality of it wouldn't. "You will spend the rest of your days off of Asgard," Loki's eyes widened ever so slightly at the implication of the words. He wasn't to die, then? What, was he to be sent to some prison in Muspelheim to be tormented by the heat for the next four to five thousand years? Suddenly, Loki felt two of the guards grab hold of the chains that bound Loki's wrists, tugging him gently backwards.

"And what of Thor?"
He challenged incredulously. "You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot?"

"Thor must strive to undo the damage you have done, he will bring order to the nine realms, and then...yes. He will be king." The answer was like a turn of all the knives Odin's previous cruel words had landed through Loki's armor, and Loki looked at him with hateful eyes as he could have sworn the king looked almost smug at finally gaining a reaction from the prisoner before him- the prisoner he had raised as a son for a thousand years, but was now all too willing to throw away on another realm.

"Where will I be banished to, then, while that oaf brings Asgard to ruins?" Loki asked through gritted teeth.

Odin narrowed his eyes. "A world far from here where your destruction can be kept in check." Loki felt another tug on the chains holding his arms. "Frigga!" He called his wife, annoyance plainly apparent in his voice. "Give warning." He commanded.

With that, Frigga stepped from the column to the bottom of the stairs, beside Loki but facing him. The woman moved her hands, an enchantment filling the air between them. Loki would have recognized the magic anywhere. It was the sight of a broadcast of sorts, the queen casting an illusion of herself somewhere far away. "My dear friend." She began, looking in to the golden enchantments. "It has been far too long, Gaethel, and far too many years have passed. You once claimed to be in my debt, and it is with great sorrow that I now ask your favor to pay it." Frigga's eyes flickered to Loki, causing her to pause before continuing.

"My son, Prince Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief, has started a war for which there is no return within our realm. He is to be banished, but I ask for your wisdom and mercy, for I know that no people can look after, care for, and ensure the safety of him as your people can. I have taught him well, and few greater sorcerers shall you ever meet." Her eyes glanced back at Loki, both with sadness and pride at her own words. The sight of his own mother's sadness that he had created caused Loki to look away, something he would surely regret soon enough. Though his eyes were trained on the floor, he listened closely to any clues as to where he was going as his mother continued to speak. "But with such power comes great pain, and I ask you to guide him in a way that I fear I am no longer able to. Thank you, Gaethel; I entrust you with my son, and I know in no hands is he safer than yours." With that, the enchantment was gone, dissipating in to the air. The message was sent, and not a second too soon. "Loki..." Frigga began, reaching out for her son.

Loki looked up at his mother, his arm raising to meet her hesitant touch, though another voice rumbling through the throne room made her arm drop in an instance. "Enough! I will be alone with the prisoner, now." Odin commanded, and as Frigga gave Loki one more sad glance before retreating, Loki felt the hate for the man who had raised him fester in to a level he never thought possible. He watched his mother leave, hearing the chains around his arms drop to the floor as the guards carefully released him from his bondage. "You are to be banished from the realm eternal. In the name of all kings, past and future, you shall never step foot upon Asgard again. Should you disobey me again, it shall be the last time, for your punishment would be death." Odin warned with an even voice, the king and disgraced prince staring each other down even as Odin stood.

"Your life is my gift to Frigga, and my curse to all those with the misfortune of crossing your path. For them, I am truly sorry." He added coldly, though Loki was able to keep all of the emotions that boiled within him from reaching the surface. He wouldn't crack in front of Odin again, he wouldn't allow himself to. He'd face whatever world he was sentenced to and find a way to survive and change his circumstances, with whatever means necessary, just as he always did. Suddenly, a beam of light surrounded Loki, and he knew what was happening immediately. The Bifrost may have been broken, but the Allfather had enough power to cast Loki out without it. It was no easy task and took a great deal of energy, but Odin was immensely powerful, and more than capable of the feat. After all, getting Loki out of his kingdom was certainly a great motivator. The light beamed brighter around Loki until he was encased in it, no longer able to see anything around him. The light suddenly sucked him in, throwing him backwards and around and around until he lost track of any sense of direction, the prince's eyes wide and arms moving to try to grab on to anything to get out but the light continued to pull him, until suddenly the warm white light wasn't the only thing surrounding him, the bright hues quickly replaced by flashed of blue sky and green something that came closer so fast that he couldn't concentrate. Then, all of the motion stopped, and the flailing prince met the ground. He came in hard, and hardly in the most graceful fashion.

He landed on his stomach, leather trousers pressed hard against the soil, the silver metal that was intricately patterned in his black and dark green tunic jabbing in to his stomach that had landed so hard against the ground. Honestly, he should have been thankful for his lineage, as few species would be able to survive such a crude landing as Loki had endured as Odin had so lovingly let him plummet to this new world. A low noise escaped the prince's lips, the sound something in between a groan of pain and an angered growl. Well, that would leave a bruise, though in his current state of mind Loki could hardly concern himself with such things. He was shaken, liked a discarded pet that Odin had just thrown away after a thousand years once he realized what a damned disappointment his pet turned out to be. He was livid, trembling with not only the pain of his fall but much more significantly the pain of Odin's cruel words, the pain of losing the throne to Thor, to being told he would never see his mother again- the only parent he had ever known to show him true compassion and love.

Fuck Odin. The anger and loss were overwhelming, taking all of his attention even through the pain. If the Allfather thought he could banish the god of mischief to another world and get rid of him for the rest of his life, he wasn't nearly as intelligent as he gave himself credit for. It took the prince a moment to even realize that he needed to stand, to get off the ground and get his bearings if he had any hope of surviving and getting the hell away from wherever Odin allowed him to be, he needed to get moving as soon as possible. Maybe he'd find Gaethel, the woman his mother sent the message to. Perhaps she'd know how he could get off this planet. Or...probably not, considering his mother's message was to keep him on the planet and 'guide him', as if he actually needed any guidance. He was a god! It mattered little, really- Loki was one of the most resourceful people in existence when he was in a better state of mind than he currently found himself in. He'd find a way, he always did.

While his physical pain was nothing compared to his mental anguish, it would take a lie to claim he felt no pain. Oh, he felt it. The tall prince let out a groan as he pushed himself up, slowly rising to his feet. He grimaced at the idea of what his torso would look like under his tunic after meeting the metal of his tunic as he collided with the ground, but that was ultimately a worry for another time. It took him a moment to remind himself to survey his surroundings, the prince's brows furrowing when he finally realized that he had been sent to a forest. A forest; Odin had sent him to a fucking forest. With no one in sight at first, Loki didn't even try to hide his confusion as his eyes scanned the odd scene before him, a hand raising to push back his black locks that had became rather messy during his journey to this land. It wasn't until he turned his body a bit to get a more panoramic view that he saw for the first time that he wasn't alone.

There was a beautiful young brunette in the woods with him. Even in his dazed and emotional state, Loki could immediately recognize both her beauty and her own pain- he was masterful at reading others, and seeing that she was upset was as easy as breathing for the god- even easier, perhaps, given the pain he felt in his abdomen with every breath. In another time, any other time, he would have undoubtedly tried to charm her to get what he wanted. It was his way of things, really- charm and deceit. Yet, Loki wasn't quite in the mood nor the frame of mind for that at the moment. Instead, he took a far more direct approach. "Are you Gaethel?" He demanded, wild eyes focused intensely on the woman. He didn't wait for a response before he continued, eager for answers and to get the hell away from wherever Odin had sent him. "I am Loki, a god of Asgard, and I demand to know where I am!" He snapped irritably. It was so unlike him, but then again, when had he ever been in such a situation before?

