It's actually 500 words. Jiraiya is loosely in Thor's role, Orochimaru in Loki's. Let me know what you think!
Jiraiya couldn't believe his eyes. Standing before him, haggard and weary and alive, was the man he watched die. The man who's existence faded away until there was nothing left. Nothing but the memories he held. Some memories he cherished, others he wanted to banish, but memories all the same.
He should be surprised, but he wasn't. God of trickery and mischief, Orochimaru was always taunting, always playing. Standing there, whole and healthy and breathing, it seemed to be yet another prank the man wished to play.
"What do you want?" he finally asked, waiting for the blow he knew was coming. Orochimaru was far too cunning, far too vengeful not to issue another lash amongst the hundreds he'd already laid. What was one more over a multitude of scars?
"Is that how you greet an old friend?" came an answering hiss.
What a line. It almost hit its mark. Too bad its mark had withered and hardened and was much harder to find than that. "You made it quite clear you were never a friend."
Amber eyes flashed and Jiraiya wondered if he had delivered a lash of his own. It would be a first.
"Then how about an old teammate?"
Another attempt, still failing. "One has to know how to work as a team to be a part of it."
Another flash, almost akin to a flinch. What happened during his time dead to revive the semblance of a heart Jiraiya once thought he had?
"Is that what you think of our history? That you can simply erase it through mere word?"
"It worked well for you." This barb intentional, finding the churning anger that always burned deep since Orochimaru's betrayal. Jiraiya felt sick satisfaction to see that gaze flinch again. "I'm merely accepting what you claimed to be true; that we weren't teammates, that we were never friends. That you were only biding your time long enough to get what you wanted."
Silence stretched between them. Orochimaru shifted, obviously unsettled, but Jiraiya held firm. Here was a man he'd lost over and over and over again. It was a lesson he learned once, if not a thousand times, and Jiraiya wasn't about to let his own misguided hope set him up for betrayal again.
"I'll ask you again. What do you want?"
"What I've always wanted."
Absolute power. Absolute control. Absolute reverence.
"Pick something different. You're not getting that."
Orochimaru's brows furrowed in annoyance and if Jiraiya didn't know better, he'd think the man was focusing on something else.
"No, I mean what I've always wanted."
Crossing his arms over his chest, he studied what was in front of him. Strong shoulders on a tall, lithe frame, an elegant neck and gentle cheekbones that gave off a veneer of beauty, Orochimaru had always been stunning. The right blend of masculine features with feminine grace, he never wanted for anything. And yet here he was, stating the opposite.
More lies.
"What," Jiraiya ground out, "do you want."
"You."