eswareinmal | (no subject)

Characters: Loki
Open?: Yes!
Where: Outside Schwanheim
When: 6th of Rebirth's Height
Warnings: Aaaaaaangst.

He hasn't looked into that dread mirror since the return back. Buried it at the bottom of a chest, under the robes he had been given, and swept outside, to the sky and the breeze and the grass. He climbed a hill, and he was too warm, but he savored it. Savored the overheat of his skin, the dry lack of sweat, the burn of thirst in his throat.

He settles down on the grass, under the burning sun, and tries to keep his mind away from anything having to do with ice.

But it returns there, as it always does. He can almost taste the power of the Bifrost, feel the thrum of uncontrollable energies directed by his own hand. He can close his eyes and imagine the terror and chaos as Jotunheimr falls.

He can remember the surge of sick satisfaction -- one backhand, and Thor went flying and he thought this is the end to all my troubles and he didn't watch as his brother bled out into the dirt.

The truth.

The truth is that Loki was never meant to be a hero. He was always meant to be the monster.

Loki buries his face in his folded arms. He is empty enough that he is unsurprised when the tears do not come.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hawk watched with amusement. "Looks like he's showing off."

Loki was none so eager to return to form. To return to anything more approximating the visage of a Frost Giant. So he stretched for his magic, painful-distant though it may be, and transmuted black to brown.

Now he was a hawk.

Faolan pulled back, nose wrinkling, and looked up at Hawk in confusion. Then he looked back at Loki, reaching a wary hand out to touch him.

Hawk nodded slightly at the transformation. "He was referring to me," he returned, still a touch amused, guessing that the not-really-a bird had been offended at the wrong label. "Hawk is my name."

Loki considered this, for a moment, and then accepted the explanation. The feathers flitted and shifted and settled back into the black-and-white form. And the bird relaxed, as though holding the other had been a strain. He nodded, primly.

That was all? Faolan reached out more surely, wanting to cuddle the bird and reassure him. Especially since he had been unhappy before.

"So I take it you're not normally a bird, huh?" Hawk asked idly, shifting to sit Indian style on the ground to watch.

Loki folded his wings and relented to the petting. Perhaps even hopped a little closer to Faolan, though still with a beady on Hawk.

He couldn't really nod or shake his head to that one.

Faolan pet him carefully, smiling again because Loki was responsive and moving closer. He flopped on his belly, and turned to Hawk.

"Loki looks human."

"Human, huh? Gotta be careful around those," Hawk commented idly, watching the play time with a bit of a fond look, rather glad Faolan had found someone to play with.

Looks human being the key word there. He wasn't. He never would be.

Loki fluttered up and landed on Faolan's back. Pecked at him, around his ribs.

He might be looking for ticklish spots.

Faolan looked up at Hawk. "Said looks human, not is human."

He twisted his head around, trying to see Loki without knocking him off. This didn't work so well, as he automatically rolled when tickled, giggled exploding out of him.

"Those are just as bad," Hawk returned dryly, but he still smiled just a bit at the display below.

Never fear; Loki's reflexes are quite good, and he hops straight up, landing back down on the pit of Faolan's chest.

There's a little bit of a prim, triumphant look to him.

Faolan grins, wrapping his arms around the bird and nuzzling against his beak.

He looked up at Hawk. "Faolan looks human," he pointed out.

"So does Aralu," Hawk returned. "Just because someone looks human doesn't mean you should trust them. Same for things that don't look human. You don't trust anyone until you know you can get the upper hand on them."

And now, Loki watched Hawk, carefully, cautiously.

Sound advice, of course, in a practical sense. But he was not so sure he liked hearing it from another's lips. What if the boy was poisoned against him? -- Loki was not the sort who could be controlled.

"Yes, Hawk," Faolan answered automatically. Holding the Loki bird carefully, the boy rolled over to be resting against Hawk's side.

He placed Loki on his feet in front of him, and regarded him for a long moment. "Loki feeling better?"

Hawk reached out to ruffle Faolan's hair fondly once he was in range, staying quiet and watching his adopted son and his new friend.

And, with a rush, Loki remembered.

Why he had been on this hilltop -- of course.

The leaching ugliness of algae and scum may still grow in the lighthearted flow of a brook, Loki finds, as the darkness in his heart surges again.

He is fond of the boy, now. So he will go.

His wings spread -- a feather-rustle, and he is in the sky, wild and high until the two figures dwindle to dots on the grass. ]

Faolan scrambled to his feet, reaching up to Loki's retreating form. He had obviously done something wrong.

"Loki!" he shouted. "Come back! Faolan is sorry!"

After a moment, he collapsed into Hawk's lap, whimpering.

Hawk mussed his hair gently. "You didn't do anything wrong, don't worry. People sometimes just want to be alone," he explained, voice quiet and oddly soft.