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(☾) heiley 002

Post by 76heart » Mon May 14, 2018 1:52 pm

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  • xxxWhy did part of her still have to care for a man who only cared for her when she could be of some use, when he thought she was his to control, to use as a pawn? Why did she still care what he thought of her? Why did she still care about him at all? Why had she let him see that there was still the tiniest piece of something that wasn't consumed by her contempt meant and resentment toward him, some tiny, easily unnoticed piece that still cared? Why had she been such an idiot? Why hadn't she just kept walking, why did she have to show the hurt and snap? She gripped the railing tighter- if that was even possible-, her nails beginning to dig into the ancient wood of the bridge, and her eyes just starting to fill with tears. Heiley should have felt the pain in her hands, the soreness that had begun to set in and run throughout all her fingers, but she felt none of it, she felt nothing; she was numb. All she felt was the hurt that drowned her, the hurt she had tried to stuff away and ignore for so long and had finally freed itself from the cage she had forced it into so it could now wash over her live a wave and bring her down with it. All she felt was the pain of being nothing more than a tool so her selfish father wouldn't have to sit on the throne, just so he could sail the world and spend more time away from her and his duties with her mother as they went in search of people to make allies with she wasn't sure would ever exist. She leaned forward, putting more of her weight to be held up by her hands, and felt her mouth open in a silent cry as she struggled to keep the tears from falling. One of her hands left the railing only to harshly slam back down upon it in a tight fist before the other left the railing too, covering her mouth as her eyes finally opened and a tear slid down her cheek while she staggered backward a step, crumbling down to bottom of the bridge with her back against the railing. Why did she have to feel anything? Why did this hurt so much? Why was she letting it affect her so? She wrapped her arms around her slender form, tightly hugging herself with her fingertips digging into her sides through the material of her top as she forced her eyes closed, desperately hoping to tear herself from this pain by picturing somewhere else, some other world, but all that she saw when she closed her eyes was the one time her father had been more than just half her blood, had been a real father; the time he had given her the sword that now currently stuck to her hip, poking out at an odd angle from the way it had awkwardly been forced through the space between two railings as she staggered backward and slid down. She let out a soft sob, and held herself tighter, brining her knees closer to her chest. Why did she have to remember that time? Why did it have to be so important to her? Why had she thought things would change when he gave it to her, why had she dared to hope? Why couldn't she have known she'd only be broken because she dared to care? She had been such a fool, such a stupid, moronic, hopeless, naïve fool, and now she was here crumpled on a bridge because of it. Oh how her parents would enjoy seeing this, their precious daughter crying with anguish on a bridge in the gardens, their perfect little princess not so perfect after all. She wished more than anything that she could hate them, that she would be able to curse their names, but she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried and desperately wished she was able to, and all because their was some idiotic tiny part of her that still dared to hope they cared, that they would someday act like her parents, that she'd get the attention from them she had craved and never got as a child, that they'd keep their promises this time, that it would be like the day she had gotten her sword. Heiley knew there was no hope in that, she knew that deep in her core like everyone knew how the sun would always rise in the morning and the moon would come up at night, but still she couldn't get that part away, couldn't scream for it to leave because it still clung to that stupid moment that had more of an impact than it was ever worth. She wished she could forget it, or that her uncle had been the one to give it to her instead, her uncle who cared, but that hadn't happened, it was never meant to, and she couldn't change the past. She felt another horrible tear slip down her cheek, and cling to the side of her chin before it fell.

    xxxTechnically, her mother, Caewin, should have been the one to give her the sword, as it was from her family, and not her father's, though she had always disapproved of the fighting path she had chosen to take, and didn't think it proper for an elven princess to spend her days hacking away at training dummies with a silly sword instead of reading in the library and learning what it meant to rule and how to do it, and thus the responsibly had fallen to her father, who didn't hate the premise of it as much as her mother. That hadn't been on her mind at the time however, actually it had been far from it; she had been too excited, to happy at the fact her father was doing something a father should with her to realize that, and she wished she had realized that sooner, for maybe now she wouldn't be in as much pain. Maybe if that had been the case, she wouldn't still be calling Madrion her father after she had just told him he never had been. She wanted to scream as loudly as she possibly could to express her frustration, but she couldn't do that here, and even if she could, she wasn't sure if she would have been able to with the memory playing in repeat behind the lids of her closed eyes. It was all far too clear, unnervingly vivid, almost clearer than the things that had become so constant she had memorized them long ago, like the lines on her palm and the nicks in her fingers from training with a sword that had scarred but never truly healed and returned to looking as they had been before any damage had ever befallen them.
    xxxOn the day her father had given her the sword, he had at first stopped her while she walked through the halls, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before she could slip away. She remembered wanting to yank her shoulder free and run, but after she had looked at him and saw there was a gentleness she could just barely remember from when she was small swimming within his eyes, she had given it a second thought, foolishly let her guard down, and decided to give him a second chance. She had also been curious to see what he wanted, and she had wanted to see if this was the start of changing, the start of seeing how much he had hurt her with all of his broken promises and glances that pretended she didn't exist and passed over her as if she were nothing, a ghost, the start of him being a father. She wished now that she hadn't been so curious to see that, so hopeful, or that at the very least gone into the situation with apprehension rather than curiosity and hope, or even tugged away from him before any if it had began; the stupid sword wasn't worth this at all, and now it was haunting her. She watched as the scene continued to play in her mind beneath the lids of her hazel eyes, and wanted to scream at herself to turn around and ignore her father as he started to lead her down the way he had come, guiding her throughout the halls she knew by heart and taking her to the entrance of the grand library that lay above the throne room. He hadn't said a word as they walked, and when she had asked where they were going he turned back to look at her with an expression that told her to wait and see, that she would know soon enough. Heiley remembered sensing something serious behind his silence, something that was about to come that meant a great deal, something pivotal, and she remembered how she had wanted to peak at his aura to see, but that she hadn't been brave enough to do so. She hadn't wanted to see that this was all a lie, a front, and she had been too afraid to see what he really thought of her, what he really wanted from the daughter that followed him without nearly enough question, and she knew now that that was just another mistake. She should have been brave enough to look and realize this wasn't right before it continued and broke a piece of her heart, but she hadn't, and now she hated herself for that. Why hadn't she grown out of being such a stupid fool? Wasn't two years enough for that to change? Her father opened the door for her, intricate carvings of a tree adoring the wood, with convoluted swirls of roots and carefully painted trims of green and silver dotting the leaves and patterned sides, and he entered and closed the door delicately behind him after she stepped inside, now feeling more confused than curious, and slightly wary. She just wished now that the wariness had been stronger, that it had overcome her so she wouldn't have fallen for his cruel tricks so easily. He lead her through the many tall shelves of books of all shapes and sizes, up the elegantly designed spiral stairs that lead to the vast rooms upper half, and stopped at the doors that opened to the small balcony at the far end of the library. The door were nearly identical to their kin at the front, with the same pattern on their surface, except these had more greenery around them. There was a vine snaking it's way up the frame, long since attached to the wood, it's life filled with attempts to get back outside, to feel the sun's warmth fresh upon it's leaves once again, to soak up the rays into it's awaiting veins, to get it's nourishment from the cold rain rather than the willing Los Tree. Part of her wanted to help the vine out, even now, though she knew she wouldn't be strong enough to move it, it was older than herself, possibly even older than her parents, and no one had ever managed to convince it to budge, even with song.
    xxxHer father pulled her from her thoughts by using his voice for the first time, and she remembered seeing his hand grip the door handle carefully as he thanked her for not running away or ignoring him when he asked for her time, her eyes flicking back to him as he finished to search his face for any sign of a lie. She hadn't found one, he had seemed genuine, and even now as she watched her memory replay itself and unfold she couldn't spot where the lie for this all began. Once again he pulled open the ancient doors, and followed her in while closing it behind him after gesturing for her to go first. She had taken a moment to look around, to see what had changed since she had last been on this balcony years ago, and found that it looked roughly the same as it had before, nestled between to ridges in the great tree where it dipped in for a time, with new flowers covering the balcony and moss growing on the thick bark, as well as the door. When she turned to her father, she blinked in surprise, confusion taking over. There was a sheathed sword in his hands. She watched him with an even more perplexed expression as he took a step forward, holding it out to her. She carefully excepted it with both hands, and watched him as he explained. He told her this was her family's ancestral sword, that it had once belonged Suiledir himself, and that now it was her time to have it, her time to wield a symbol of her people. It's name had long been lost, but the energy and magic her ancestors had stored in the blade's two gems for decades had remained, and he explained that now she could draw upon that as she chose, and that it was her duty to replenish what she took and return even more than that, and to protect it and keep it safe. It was the oldest sword the elves still possessed, and she didn't want to be the one to lose it. Subconsciously, a hand moved down to where it currently lay at her hip, fingertips brushing against the hilt she had since wrapped in a fake leather of the same magenta color it had always been. Heiley had looked down at it after he finished, examining the sword carefully, still holding it as if it were made of glass. The hilt was magneta and covered in indents, and on it's end there was a small garnet, or some other similar gem encased in a pointed oval shape of the elves' silvery metal, and in the other end, where the blade began, there was a matching larger gem about the length of her palm, with the metal encasing it in a similar way, the two pieces that stuck out on either side drooping toward the blade. The larger gem was also so what covered by the metal, with the silver colored substance carefully laid on the gem to resemble their sigil, a tree, and a similar pattern was on both ends of the sheath, the top completing what the gem missed, and the pointed end mirroring the tree. The rest of the sheath was decorated in swirling silver patterns, the base material being a darker magenta, and she wished she knew what the material was called. Just as she began to pull the sword from the sheath, her father began to speak again, and she realized only a short moment had passed. She looked to him, and felt her heart stop as he told her that it was an honor to be the one to give it to her, and that he couldn't be prouder that she was the one to receive it, and that he couldn't be prouder of who she had become. She believed it, all of it, and she wished she had been able to see through his lies, see through the words she had always wanted to hear from him; that he was proud of her, that he cared. She remembered beginning to tear up then, some tears sliding down her reddening cheeks as she realized that her father cared, and he had pulled her into a hug as she cried, beyond happy to finally have the father she had always wanted him to be, promising he'd be there. She could still feel his arms around her if she focused hard enough, and she shivered. He had taken her hands after she calmed, squeezing them as he looked into her teary eyes, and she finally thanked him for the sword before he kissed her forehead and left. When she had seen him the next day, excited to say hello, he had ignored her as he always had, not even acknowledging her for a second, and it had been then that she realized with a crushing start that it had all been lies, and that she had fallen for them without a second thought. She wondered how good he was with lies now, if he would ever manage to trick her again. She felt the pieces of her heart he had healed break apart all over again, even more chips falling to the ground and shattering, and she had stood where she was for hours, frozen, feeling her heart crumble piece by piece, until she finally moved, and broke down into tears. It had been Miserere that found her, and after running to get Quig, she had ended up back in her bed. She still hadn't told Quig what had happened, and she didn't intend to; there was no way she could without hurting him, and hurting him was never something she wanted to do.

