Loki peers with fierce scrutiny into Sigyn’s features, as if doing so will be akin to searching a book with fine small print for clues to solve a profound mystery.
“Have I upset you in word or deed?”
Sigyn has made no intimation whatsoever of this being the case, and yet Loki is poised, always, with all people, even trusted companions, to be blamed for some atrocity or another.
Sigyn looks surprised at the question, then shakes her head. It is so like her Loki to immediately jump to such a conclusion, and it breaks her heart a little. She immediately tries to put him at ease, reaching up to brush her fingers against his hollow cheek.
“No, my love, it is not you at all. It is a matter regarding some of the families of some of our patients at the Temple. They do not understand the techniques we use to heal the mind, and it has been very frustrating. They do not know better, but even so, how long can I tolerate such ignorance?!” She leans into his shoulder, her hands now clenched into fists, then slowly begins to relax.
He turns to her alarmingly sharply. The frigid wrath in his eyes, she will know, is aimed at the body of repulsive individuals of whom she complains.
“Cut them off,” he more mandates than suggests. Her touch does not quell his temper this time; Loki is never so obvious with his affection than when he is defending someone he loves who is softer and more trusting than himself. “At the knees. Spread confidential information about their personal lives. Ridicule them into shutting up, and I shall personally ensure that they cease obstructing your most worthy cause, if that does not suffice.”
Loki peers with fierce scrutiny into Sigyn’s features, as if doing so will be akin to searching a book with fine small print for clues to solve a profound mystery.
“Have I upset you in word or deed?”
Sigyn has made no intimation whatsoever of this being the case, and yet Loki is poised, always, with all people, even trusted companions, to be blamed for some atrocity or another.
There’s a knowing smirk in Loki’s voice, as he stands before the fountain in the Temple of Asgard so beloved of his mother. Snowy lithe fingers conjure water serpents, and send them in elegant rhythms back into the crystal liquid that bore them. He waits for her to admit that she has been spying on him.
Loki gnaws quietly on his lip as Sigyn procures the paint pigment that remains from their wedding. How well he remembers each cherished moment passed in the cool caves of her ancestors, lit only by torches, the warm womblike silence broken only by his sisters in law, his father in law, and his brother reciting gentle admonitions to fealty and devotion, all of them barefoot, framed in flowers. That part of their wedding, the Vanic procession, was his favorite of moments.
He huffs a brief breathy laugh as Narvi dabbles him in indigo. In affectionate retaliation, the God of Mischief rubs the tip of his nose briskly all over Narvi’s cheek, with a soft mother-wolf growl.
As Narvi exacts his handiwork across Sigyn’s belly, Loki’s eyes grow distant, and he idly wonders whether coming from the same womb as Thor might have somehow earned the praise of the Norns, and spared the pair of royal siblings some of their long strife.
Such melancholy thoughts are banished, however, when Narvi kisses Sigyn’s navel. Loki crawls over to his wife’s swollen midriff and, careful not to disturb any of his eldest son’s work, paints a clear little Wendhorn rune, of protection and health, in the center of its rounded curve. He smiles up at Sigyn slowly, then, with a kiss, his lips are also blue.
Send ✄ for your muse to catch my muse in the middle of killing someone.
She lifts her hands from the neck of the man in whose lap she perches. Endless white thighs flex as she stands with a frigid composure, though her fingers, soaked in blood from a surgically precise knife laceration to the throat, tremble.
“I know how you loathe violence,” she pants, short of breath, “but this man insulted your honor. Called you my unthinking, brainwashed whore. And then, when he saw me, and did not recognize his KING in this form, he threatened to force himself on me. So I gave him what he wanted. At first.”
Loki turns a quaking, twisted leer on her wife.
“It wasn’t my fault he didn’t specify whether or not he wanted to live. His hand wasn’t halfway up my skirts before he was d e a d .”
Loki hastily squats down in the water, with a feigned expression of offense; it’s certainly not his fault that regarding his wife enteringthe lake utterly nude aroused him.
“There’s no need to drive me madder still,” he growls, around a lupine grin.
Sigyn threw her head back with a laugh, her radiant hair tousled in long flaming curls around her shoulders and falling well past her waist. She continued to stride towards her husband, deliberately emphasizing the sway of her generous hips and causing great ripples in the water as she moved. Reaching Loki, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips a mere breath away from his.
“Believe me, there is every need!”
She quickly brings him into a kiss before pulling them both under the water’s surface.
icyxmischief 