The Fall
Torn
His head aches.
There are memories - not his own - of small, furry animals and a red-lipsticked smile. There's a dark haired boy with green eyes and a snub nose who steals Loki's toy from his hand, a midgardian toy, and the light scolding of tall man with greying hair. A white board with words scrawled upon it, his name on a yellow sheet and the laughs of a girl who looked like she had enjoyed more than one asgardian feast in her time.
He fought these back with the jeers of the Warriors Three, the sight of Sif's hair falling from his hands, his false father's - Odin's - words of disapproval and the royal with the dull eyes hissing that Loki was never ever going to be king. He recalls the skin slipping gently from the royals flesh and the growls of Fenris as the royal reached towards Loki - hands curling at the last minute, his nails flaking off into tiny, little pieces.
Loki smiles.
Though his head still aches with the recollections of two lives, Loki presses down the unfamiliar street and towards a tall tower that's vaguely memorable to him - though with the fog of misgardian memories he fails to remember how the imposing tower strikes a chord with him. There's much about the human world that is similar, he reminds himself, like the houses and the trees - the pattern of life repeated again and again to fill mortal rock with monotonous life, and that a building on one hemisphere could be identical to another based elsewhere. Perhaps he had stumbled upon this building before - trips to earth were few since the humans took the Gods as myth - yet in the last few centuries Loki had visited it more than he cared for.
He frowned to himself and touched his hand to the light stone of a nearby wall, feeling it's grainy texture and squeezing his eyes against the onslaught of ringing, childish laughter that arose from the thought of sand; his - no - the implanted memory of a midgardian family echoed a golden beach, reminiscent of the purity of Asgard, and a deep sea, almost as blue as Thor's eyes, which hungrily pulled in grain after grain of glowing sand.
The waves were almost audible.
"Loki?"
There are memories - not his own - of small, furry animals and a red-lipsticked smile. There's a dark haired boy with green eyes and a snub nose who steals Loki's toy from his hand, a midgardian toy, and the light scolding of tall man with greying hair. A white board with words scrawled upon it, his name on a yellow sheet and the laughs of a girl who looked like she had enjoyed more than one asgardian feast in her time.
He fought these back with the jeers of the Warriors Three, the sight of Sif's hair falling from his hands, his false father's - Odin's - words of disapproval and the royal with the dull eyes hissing that Loki was never ever going to be king. He recalls the skin slipping gently from the royals flesh and the growls of Fenris as the royal reached towards Loki - hands curling at the last minute, his nails flaking off into tiny, little pieces.
Loki smiles.
Though his head still aches with the recollections of two lives, Loki presses down the unfamiliar street and towards a tall tower that's vaguely memorable to him - though with the fog of misgardian memories he fails to remember how the imposing tower strikes a chord with him. There's much about the human world that is similar, he reminds himself, like the houses and the trees - the pattern of life repeated again and again to fill mortal rock with monotonous life, and that a building on one hemisphere could be identical to another based elsewhere. Perhaps he had stumbled upon this building before - trips to earth were few since the humans took the Gods as myth - yet in the last few centuries Loki had visited it more than he cared for.
He frowned to himself and touched his hand to the light stone of a nearby wall, feeling it's grainy texture and squeezing his eyes against the onslaught of ringing, childish laughter that arose from the thought of sand; his - no - the implanted memory of a midgardian family echoed a golden beach, reminiscent of the purity of Asgard, and a deep sea, almost as blue as Thor's eyes, which hungrily pulled in grain after grain of glowing sand.
The waves were almost audible.
"Loki?"
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I'm not used to writing chapters longer than a few paragraphs and im trying to get like more than a page on Word so bear w/ chapters should get longeralso my fan tumblr for fandom stuff cute