    xxxAs the memory finally let her shove it away, satisfied with the torment it had caused her by forcing her to relive it, her head leaned back swiftly and directly hit the railing behind her. She cringed, a hand reacting up to inspect the damage, and felt another tear betray her and fall from her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was from the sharp pain blooming in the back of her head, or if it was from the ache in her heart. If she had to pick though, her money would be on the latter. Heiley leaned forward then, starting to curl up, one of her hands balled into a fist, with her nails digging into her skin to distract her from the rest of the pain she felt. Why did she have to torture herself this way? Why did she have to force herself to relive the memories she thought she had finally managed to bury so very deep? Why did she have to still feel pain at the memories? Why couldn't she just turn her feelings off and stop being an idiot? Why did she have to cry for a father who had never been worth her tears, a father who had fooled her, a father she had let win? She let out a choked cry. Why had she had to allow him to win? Why couldn't she have held it all back and waited until she was alone? Why hadn't she been smarter? Why couldn't she have realized this would only lead to regret? Why did she have to focus on all she had done wrong, why did she have to go over it this way in her mind, why did she have to be such a fool? She felt another tear roll down her cheek. She was an idiot, she was such a horrible idiot. Why didn't she ever learn? Why did she have to dare to hope that her parents would ever grow to care when they hadn't shown signs of true love and care for her in twenty years? Why had they never been there when she needed them the most? Why did she have to cry? She pulled her hands to cover her face, feeling more of the tears fall, pushing them away with the tips of her fingers. She knew that asking why wouldn't help anything, that nothing in the past would be changed, but she couldn't help it, it was the only thing that came to her mind, the only thing she could think, the thing her thoughts always came back to no matter now hard she tried to stray. Why-
    xxxSuddenly a light seemed to surround her, a light she could see clearly even through her tightly shut eyelids, almost like the sun continuing to persist and make itself known as she tried to rest in the mornings until she put a hand over her eyes, and even then sometimes continued to persist. This wasn't the sun though, there was no way it would reach her this brightly so far down on the forest floor when it only just managed to break through the windows in her room. Something wasn't right. Her eyes quickly opened, and she leapt to her feet, her hand quickly flying to the hilt of her sword, though it was a few moments before she saw anything, and when she did, she truly didn't even know what to think. There was a flailing man she had never seen before falling from.. the sky? No, falling from... the.. light? What? Was this her mind playing tricks? Was this her mind's way of playing a sick joke? Had her pain caused her to hallucinate? She didn't have much time to consider what was going on though, because the man was quickly coming toward the ground, and in the moment he made contact with the forest floor, all of her thoughts vanished, all her pain and worries stored away for another time, and the only evidence that remained of her hurt was the tears in her eyes, and the trails they left upon her cheeks she had failed to wipe away. She jumped when the sound of his fall reached her ears, wincing for him while her hand flew to her mouth to keep from gasping, or from screaming in surprise. What in the gods' name had just happened? Who was this man, and what the fuck was that light? Was he even alive? His fall had looked more than a little painful, and she knew for a fact that if any elf had taken that same fall with the same impact, they would have died, or at the very least earned a ruined spine; if this man survived that, and was still able to walk, he was certainly no ordinary man. She took a quiet step closer, approaching where his body lay to see if there was anything she could do to help, or to see if she could help him up, though before she was able to take another step, a low noise escaped the man, and she froze. He had survived plummeting to the ground from the sky? Her ears gave a twitch. It sounded like it was a groan of pain coming from him, although it also sounded vaguely like an angered growl. What was even happening? What was going on? She took another step forward, careful to stay silent. The last thing she wanted to do was startle him and risk evoking the wrath of a man who had just fallen from some magical light, and lived. She was close enough now to see that he had fallen on his stomach, right in the middle of some unfurling ferns that extended over the pathway. She was glad that he had missed the stones. She continued to carefully advance, her steps slow and silent, with one hand on the pommel of her sword, ready to defend herself and the forest if he turned out to be an angry man that was ready to fight. Heiley froze again when she heard another groan leave him, having only just finished taking a wide step, and watched with wide eyes as he began to push himself up, slowly rising to his feet. She prayed to the gods that surrounded her in the statue gardens that he wouldn't notice her just yet, that she'd be able to remain unseen and observe for a little longer, just until she figured out if he was safe or not. She flicked her fingers to ward away Shrelen with the thought, specks of magic visible around her fingers for a brief second, not wishing to bring the attention of the ancient and cruel dragon down upon her or her home. When he managed to stand, and she caught a glimpse of the metal adoring the tunic he wore, she grimaced. That certainly had to hurt, a lot, and she hoped he'd allow her to take him to the healers, or allow her to check him out herself to make sure that no serious damage had been done. Something told her though, that he wasn't as injured as she thought, and suffering in a different way. She watched as he raised a hand to push back the locks of his black hair, taming them slightly from the wildness they had undoubtedly taken on during his time plummeting to the earth and colliding with the hard ground. From what she could see, she imagined that previously his dark locks had been carefully slicked back. She dared to take another step forward as he seemed to be surveying the forest around him, trying to figure out where he had been dropped, though, unfortunately, when he turned his form to get a more panoramic view, she was certain that he knew he wasn't alone, and that he had caught her mid-step. She froze, her hazel eyes wide.

