Loki was seething. Which, in the long run, was quite a bit better than the mad fury he had been some time earlier. There never really was any calming Loki down [ not successfully, anyway ], and society was all too lucky that the God of Mischief had found himself in an unceremonious heap out in the middle of nowhere. Or, had he known better, in the lovely state of New Mexico. As higher powers would have it, Loki was no more than a mile away or so from the very site that a movie dedicated to his quite accurately depicted story was. "The Avengers", as millions of anticipating fans knew it to be, a movie the actors were all to happy to be participating in.
Collecting himself from the ground, it took a moment for Loki to gather his wits around him, he was lucky every limb and cell had stayed intact during the brutal fall through space from the Bifrost. The ravenette was not likely to ever forget the day he'd been tossed away into oblivion, while his gleaming golden brother received what he was always denied; priority. And, as Odin would have it for his favored son, Loki was saved second. Or, rather, denied the second chance to even be saved. Snarling angrily, he ran a hand through his long dark hair, feeling it spike up at the ends in his trademark hairstyle. Had he actually fallen into the set of The Avengers, all would have mistaken him for the actor playing him, but never the true god they sought to portray.
Brushing dirt from his leather pants and the front of his armor, sparking green magic twisting in a very viper-esque fashion around his right hand until there was a gleaming scepter grasped firmly in his slender fingers. Drawing upon his magic [ which had fortunately been spared from tampering ], the god decided he would travel further out, perhaps a mile? Yes, he could sense nothing more in this barren wasteland, merely mesas and scraggly bushes, with cactus spiking stoutly from the parched earth. And just like that, he was gone, searching as he travelled for anything, and what drew him was an enormous swell of bustling, lights, electricity, and Midgardian fleas. Like a moth to a flame, Loki reappeared, just outside the area where they were currently filming, bright lights of varying hues focused on one spot. Curiosity managing to get the upper hand, Loki drew closer, hidden by the shadows of the night. Brow furrowing, he glanced upwards, spotting ramparts where he could achieve a bird's-eye view of the gathering.
Once more he travelled as it was nothing, appearing, and still veiled in shadows. What he saw spiked a sort of unbridled venom in his eyes, anger causing the god to crush the metal of the railing beneath him. Captured in his steely gaze were doppelgängers of all those he despised most. What caught his eye specifically, out of them all; was himself. How DARE that insignificant whelp take on his very likeness, parading it about? Gritting his teeth, Loki vowed to destroy the mortal, no matter what means necessary.
Tom woke up that morning, somewhat empty. He didn't know why, but he had had a dream about his last movie again. About him falling off of the Bifrost. Again. He hated that, it scared him too much. Sighing, he got out of bed and began to prepare for his newest torture. Playing the man in his dreams. Like he could ever compare. And it was horrible when he looked in a mirror, only to realize it was just him. Pretending.
He made it into the hair and makeup trailer, and let them fiddle with him, destroying Tom, and putting an angry bitter Loki in his place… He wanted to cry. He wished he could hug the Loki he had to play, but instead he had to be him. Suddenly he wished he had refused to play him in Thor and in the Avengers, but it was immediately followed by guilt. How else would he have come to know so much about this man?
They suited him up, had him drink lots of water, and set the giant helm on his head. He looked into the mirror, glaring at himself, seeing only Loki in his stead. The hairdresser giggled. "Wow, you really /are/ Loki." He couldn't help but glare at her, not having to force himself into that mask. "How dare you, you pathetic mortal? Kneel before me!" She laughed, and did as he asked. He felt himself soften a bit. "Thanks," he muttered before leaving the trailer.
They had just gotten to the part where he was climbing in the back of the car, and Tom could already feel the heat. It was late in the day, the heat was not as intense, but damn if this outfit wasn't heavy and hot. No wonder they had him drinking so much. As he clambered into the back of the car for the third time, he let his exhaustion show. At the end of the clip, Whedon stood and clapped. "There ya go, Tom! Perfect! Keep that up!" He smiled wearily as they let him down for another break, mopping his brow and giving him more water. As he was sipping from the bottle, he looked up. And nearly choked.
He was there! Right there! Up in one of the rafters! He froze as he stared. He couldn't be seeing things. There he was, Loki, the god, the real one. He looked absolutely homicidal as he glared at Tom. But gods did Tom stare back. He was beautiful. Better than he had thought, and eerily like him. He quickly finished with the helpers, saying he wanted to go for a bit of a walk higher up to get a bit of fresh air, and climbed up the rafters.
The human Loki saw coming from somewhere inside this deep establishment to be out in the open held such an unsettling likeness to the true god. Even the way he strode, the way he held himself was nearly identical to the true "character". Observing quietly, his jaw clenched as he watched on. That voice, though, when it was speaking, mimicking him, it sounded true. How could this possibly be? It did not seem to be the work of any magic; Midgard was far too primitive to handle anything of the sort. Nor was it any sort of higher science, you could not make such exact replicas of anyone, especially someone they hadn't the foggiest idea existed in real life. Even his bloody /helm/ had been replicated! [not quite as radiant, but they were simply mortals, after all ]. The railing beneath his hands was bent even further by just a taste of his explosive rage, making the metal look like a spine riddled with an appalling case of scoliosis.
