Eyes gazing down at the words composed into the aged pages of the book, right hand supporting the cover of the book while the pointer finger of
his left hand scanned the words, hovering above, barely touching the paper, walking around the small circular room in slow steps, deep in
concentration. The green of his mantle changing shades as he walked past windows, the morning sun dancing light upon the silver horns of his
helmet.
This was a typical day. The God of Mischief reading myths and legends that were said to be true, and occasionally filling his head with stories
on the many wars between the Asgardians and the Frost Giants. Lesilia Frostte sat cross-legged on the red-carpeted floor, back against the shelves that
covered every inch of wall, as she stared at the black sword in her hands, watching in her panoramic vision the way he ceased to blink until turning a
new page, careful not to break his train of thought.
Some people thought him a monster, some a troublesome little brother to the mighty god of thunder and some even saw him as the cause for
Dystopia, which, for Lesilia, made very little sense for this God before her was the impeccable example for one word, perfect. Lesilia never fancied the
feeling of admiration, for all knew that the emotion 'admiration' was related to 'love', and all knew that the moment you 'love' someone, the world has
something to hold against you. Admiration often had to be earned, unless a certain God had a certain air about him that made you want to be his pet
and follow in his steps, well… not much follow, but guide. To help this man that has so much potential to be something great, and boy, did he know it,
he never tried to be modest about it either, instead he preferred to brag, not all the time, but certainly when his brother was around to give him the
look of disgust at every word that came out of Loki's mouth. His brother, Thor - ah yes; now…Thor was every typical Asgardian teenager's dream guy,
and I'm not only talking about the females here. Justice and Biceps were written all over the man. A Hero he is, loved by all, protected by all, talked
about by all! But there is one flaw about him, and that is the amount of 'Kindness' that oozes like a physical substance from the man, overflowing
every room he walks into, suffocating the air from your lungs by his very presence, making you feel guilt and shame for being weaker than this man
before you, for having to be protected - and Lesilia was not a girl that would tolerate the feeling of subordination and weakness.
Lesilia looked up from her sword as Loki's pointer-finger stopped the continuous scan of words in the middle of a page. He looked up from the
book, neck straightening as his unfocused blue eyes softened to a thoughtful distant gaze.
"Nobody is perfect" he whispered distastefully to himself, trying to make sense out of the expression. His eyes focused back on the book, "What are
your thoughts on the phrase?" he asked Lesilia, who kept her gaze fixated on him.
"The only thoughts I possess are ones on important matters" He raised his eyebrows in inclination to carry on.
Lesilia sighed, and did as she was forbid,
"The expression "Nobody is perfect" is merely an opinion, some unimaginative individual has not their own definition of the word 'perfect' therefor
came to the simple conclusion that perfection doesn't exist."
"And what may your definition of the word be?" he questioned, curiosity in his voice.
"Imperfection is my perfection My Lord, I have come to believe that making mistakes is inevitable, and with every mistake you are learning,
improving, but perfection does not improve, it cannot. Therefore, as long as mistakes are made and you acknowledge the experience, whether good
or bad, then you are perfect."
Lesilia got up off the floor as she became aware it was time to escort Loki back to his room. She sheathed her sword as she blew her brown,
long, wavy hair out of her face. Loki closed the book with one hand, not bothering to note the page and asked yet another question that was barely
audible.
"Have you made mistakes?" He looked down at the book as if studying the blank cover proved to be entertaining.
"Enough to last me a lifetime" She replied.
"Bad ones?"
"Yes My lord, but all I regret"
He grinned, hearing the lie.
" Forgive me, I find that hard to believe" He chuckled, turning to face me "You are a Infans de Vashta after all."
Lesilia smiled, "And you are a Frost Giant with a characteristic desire to create havoc. I hardly think we're too dissimilar."
Loki gave a slight shrug as if to admit defeat as Lesilia opened the door leading out into the hall.