    xxxEyes the color of emerald, his eyes, had seen her, and now she felt like a caught child that was trying to sneak another portion of desert in the darkness of the night. She could feel her cheeks flush. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed his breathing though, it seemed hard, almost labored, and she felt her startled expression soften. She swallowed, and then glanced back up to his face, concern written in the way her brows began to knit together. If he was greatly pained, he was hiding it well. She sensed another pain too, one that seemed to be more emotional and similar to her own, though she couldn't be certain, and she didn't want to use her sight of auras to check while she was so close to the Los Tree, that was too dangerous when the tree's aura was so bright, and she didn't want to have her mind clouded by a headache if he turned out not to be a friend, and rather a foe. Heiley hoped he would turn out to not be the latter; she didn't want to fight him, she had already had enough pain for the day, and she didn't want to cause him anymore. She wanted to get him help if she was able, and at the thought she felt her expression soften again.
    xxxAt the sound of his silky voice however, and the words that left his lips, all softness within her expression fell away, and her gaze quickly hardened. She closed the space between them in an instant, her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. "How the hell do you know that name?" Heiley demanded, and almost wild look flashing through her hazel eyes. Gaethel was the name of Los' Grandmother, a woman who had died long ago, before there even was a Forest of Los, and only a handful still knew her. Her name had been lost in their history books long ago, when it was still spelled in their ancient tongue, and it hadn't come through with translation, at least not in the books that most owned and learned from during their days in the nursery where the kind woman who ran it taught them all the academics they needed to know. The only ones who knew her name now were her family, and those who worked closely alongside her kin, and the very few who chose to do their learning in the royal library, and she knew for a fact he was not one of them. He wasn't an elf either; his ears weren't pointed, and that aroused even more suspicion. He shouldn't know that name. She circled him as soon as she reached him searching his expression, and watching him with cold eyes. The man was taller than her, and very handsome, though she couldn't allow his good looks to get him out of answering her question, and after all, if everyone was let off the hook because they were attractive to someone, then no one would ever get the justice they deserved, and murderous criminals would be able to walk beside innocent children and families of those who had done nothing wrong. His eyes were focused intently on her, as hers were on him, and he didn't wait before continuing after asking if she was Gaethel. She listened to his irritable snap, her eyes filling with anger, and just as he finished, declaring he was a god from some place called Asgard and demanded to know where he was, something within her snapped, and before he could take another breath her sword was at his throat, her fingers dancing to a spell to dull the blade so it would not pierce his skin. In the same moment, her eyes also flashed to his aura before she could stop them. Her eyes were almost dangerous now, her expression holding no warmth as she glared at him with a malice she thought she could only hold for her terrible father.
    xxx"You stand amongst the statues of the Elven Gods of Losmealia, what claim to being a god do you have? What gives you the right to demand anything when you appeared out of absolutely nowhere, and then proceeded to-" Heiley paused for a breath, the words spilling from her lips like a waterfall after her dam of calmness seemed to snap for a second time that day. "to use the name of my ancestor, the grandmother of one of our gods, and finally claim to be one yourself?" Heiley asked, fixing him with an unwavering stare as she searched for the lie within his words. His-no, Loki's aura betrayed no signs of anything but truth, and that only caused her to narrow her eyes further. Did this man truly dare to call himself a god here? In the gardens of those who had been given that honor after giving something great or making a sacrifice for her people, the elves? "What have you done to earn that honor?" Heiley challenged with a snarl, her head tilting up and her form straightening so she could better meet his gaze. Who was this man, this Loki, and why did he think he had the right to demand anything after speaking a name he should never have known and appearing from a light in the sky? What nerve did he have? What put him in any position to ask things of her when he claimed to have the highest honor anyone could ever have? What even was Asgard? How did he even get here? Her sword pressed a fraction harder against his neck. She debated removing it for a moment, fearing it would keep him from answering, but she decided against it; it was better to know nothing than to risk her life or that of someone else's. If he cooperated and answered what she asked of him then she would consider it, though until then he would have to get used to the cool metal held firmly against his neck. "And I ask, as Princess Heiley-Lihris Los of the Elvenan, what the fuck are you doing here?" Heiley questioned finally, taking another step closer. It was hard to claim any authority when he was looking down on her, but she would not stand for her ancestors to be insulted, for those who sacrificed their lives and earned the eternal remembrance through being revered as a god to be disgraced, for any of them to be tarnished in any way by a stranger who came from a distant world and made the claim to being a god himself. She knew it also wasn't proper for a princess to curse and use such a foul word, but she couldn't bring herself to care; this man had pressed a button, and she shouldn't have been as gentle as she had been when he uttered Gaethel's name. When she focused back on his green eyes, her own held a challenge, and they locked with his in a glare as cold as ice as she waited for his answers.

Iris
Lovely Friend
Posts: 198
Joined: Mon May 14, 2018 12:50 pm

trust my rage | loki | ii

Post by Iris » Wed Nov 07, 2018 3:20 am

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The fallen prince was furious. Furious at Odin, as he had been for some time now, though that furious nature had a tendency to lash or at the very least effect others. He couldn't help it, really. He had just landed in some world that was completely alien in nature to him, and after such a series of events had unfolded it, he couldn't help it. Gone, even for the briefest of moments, was his trademark sense of rationalizing and recognizing the best way to use the events that he found himself a part of to the best of his advantage. He couldn't think of how to possibly charm his way in to a better environment, how to try to improve the situation to advance his own goal further and remain five steps ahead of his opponents who often weren't even aware that they had entered in to a sort of mental chess match with him. No, in that moment, right after he had pulled himself from the foreign soil, he wasn't thinking as he normally might. Absent were any attempts to befriend or flatter the woman he spotted. No, he had been out for one thing as his mouth had opened- answers, a way to get where he needed and get the hell as far away from whatever planet Odin could have possibly agreed to send him to. Unfortunately, the lack of the god of mischief's typical finesse showed plainly in his actions. He wasn't subtle, acting more like the witless oaf he had called a brother than his normally calculated self. All of which could be understood, perhaps, but perhaps not excused- especially given the reception that he was met with.

Of course, Loki couldn't have expected anything. He didn't have the time, let alone the current mental stability, to be able to anticipate anything about this world or who he might meet in it. Hell, even if he had been granted the time to consider such things, his expectations would have been incredibly low. Loki didn't think much of most people anyway, regardless of the timing or circumstances in which they could possibly have met. That being said, the current circumstances he found himself in were terrible in a sort of epic and not easily comprehensible way. If Odin had allowed him to come here, any sort of rational thought would have told him to shoulder spectacularly low expectations. Yet even if he had been given the time to actually contemplate what might be waiting for him here in this strange new world, even with Loki's spectacularly creative mind, the odds of him being able to dream up anything close to the reality of what was going to greet him here weren't great.

The young woman he had spotted seemed so completely average in nature upon first glance, even if not in appearance. A brunette of average height and blessed with an undeniably attractive face, she seemed presumably average in the way a visitor with a completely untrained eye regarding the locals couldn't help but assert- not as a reflection of her features or appearance in a more general way, but rather again who she must have been- her place within society. It was presumptuous, perhaps, but being presumptuous really wasn't his greatest downfall. The moment the irritable words left his lips, even in his current nonsensical state Loki could feel a shift in the demeanor of the foreign woman who stood in front of him. It was almost as if, in that moment, he recognized that his emerald eyes had locked with the woman's hazel orbs, and he could feel the emotion shift within them. Loki was always gifted at reading others; one had to develop the skill if they wished to not only survive but to prosper even after all of the bothersome actions they had taken against others in so many years of existence. His emotions had clouded that the moments he had laid eyes on her, his anger at Odin and irritation at the entirety of the situation and the pain of it all having halted any natural nuance, but yet the shift was so significant that even in this state, he could still feel it.

With his words, a sort of softness that he hadn't been of the mind to fully observe or appreciate so clearly left her features. In it's place was a sort of wildness, though in the wild nature of the expression Loki found familiarity. It was strange, perhaps, given the alien nature of this girl to him- or of him to this girl, though his ego wouldn't quite acknowledge that possibility right away, that such a look could be so familiar. Startlingly so, perhaps, though Loki's circumstances left him too numb to reflect on that for far too long. It must have just been something universal, then- something beyond lands, something personal and yet far-reaching. In that look, he was given his first taste of what was to come, though her verbal response left little doubt that he could have been wrong.

It wasn't funny. In a rational world, a world of sanity, order, deep and unquestionable meaning, nothing about the situation that Loki found himself in was funny. He had just been defeated, banished, cast out from all that he had ever known and rejected for the entirety of all that he ever had been and could still be. Loki was no longer the mischievous prince of Asgard, but rather someone who had been cast out and deserted. Odin had made clear his intention to make certain that Loki would never see Frigga again, the person he loved most and who had always accepted him for what he was. In any sensible world, nothing in the entirety of the university should have been funny. Yet Loki didn't live in a sensible world; for all of the opulence he had know, such a privilege had never been bestowed on him. Chaos was his nature now, and to try to make sense of it especially now would surely be to welcome the descent to madness itself. So no, it wasn't funny- not the situation, the look in her eyes, or the way she raised her sword to his throat. In a rational world, it really wasn't. Yet to Loki, in that moment, it was the most entertaining thing he had experienced in the immediate past.

It was funny in a sort of ambiguously self-deprecating fashion, and yet so narrowly not in that fashion at all, quickly festering and developing in to a nonsensical sense of delight that the angry woman's words and actions had sparked. Certainly, even in his state of mind, Loki was still Loki and maintained enough of himself to at least acknowledge some of the most obvious inferences the god of mischief could take from her words. Fury seemed to radiate off of the woman, and while Loki could have taken it as a sign of secrecy, of a woman angrily clutching at hopes of anonymity, the wording immediately told the god that he hadn't been sent to plummet painfully to Gaethel's side. Of course that could have irritated him even further, it should have, and yet how could it when the blade so swiftly moved to press up to his throat and words so ridiculous escaped the woman's lips? As soon as the blade was raised Loki's lips began to spread in to an amused grin, his chest shaking and bringing back a distinct increase in the pain he felt through his chest and abdomen as a laugh escaped his lips. Whether it was due to the preposterous nature of the situation he was currently in just furthering what so many would deem to be madness, the fact that this ridiculous girl dared to threaten him, or her words by their own right, even Loki wouldn't be able to say, and yet the amusement vocalized and escaped his lips, replacing any sort of fear that should have undoubtedly been there in the moment. He just truly wasn't afraid. Whether it was his ego or his nature or the fact that in the moment his thoughts were scrambled and nonsensical even as they began to slowly reconnect like magnets struggling at great distance, of what consequence was it really?