The only thing to console Loki on some level now was their actions. They were...playing out scenes, he assumed, that had never happened to the god...Yet. As he watched on, the trickster couldn't help but be more intrigued than he'd like to admit. Half absorbed in it all, he mulled over what in the nine realms could be the purpose for it all, but all be damned if he didn't make sure he found out. Observing carefully, his vivid green eyes swept over the set, and another strike of luck for everyone else that the actor who played Thor was absent this time, or Loki's general rage would've caused him to slaughter the man. Watching people flood out to crowd around the actor below guides guises as him, he heard snippets of words, gathering from it all that they were finished for the day. Perhaps he would have to pay the insolent man a visi- Their eyes met, and he glared down at him, knowing that nobody else had been keen enough to spot him so high up in the rafters like he was. Looked like there would be a slight change of plans, then.
Looking dangerously predatory as Tom scaled the rafters carefully, Loki was tempted to rush forward and grab the man by his throat, flinging him to his death on the pavement and dirt below. Despite all that, something stopped him. The mortal seemed so...so entranced by the sight of the god, as of he truly knew who he was, as if he was all too excited to be in the villain's presence. Only later would he find out that it was all too true. Brows furrowing, he drew away from the crumpled steel railing, hands clasping behind his back as he took a step closer to the actor, observing that his face was startlingly handsome. No. /no/, it was not the time or situation for thoughts like that. Regaining his cold composure, Loki spoke, voice almost exactly like that of Tom's when in character. "And what mockery do you seek to pull, mortal, while dressed in my exact likeness?" he hissed, pinning him with his green stare.
Tom forced himself to stand tall, rather than throw himself at the god's feet like he wanted. He looked him up and down. He really was almost exactly like him… It was amazing, and oh so satisfying to know that he was not destroying his image. It was wonderful to actually see him, to know he exists…. He couldn't help but smile softly. "So it is you." He looked at the rail, wanting to laugh at its predicament.
He slowly took off his helm, brushing his hair back, wiping away his sweat as best as he could, before placing it on the floor between them. "I believe this is yours. Though, I doubt you'd want this one, it's rather hot and sweaty right now…" He chuckled softly before looking up at him.
"I do not mock you, my lord. In fact, I'm one of the few who looks up to you…" he smiled reassuringly at him, raising his hands in surrender. "I am simply following my orders. You see, here, we are trying to emulate your stories through acting, and we will make a moving picture out of it, where it looks like I am you… I must say, I'm relieved to see that I'm doing you justisce…"
Loki still refused to let his hard, cold gaze falter, even a bit, all the while observing him carefully, noticing every bit and detail altered in his likeness. They had done an admittedly good job, and had his mind not been occupied by other things with slightly more priority, he would have been unnerved himself. There was no time for that now, though, if the mortal were to shout down and inform all the others that he was here, it would eventually blow up into something that would turn bad for the godling. Because, eventually, the news would find its way to Asgard, and his oaf of a brother Thor would decide to step in as the noble hero he'd been tricked into believing to be and attempt saving his dear brother. If that were to happen, Loki would not be able to handle it. Not without an enormous battle, foolish amounts of resistance, and earth-wrenching magic. If that was the way it had to be, then so be it. This was not his home planet, and he would not treat it as such.
Gaze flitting up to meet with those bright, blue-green eyes, he finally realized the man had said something, smiling as if this was no dangerous feat to be in a temperamental Norse god's midst. That aside, he found the very words Tom had spoken curious in themselves. "Of course it is." He answered in a sort of snappish manner, who else would he be? Watching as the lanky man took apart the helmet and drew it away from his head [ only to reveal inky black locks in the exact likeness of his own ], he gave it a rather condescending look. At least his helmet always stayed in one piece, but, granted, Tom wore it rather well. Eying it for a few moments, he said nothing, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. "Keep it. I am capable of summoning my original helm at whim," he murmured now, tone not quite as edgy now.
Surprise now infiltrated his green eyes, half-wondering if Tom was actually being sincere to his word. "It will do you no good to have me as a role model," Loki spoke, turning his head to look out into the desert expanse, now dark in the night. Turning back almost abruptly, his eyes narrowed. "Doing me justice? Justice is one thing I have yet to experience from anyone." the god spoke through gritted teeth, licking his lips after he spoke. "I cannot waste anymore of my time here, this location is far too conspicuous."
Tom looked at the helm, frowning slightly as it broke apart. Why couldn't it have done that hours ago? But he snapped his head up at the next words. "Role model?" Gods, his voice…. It was mesmerizing. "N-no, you're more than that…"
He stepped forward slowly, carefully, as if afraid to scare him. "I know. And… I wish I could give it to you. I wish I could give you everything… So, come back home with me. To the hotel. Stay there tonight." He smiled soothingly. "Please? It would be my honor. I would love to hear what you've really been up to…" He held out his hand. "You can hide, and when you get there, you can change into some more inconspicuous clothing, bathe, and we can go get you something to eat. You look a bit beat up…"