His amusement didn't end there, at least not completely, though it soon morphed in to something of a somewhat parallel nature. At least, parallel for him, even if only him and even if only in that moment. His assumptions were quickly confirmed as she continued, though the revelation that this woman was not Gaethal but instead one of her descendants didn't escape his notice. Fantastic, then; what did that mean- had he been sent to live among some ridiculous and insignificant short-lived people? It wouldn't surprise him, really, though the fate of which seemed a little too kind for Odin to agree to, even if it had been his mother's idea. "Brilliant, more elves," Loki chuckled sarcastically under his breath as she spoke, green eyes briefly raising to the sky and his mind quickly shifting to her earlier words. Naturally, what came to mind for the banished prince of Asgard was Alfheim, one of the nine realms and the home of the light elves. It wasn't a place that Loki loathed, really, though it certainly wasn't one of his favorites. It was a place he had been to many times, enough that he had a thorough understanding of the culture even beyond the books he had read in such great numbers and the ever shifting nuances that the different regional tribes had. He had even been sent there for not an entirely insignificant length of time during his training with magic, so many centuries ago.

He knew the people well, even if not entirely willingly at times, but he would have been adequately familiar with them to know if that was where he landed, if that was the type of people he was dealing with. Even beyond his own ego, if it was entirely possible to even consider such a thing, he knew that it couldn't have been the light elves for various other reasons as well. The woman holding a sword to his throat certainly didn't look like any light elf he had ever seen, Odin never would have sent him to a place within the nine realms for his banishment, especially such a magic-friendly place where he was so well known and would have had no difficulty in finding a way off of the planet, which only led to the final way that he knew he wasn't dealing with a light elf from any new tribe that he couldn't have possibly anticipated upon his arrival. She didn't know who he was, even after he had introduced himself. Hell, she didn't even seem to recognize the word Asgard. The former was surely a much greater blow to his ego than the latter, though given that the girl seemed to hold some sort of significant reverence for the statues that surrounded them in this ridiculous place, he shouldn't have taken it too personally. The man nearly scoffed at the words but didn't quite, his eyes hardening nearly to their prior appearance, though the reignited irritation didn't quite move to his lips which instead still held a grin.

There was no visible sign or surprise when the woman introduced herself, though Loki certainly didn't allow himself to ignore the title that she had boasted. What, was he, Loki of Asgard, god of mischief, supposed to be impressed by such a title? Or even worse, intimidated? Ignoring it outwardly at her demand all together, his eyes remained the same as they held on to the hazel orbs even as his grin tugged ever so slightly harder at the edges of his lips. "So you aren't Gaethel, then?" He taunted, entirely ignoring the question at hand even as the blade lingered so near his throat. "Pity, what fun that would prove to be," The annoyed god claimed sarcastically, his eyes leaving hers only to eye his surroundings for a moment before promptly returning his attention to her, any sort of amusement that the perceived ridiculousness of her words had offered quickly waning and draining his patience. The one person who would have been accessible, perhaps to be persuaded to aid him in getting the hell away from this new world, was gone. When that decline in patience began, it wasn't subtle, and it certainly didn't take long before it showed. The effect of his amusement escaped quickly, almost unnaturally, for better or for worse. He wasn't in the mood for this- he hadn't been from the moment he had landed in this strange land, but certainly not with the blade to his throat despite the amusement he had found in the scenario, and especially not when he found the woman to be some lowly statue-worshiping princess who didn't even know who he was.

"Oh, you dull heathen," He shifted, his tone once again letting his irritation and disdain show, though the words themselves did little to hide just that. "You attempt to threaten me? I am a god," He repeated the claim, his very nature not allowing him to ignore the slight against that title, against his ego. Even now, in this state of mind and with the cool feel of metal pressing against his throat, he couldn't. Ignoring the temptation to use magic to conjure up daggers, even, his priorities were perhaps admittedly askew. If he was frightened in that moment his natural knack for self preservation would have undoubtedly kicked in, but he just wasn't. "It is not my wish to be here, I was sent to find Gaethel. Remove your blade and point me in the direction of a way off of this glorious planet and you can go back to praying for your beloved statues in peace, Princess." Naturally, the words held no shortage of contempt that was impractically placed on this world he had been banished to, and his words were nothing if not condescending, but Loki held little patience for anything other than something so direct. Besides, given the personal slight and the fact that this woman was holding a blade to his throat, Loki would have been easily able to justify his actions to himself if he had felt the need, not that he ever faced difficulties in doing just that.

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(☾) heiley 003

Post by 76heart » Sun Nov 11, 2018 1:51 am

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xxxWhat horrible thing had she done, which god had she offended, what horrible crime had she committed, to deserve this horrible day? First there was her father, and now there was this, this man, who was infuriating in more ways than she could describe, that had just appeared out of no where and then fell fell from the sky, proclaiming he was a god and asking for someone of who's existence she should not know. What had she ever done to deserve this after a confrontation with her horrid father that still found a way to pierce her heart, even through her rush of anger towards this new man? What had she done? And why could she not just be left to cry alone in the moment she needed to, to feel her hurt and try and begin to heal? Why couldn't she just do that, why couldn't he have fallen right near someone else, somewhere better suited to such things? Heiley knew though, that it was good it had been her he appeared near, and not someone else. Most of her people would have either run and screamed or been far too curious, and if it had been a guard, well, they would not have taken him kindly to her grandfather for saying such things, and no matter how much she loathed him in this moment, she didn't wish that for him. She just wished she knew why this was happening to her, and why it was happening now of all possible moments. She was someone, like most elves were, who believed in everything happening for a reason, and while technically everything did happen for a reason, either by one's choice, or by the laws of nature, of the world, she believed in the deeper meaning as well, of a fate's design, and some unknown hand guiding each creature down it's path, or at least pushing it to a possibility one could then choose and influence, since she was not fond of her own fate not being her own. Nonetheless, it was still something she felt to be true, so what reason did this happen for? What was the reason for this awful day? What was the reason for this handsome, albeit very indignant and irritating man, being dropped from the air so close to her as she was in the middle of so much pain, and seeking solace from it in the gardens? She knew there was a reason- there had to be some explanation, even if it wasn't a more divine spiritual one, things like that didn't just happen-, she just wished she knew what it was. That was something she had always disliked about the older elves, and the ones more connected with their ancestors and gods; they were always so cryptic about things, and she just wished they'd say what they were getting at. She knew that something's were something someone had to figure out on their own, without help from another, or else what was needed would never come to pass, or at least not come to pass as it should, but did it really have to be all the damn time? Could whoever was playing games with her right now, just come out and give her some hint as to why this was happening, as to what she had done to deserve this? She wouldn't have been nearly as bothered by it all, or even minded it, if the man hadn't immediately demanded to know if she was someone he shouldn't know of the moment he opened his mouth, but he had, and now she was standing so very close to him, with her sword pressed to his throat, after he had continued to declare himself a god when he had no such right, at least not here, in the Forest of Los. Whoever had shoved him to her, she really hated them right now, and she wished they would just leave her alone, or give her someone who would care about her and listen rather than him. She knew fate could be mysterious, and that it could be even more tricky, but did this really have to happen? Did this really have to be? She wished she could believe this was just some awful nightmare, but she knew it wasn't, the ache in her heart was far too real, and if this was a dream, she doubted that he would be the one she had her sword pressed to. No, this was real, very, incredibly, utterly real, and there was to get out of it now that it had happened. Why did things like this never go her way? Why couldn't he have been as charming and sweet as he was dashing, rather than an arrogant donkey? She understood not being the kindest after a fall, but being moody because of a nasty fall was much different than demanding things he by no means should have ever known, and proclaiming oneself to be a god in a rather sacred place. The gardens themselves weren't sacred, nor were the statues, but they were close, and they were important in preserving the memories of those that had earned that honor until time finally ran out. They meant more to her than they did to most as well, as one was her ancestor, and even though she was long dead, part of her still remained in the entirety of the forest, stronger than anyone could ever begin to imagine, and she had always, in a way, been connected to the woman who sacrificed herself to save her husband and son, and her people as well. After her grandfather passed on, Los' family would finally be on the throne again, with her as queen, and if was through that connection, that she would be able to protect her people, and their forest from harm. Some stranger from another world she had never heard of, claiming he was a god like her, was an insult to more than just her name, and her sacrifice. It was in insult to all the other gods, to Ni'vaa, their creator, the deity that guarded them all throughout time, and would continue to until the world' send, to Nello and Gannon, who lead them here, to the great bird of thunder that flew their skies during storms, and drew the lighting to it's form so the bolts would not crack the many trees, and cause the forest, their only home, to burn, and to all the rest. He had just committed a grave offense in the gardens, amidst the place of their memory, and she wasn't going to ignore it, or let it go, even if it was silly to most. Why couldn't a spider have fallen instead of him? They couldn't insult her people, at least not in a language she understood, and even then, she at least knew how to handle them, and could shove her sword through their miserable hearts without feeling horribly, whereas she could never do that with him, even if she wanted to. The sword against his throat was nothing more than an empty threat, she couldn't harm him, no matter how much he angered her, she just hoped he wouldn't figure that out if he hadn't already. Something told her he was quite clever though, and she had a feeling he'd figure that out rather quick. Brilliant, just brilliant. There was really no hope for her day getting any better, was there?

xxxOnly minutes before, she had been stifling her tears and trying to focus on the forest around her, trying to calm and ease her aching heart, and then he had fallen from out if absolutely no where as she looked up from her attempts to calm, and managed to survive a fall most probably wouldn't. Then, mere moments ago, he spotted her after she had been watching him like a spotted deer standing frozen before they burst into a run, and instantly demanded something from her, and even more recently still, he had shown himself to be incredibly arrogant with a godly title, and caused something within her to snap, and now, after pressing her sword to his throat, he was laughing? Was this man really laughing as with a grin spreading across his features as she had a sword pressed closely to his throat? What sort of insane man had landed before her in the gardens after a blinding light? Was he utterly and completely mad? What kind of madman was he to be laughing in his current situation? She could kill him at any moment, and he was laughing? Laughing of all things? He was amused by this? Had he hit his head while falling? Wouldn't laughing gravely hurt after taking such a terrible fall? Shouldn't he be in pain? Showing signs of hurt from the way his chest shook with a laugh? His armor would bite and dig into his skin when fallen on, she was sure of it, how was he not at the very least wincing? She had heard a pained sound escape him when he first fell, so why was he making none now, surely he had to be feeling something? She really had just been stuck with a deranged madman that fell from the forest air, hadn't she? Or maybe this was actually a dream, or something she was imaging through her pain, and it was she who was going insane? No, for the same reasons as before she knew this to be real, and she hoped this Loki wouldn't notice the bewilderment at his vocalized amusement blossoming on her face. When pressing a sword to someone's neck, giving a threat to maim or kill, the person doing it couldn't look confused and taken aback, it just wouldn't work. You're really laughing right now? When I could kill you if I wanted? She wanted to ask what the hell he found amusing, but she held her tongue. It wasn't the time, and he hadn't even answered her previous question, so why would he answer that? She could guess the reason anyway, either just the absurdity of this all, his own madness, or even her own actions and words. After all, if he thought himself a god, what consequence to him was she if he laughed at her? She would be powerless in comparison to him, right? Heiley knew she should have been offended at that, but presently, she was far too bewildered and angry at him for other things to care about that for the moment. There were more pressing things to uncover right now, and she couldn't let her pride or her confusion rule the moment. The time for that would come later, once they were alone, and after he told her what in the name of everything that had ever existed, was happening, and how he had gotten here, and why he was here to begin with. She could get offended by his rather mad laughter as soon as she knew that, and had a moment alone with him to ask, preferably somewhere most un-amusing so he wouldn't feel the need or desire to laugh at her again.
xxxSteeling her expression again, she narrowed her eyes, and seemingly, just in time, as his amusement didn't seem to end there, even if it had morphed into something parallel, or something new, for after a few more moments as she struggled to rush out more, and a few more outraged words left her lips, it had retuned, and once again she couldn't even begin to believe the absolute gall of this man. Did he not realize she had a sword pressing against his neck? That the only reason it hadn't cut him and caused him to bleed already was a spell from her to dull the edges? And what was he even on about this time? More elves? What by the gods name was he talking about? She wanted to ask him what that was meant to mean, her pride wanted to demand it, even, but she knew that would not help the situation, or get at the answers she wanted far more. More importantly though, she had just told him that he was asking for the grandmother of one of their gods, for her ancestor, and his reaction was a chuckle dripping with three sarcastic words, and, more elves? The first thing he had said since his claim to being a god, and her outraged response, was more elves? What was wrong with this man? Did he really believe he was in the position to be chuckling under his breath while being sarcastic? While admittedly, she couldn't do much damage to him now, mainly because she outright refused to, there were certainly others that could cause him a great deal of issue, and if she let out a scream, or a loud cry or call of any sort, they would be there in mere heartbeats, and he wouldn't be able to be amused by this any longer. Surely, he was intelligent enough to realize that? Or maybe he knew, and was just completely, utterly, hopelessly, insane. That seemed like it could be a possibility, though she didn't want to paint him as that, or even vaguely delusional just yet, no matter how tempting the latter now was. She could tell that he wasn't dumb in the slightest; his aura, while strange, was bright with intelligence, with cleverness, and cunning, and he had an air to him that was quite the opposite of an insane madman laughing in the face of danger. He very well may be exactly that, or at least someone with not much claim to sanity, but there was still something in him very much in control, something someone mad would lack. She couldn't put a word to it yet, but it was there, without a doubt, and it told her that she had to be careful around him, that by no means, should he ever be underestimated. Heiley had seen it in the single moment she had looked to his aura for truth before snuffing the sight of it out, and she knew to listen. Even as he scoffed- but not entirely- at her next set of words, and she watched as his eyes hardened to how they had been before, a grin still graced his lips. He was crazy, that was clear now, but he was also dangerous, and not in the way an unhinged madman with no control, no sense of anything, was. He was exceedingly intelligent, and that could not be ignored.

xxxWhen she introduced herself to him, full title and all, she wasn't sure what exactly from him she was expecting, but she certainly wasn't expecting nothing from him. Granted, given that he had given absolutely no reaction when she told him the woman he was looking for was her ancestor, and the grandmother of one of their gods, their second most central one to be more exact, she shouldn't have been surprised. Despite that though, in a way, it was almost refreshing to have someone not react to her title like she was the most precious thing in the world and should be treated like the most fragile piece of glass to worship, and normally it would have been vastly refreshing, but here, right now, it was no more than a mere almost because she actually wished he would react, instead of seeming to ignore it and her damned altogether. She knew he thought himself a god, and very well may be one in this Asgard he spoke of, so she could see if he was simply unimpressed by it, but she still expected something. Something more than his emerald eyes remaining locked with hers, and the corners of his lips being tugged up ever so slightly harder in his grin, at least. Could he give no reaction at all? If only one to sarcastically humor her? He seemed like someone who would do that, give someone a rather grand and fake reaction to their words. Clearly though, that wasn't what was on his mind, as when he did speak, it wasn't at all about her own boasted titles, and instead, tauntingly asking the obvious. She wanted to roll her eyes and show her frustration at his question, but she didn't, she kept silent, and continued to fix him with a glare of nothing but the purest animosity. She didn't have time or the desire to play into his games and answer questions she was sure he already knew the answer to. She was also tempted to press the blade closer, in hopes it would get him to behave and actually answer something, but she didn't, it wasn't needed, not yet. He continued after a moment, clearly annoyed and ever sarcastic, and this time she didn't hold her tongue. "You're rather brave for a man with a sword against his throat, aren't you?" Heiley questioned with a growl, faintly taunting, her words carrying the edge of a snarl. She watched as his eyes left hers to peer momentarily at their surroundings, before unfortunately promptly returning to her own eyes of hazel. The amusement she saw in them before seemed to be fading though, and she wasn't sure if that meant he was finally coming to his senses, or if it meant something darker from him was coming. If the fun and games for him had left, likely with the realization that Gaethel was not someone he could find, she wasn't quite sure what he would do, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out the extent of what it could be. After an irritated sigh from her a few heartbeats after she spoke, she decided that she might as well respond to his previous ridiculous words. She shifted, and tilted the blade against this throat ever so slightly, so part of it now neared his chin, and would have forced it to raise if she angled it any higher. "But no, I'm not Gaethel, clearly, she died an age ago, before this forest even existed, before we even spoke this tongue. Hardly anyone even knows her name now, and you certainly shouldn't." Heiley told him pointedly, hoping to remind him again that he shouldn't know that name, since obviously, that had not sunk in well enough before. It was no laughing matter, or anything less than severely serious that he knew that name, a name that had been all but lost to all but the last of her family so many centuries ago. She wanted to know how an outsider, someone that had to be from another planet because there was no such thing as an Asgard on her own, knew a name, that her own people, did not. Something was horribly wrong there, terribly un-right, and she wished he would just tell her how he knew that name already rather than completely ignore her and mention her again. She didn't want to play any of his stupid games, or whatever this was, she just wanted to know why he was here and how he knew her name and then she could be rid of him and he could bugger off to who cares where. She had a feeling things wouldn't be that gloriously simple though, and she had no hopes that he would make it easy; he had given her no reasons to assume this would be anything but difficult. At least she could tell his amusement was quickly depleting as it waned, and with it, his patience, which she was able to watch fade from his form. Maybe now, with his patience gone, she would finally get some sort of answer.
xxxOf course, naturally, with her luck, she quickly learned that no answer would at all be given, and really, she should have known that wasn't going to happen before the thought even crossed the forefront of her mind. It was being too generous with this confusing, enraging situation, and with this irritating man who called himself a god.

xxxAs soon as he next opened his mouth, with a shift, she felt her eyes widen and her mouth open in an expression of serious offense at the words of irritation and disdain that left him. Had he really? Did he just- "Heathen? How dare you!" The offense her within her voice was incredibly obvious and strong, and for the briefest of moments, her sword was pressed a fraction closer to his throat. How dare he insult her in such a way? Heathen? Really? She couldn't- he just- urgh! That-that man! First claiming to be a god and now calling her, of all things, a heathen? The nerve of this insufferable man! She was insulted by being called dull too of course, but in comparison to being called a heathen, dull was almost a wonderful compliment, and sometimes, she even wished she was sort of dull, so perhaps, people would leave her be when she needed a moment and didn't ask things of her she couldn't give, or hold ridiculously high expectations over her head that she could never reach, not in a thousand years. Quig was the only one who didn't do that, he knew her limits and her strengths better than she did herself sometimes, and he never asked for more than she could give. This man was not Quig though, clearly, he was Loki, and she could not let herself go soft on him due to thoughts of the only real father figure she had ever really had. She couldn't let him see any softness from her, not yet. At least she didn't have any more moments to possibly slip up on that, because just as her own offended reply had left her lips, he wasted no second in continuing, and her eyes were quickly narrowed in a glare to him again. "If you wish to be called a god in these lands, Loki of Asgard, you must earn it." Heiley reminded coldly, the wild fury returned to her eyes at the repeated claim. He was no god here, especially not in the gardens where her people honored those her were, and she wasn't going to stay silent as he committed such an offense again. What would it take to get her words through his skull, or more rightly put in this situation, his ego? Ignoring the thought for the moment, she continued to listen as he spoke again, and with each one of his words, she felt more and more rage building up inside of her. It was good to know though, that at the very least he didn't wish to be here, so if she was lucky, she wouldn't have to deal with him for much longer. Although, the fact he was sent here to find Gaethel, was more than a little confusing. Who could have known of her, and yet not know that she had died, and where was the person who had known? Were her people in danger? Had he been sent to deliver some sort of threat? Predictably, before she could even ponder that fully, he went on, and out came a demand, a demand to remove her blade so he could get off this "glorious" planet and she could go back to- What? Go back to praying to her beloved statues in peace? Did this man, did he really think that they-that she- Gods give me strength. The fingers on her free hand gave a flick to ward off Shrelen, to tell him that it was not his help she wanted. "We do not pray to our gods, let alone their statues." Heiley snapped as soon as he finished, outrage and offense contorting her features. The elves did not treat their gods like some religion, they didn't pray to them like that, or even worship them in such a way. They honored them, celebrated them, thanked them, and promised to remember them until the end of all their days. It wasn't at all like the praying of a deity in a religion, something her people did not have. It was a rather childish, petty thing to respond to and get upset over, but she didn't care, and besides, she was already well past the point of being proper and reasonable with him. Heiley knew she couldn't just say that though, and ignore the rest of what he said, she had to actually try and sort this out and help this infuriating man, so after a moment of continuing to glare harshly at him and hold onto her resentment a smidge longer, she took a breath to calm, and waited for some of her anger to deflate, and then spoke up. Taking him to her grandfather wouldn't hurt, and right now, was probably the best option they have. "However, if you wish to leave, the most I can do for you is take you to see my grandfather, The King. He'll decide what to do with you, and I don't doubt that throwing you in the dungeons is going to be a very tempting option." Heiley searched his features, waiting for a response, or any sign of one, to show on his handsome face, before the pressure of the blade against his neck lessened, and she glanced downward, toward the ground. She didn't want to, or at all find any liking in the idea, but after a moment of holding his gaze, and fixing him with a firm glare, against her better judgement, she lowered the blade of her sword, and carefully placed it back within it's sheath. Her hand did not leave it's hilt, though; she saw no weapons on his person, but something told her that he was not at all defenseless, or incapable of harming her in some manner while her back was turned, and she knew better than to take that risk. Heiley took a few steps away from him, and then turned half way back to him, a noticeable shift in her demeanor. She kept her gaze forward, or on the ground, and her posture was stiff, nearing vulnerable. Her knuckles grew white with how tightly she gripped the end of her sword. She was calmer now, more cautious. It should have scared her how quickly she seemed to deflate, how quickly her hostility turned into her becoming close to docile, subdued. "You certainly won't find any Gaethel here either, all you'll find of her is dusty books and a grave, which I'm not taking you too. It's a sacred place for us, one you are certainly not welcome in. The best you can do is hope you're not sent to the cells so you can visit the royal library, and find the few ancient books where she's mentioned, or find one of the three people left alive that are descended from her. Out of those three, I am your best option. My mother is not one to take kindly to people like you, and well, my grandmother is not kind in any sense of the word, and she is going to despise you." Heiley let out a soft exhale, and took one final glance at him before speaking again, her brief returning softness quickly fading to irritation. "Now please, just follow me and don't try anything. You're not going to get off this planet if you kill me or anyone else here for that matter. I would love to be rid of you and merely point you in the direction of where to go, but unfortunately, I cannot. Forgive me for not having an ounce of trust in you, and for our rules that forbid outsiders from walking the forest alone." Heiley sounded almost tired amidst her obvious irritation with him now, any hints of the vulnerability she had displayed moments before gone, without a trace. She turned and waved for him to follow, not bothering to look back at him from over her shoulder as she began to walk back along the path that would lead them to the throne room, where her grandfather would be sitting on his throne, presiding over his kingdom.

xxxHeiley quickly quickened her pace to a brisk walk before she had even taken ten steps from the man, and she hoped he could keep up; she wasn't going to slow down or stop and wait for him. Her patience had drained rather suddenly not long ago and she wasn't going to put in the effort to force some patience back into her form because he wanted to be slow and take his sweet time. It wasn't that far, he could manage, and if he was hurting from the fall, well, he had been laughing without any issues, and it's not like walking a little slower would make it hurt any less either. She didn't want him to be in pain, or hurting, but if he wanted to get out of her home, then he would have to endure it at least a little before he got to someone who could look into healing him. If anyone would be allowed to heal him, that is, since she was not sure what order her grandfather would give on that. If he didn't give the man the kindness to allow it, then she would do it herself. That fall had looked sickening, and after surviving it, she knew there had to at the very least be a painful bruise on his person somewhere, and after pretty much instantly pressing a sword to his throat, likely prematurely, it was the least she could do for him, and she just really didn't like the idea if him possibly being in pain. He may annoy her incredibly, and act much like an entitled ruder name for a donkey, but that didn't mean she wanted him to suffer, even if it was only a small pain. It wouldn't be right of her to deny him that if her grandfather denied it first.
xxxWhile she walked, her free hand stretched out to brush along the flora that adorned the sides of the path, the fingertips of her outstretched hand delicately flitting over leaves of ferns and grand flowers, and tall, speedily growing bushes in need of the gardener's expert trim. The leaves were soft beneath the touch of her skin, and the flower petals they caressed were even softer still. Flowers had a very specific to them, one that could be copied or mimicked by nothing else, and she liked the feel of them; they helped her to forget her situation, and the man who was hopefully still following her. She wasn't going to look back and see if Loki still was, though she knew she should, so she didn't unleash his un-contained chaos onto the rest of her people. She still wasn't going to look back however, right now, she really didn't want to see his face, or his green eyes, the color of glistening emeralds, or his mid length dark hair, still somewhat wild and unkempt from his fall, that made him look far more dashing than a man who had fallen from the damned sky out of nowhere should. He was irritating, but she could not at all deny that he looked far beyond just good, and she hated that that was what her mind jumped to the moment she had turned away from him and was trying to ignore his existence as she lead him to her grandfather, King Vanduurin. No, Heiley. Do not think of him like that, he's insufferable, it doesn't matter that he's handso- Stop it, no! Do not think of him like that! Silently, she shook her head to rid herself of such-such- well, such thoughts, and focused her attention again on the path she was traveling. She- or well, hopefully they- had already made it to the garden's end, the soft, nearly silent sound of her boots against moss covered stone no longer present, and now it was time to step onto the stairwell that led to the throne room where her grandfather would be seated. The shape of the stairwell formed an x of sorts, with the upper half above the flat space that allowed on to enter the throne room, wrapping around the great Tree of Los in an elegant spiral going upwards, and the lower half simply providing two options to enter, a left side, and a right side. There were many paths leading to both sets of stairs; paths from the other trees that held the platforms of their raised home, paths from other places of importance like the gardens, and the trails they needed to use, and a larger central path they all parted from that lead out of the forest, that also branched off to wrap around the tree and head towards the other way out of the forest, the great river that lead to the Grotto. Those paths didn't matter now though, she wouldn't be taking Loki there, so with a shaking deep breath, she took the first step onto the stairwell on the right, and felt as her still outstretched hand touched the silver of the railing, the metal smooth to the touch, but possessing a biting cold. She let her thumb trail along the patterned side as she climbed the few steps, feeling the convoluted swirls that ran all along it, and finally the thicker, even more intricate patterns of the taller post's cap that signaled the stairs were done, and the railing had changed to wrap around the flat area, and then around to the other mirrored side of stairs. Her hand fell back to her side then, the coldness of the metal lingering on her skin, and after stepping toward the doors, she finally turned back to look at the man she had lead here. She was realized to see that he hadn't run off and disappeared while she was determined not to check. Now that she thought about it, it had been really stupid of her not to look back at least once to see. It was too late to get upset with herself about that though, they were here, and it was time to go in. Her free hand was pressed flatly to the large wooden doors, the patterns adoring it pressing into her skin, but before she pushed it open. She turned to him again, a slight frown upon her features. She didn't like it, but her nerves were beginning to make themselves known. She was likely about to see her father again, even if it was only through the resembling features of his father, and Heiley wasn't sure if she was ready for that. "Word of advice, do not act like you are a god entitled to everything here if you wish to leave so badly. My grandfather is not one who responds well to people who proclaim themselves to be gods. Treat him with respect, I'd really not like to see you killed, or thrown in our prisons. It's a horrible place, filled with only the worst beings to exist, and you haven't shown yourself to be worthy of that, yet." Heiley warned, watching him carefully. She didn't know whether it was her distaste for anyone being killed, or harmed, or if it was that there was something special about him, about this confusing arrogant man, but she didn't want to see him hurt, let alone put to death or sent to their dungeons with monsters who deserved no kindnesses anymore. He wasn't a monster, he wasn't without humanity, and he didn't deserve to join them. A tiny, growing part of her wanted to know more about him too, to learn of this Asgard, of him, and of what happened, though, she would never admit it, and if he caught on that she did, she would deny it in a heartbeat. With the end of her words though, she turned back to the door, and carefully pushed it forward, opening it, and slipping inside, her hand moving in another motion for him to follow.

xxx"Grandfather, I-" A hand flew to her mouth as soon as she caught sight of the scene unfolding before her, only just barely managing to stifle a sudden laugh that wished to escape her throat. What was happening? What had they just walked into? There were guards scurrying all throughout the throne room in some sort of panic like mice, and she could see her family, and the esteemed royal advisor- that was really no more than a man who gave advice when he was not acting as her babysitter and tutor-, Wagstaff, all hurriedly speaking, and looking rather frantic and more than a little worried, their composure gone. Her parents stood by each other, Madrion's hands behind his back, and Caewin's at her front, and her uncle stood on the opposite side of her Grandfather, one hand on the sword at his waist, calling out orders to his guards as they ran around them, looking tired, and worried as well. Her grandmother was standing at a seemingly very specific part of the room, yelling something to her grandfather, while gesturing wildly to where she stood. What had happened? And what was going on? It had to be serious if her grandmother was here, she was never in the same room as Cadhrion, let alone in a meeting with her family. She had never once imagined that she would see this. She never once thought she would see them all frantic and the opposite of composed. The moment her voice reached their ears though, everyone in the room froze, and turned toward her, eyes wide, immediately falling silent. She felt a laugh rising in her throat again, at the sight of them all looking so startled and as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't, but then she met her father's cold eyes from across the room, and any amusement donning her features promptly faded. He was the last person she wanted to see, and with the sight of him, all of the pain he had brought her so recently began to resurface, and caused her face to fall. Heiley just hoped that Loki wouldn't notice, he didn't seem to be the type to let such a thing go. Her grandfather stood, and fixed her with narrowed eyes. She watched her grandmother gracefully move to stand beside her daughter, Heiley's mother, but not before letting something elegantly roll from her hand to mark the spot. What was so special about that place? What had happened?
xxx"Heiley, what is the meaning of this? Where have you been? We are in a state of emergency! If you do not drain to grace us with your presence during a meeting, then you should know better than to interrupt after running off somewhere. Unless you have any information for us of a woman from a place called Asgard speaking of a debt to Gaethel, and a blinding light in the sky, I am going to have to ask you to leave." Vanduurin wasted no time in chastising her with his words, and immediately, she wished she had never come, never taken him here. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at his words, and bite down the temptation to tell her grandfather to ask his son about that, after all it was his fault she had fled to the gardens and was in them to begin with, and she knew that he knew exactly what he had done. That was one of the main problems, that knowing; he always knew, yet he never did anything to fix how despicable a father he was, despite knowing full well he was terrible. He knew, and he did nothing. There were few things more painful than that, knowing that her own father really didn't care about her at all unless she was of some use to him, and she hated that this infuriating newcomer, this stranger to the forest, could see that clear as day, if he only looked at the glare passed between father and child. Even her mother, Caewin, looked displeased with her, but thankfully, her attention was more so on the strange man standing with their princess, like the eyes of most everyone else in the room, who were still, for the most part, frozen, although slowly clearing out from the center, to allow the king, and his granddaughter, and the strange man with her speak without them in the way.
xxxShe kept her lips pressed together in a line, trying not to show how angry she was with his words in front of her father, and the man who had fallen from a light in the sky. "The source of that light is beside me, Grandfather, he fell from it, asking for Gaethel, and saying he was sent to find her." Heiley informed him, her expression cold and hardened, her form unmoving as she watched him with narrowed eyes. She tried to keep her voice as emotionless as possible, but she knew that some of her hurt bitterness managed to slip through, and she could tell that her father had noticed. Vanduurin's eyes appeared confused for a split second, before he finally noticed the irritating man she had brought with her for the first time, and quickly rounded on him instead. Before completely rounding on Loki though, he fixed her with a hard look that said "i'll deal with you later,", and then turned his attention fully back to the man he now harshly glared at in ways only a king really could. She felt herself swallow, and her heart fell.
xxx"Who are you, and how do you know of that name? Are you this Prince Loki, of Asgard? Why have you come to our forest? Do you know of the message we were sent?" Vanduurin asked, his voice booming, and commanding, like that of a king's should be. If she hadn't just seen them all running around and speaking like panicked creatures, she wouldn't have believed for a second that it had ever happened with the way his voice sounded, and how quickly his composure, minus his present anger, returned. Heiley frowned at his words, and her hazel eyes quickly shot to Loki. Prince? He had said nothing of being a prince to her when he introduced himself. Why had he neglected to tell her of that when he had boasted of being a god? So not only was he a god, he was a prince as well? Wonderful, simply wonderful. She would have to ask him about that later, regardless of his fate, though for now she held her tongue. She had her turn to speak, and now it was his. She stepped to the side, and watched the taller man, her eyes faintly softer than they had been toward him before. It was out of her hands, and she could only hope that he wouldn't anger the elven king too much; she hadn't been lying when she had told him she didn't want to see him killed or imprisoned. She, without wanting to ever admit it, wanted to know him more, and it would be a horrible shame if that chance was snuffed out now.

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