Midgard was just as filthy as his research had claimed it to be. The grubby air, even in the natural forests, weighed heavy on him, a layer of grim coated him from toe to head. His delicately handsome face was pressed against the ground. Even the dirt smelled quite unpleasant.
However, the supposed wintry winds seemed almost fragile to him. The cold was nothing as it was back in Asgard. In fact, the cold seemed to welcome Loki, lifted his rather dull and crushed spirit. The lulled winds brought back the color to his shockingly pale face and reminded him he was alive despite that fact that he felt quite dead. His normally sparkling green eyes seemed rather dull and disheartened. He began to sulk with self pity as he came to terms with his current imprisonment.
Midgard, for all intensive purposes, was worse than Nifflheim.
Loki continued to remain in his state of self pity when he realized he could not seem to even summon the strength to move. He could not even conjure himself into a smaller being so he could channel his energy into relocating himself. He had considered this possibility whilst in Bifrost. But he had shaken off the likelihood and focused on his plan for redemption.
Surely, being strewn on the ground was not part of this plan. Loki came to terms with the fact he would have to remain in Midgard in this very position if he wished to regain his strength. In a few days time, he would be restored and ready to wreak his vengeance. His soul smoldered with frustration as he lamented over his situation. He wanted to ruin Odin with every fiber of his godly being. He wanted his family to plead for salvation, only to bring upon them his swift vengeance crashing over their foolish heads. Oh, how the sound of their pleads sent a bubble of joy from his chest and out his smirked mouth. He wanted so badly to spring into action – but he knew he must be patient.
The soft flakes of icy snow began to coat him like a pure, elegant blanket. The flakes fell around him, grazed his cheeks, and spotted his godly attire.
Oh, what a way to bury a prince.
She was plunging down the endless, dark pit with no end in sight. She scrambled to grab a ledge or a jutted rock to grab hold onto. Her fingers slipped over countless rocks, but she could not seem to get a grip on any of them. Her arms, legs, and tender torso were ripped apart as she wildly swung her arms about, desperate to stop falling through the terrible pit.
Well, she thought it was a pit.
All that really concerned her was that she was falling with no end in sight. She dreamt of this falling ever night, but she would never reach the ground. She would wake up at the sound of her buzzing alarm without concluding the dream. And as odd as it sounded, she truly did want to see what was at the bottom of whatever she was falling through. What lay in the dark recesses of her mind that her body was not yet ready to see?
Her body contorted in her small, uncomfortable bed. Her limbs were wrapped in the cotton sheets, tangled in a snake-like fashion. Her entire body was wet with sweat, her face strained. Her muscles contracted with each flail of her arms and legs. She would be overwhelming exhausted when she woke up, more so than usual. This dream was slightly more violent than the others. She felt her body being tossed around more than ever before.
She realized that tonight may be the night that she would reach the bottom of the pit. Where she would finally stop falling.
And just as that thought rang through her head, she felt her body began to slow down, as though she was falling slower than before. She felt as light as a feather, drifting down from the sky. The rushing wind didn't bite at her skin anymore, and arms no longer reached for contact. She felt almost blissful for a moment.
Her raw skin felt the soft ground press against her, cold and supple. Her head rested against a particularly padded part of the ground. Her body came to a complete halt as she landed gracefully. Her entire body felt frail. Slowly, she opened her eyes, realizing they had been closed the entire dream. Her sight was flooded with color and her ears with sound. Cautiously, she glanced without moving an inch.
Snow surrounded her, piling around her body. Above her was the darkened night sky, large trees looming over her. The animals furrowed around her, seeking shelter in the winter storm. She couldn't blame them for evading such a terrible blizzard. She then looked to her right with the same vigilance as before.
About three feet from her very body was a man, halfway buried beneath the snow. His jet black hair was speckled with the white snow. His lips were sewn shut in a thin, frowned line. His face was forlorn and his sinister green eyes simmered with a dull intensity. His hair, black as an ink blot, was slicked back neatly away from his handsome face. He looked completely destitute and it broke her heart.
She gathered ever bit of power she could and slowly, extended her arm. She stretched her fingers as far as possible and tried to use that damned touch of hers for something beneficial. She was inches away from his face. She could almost feel her fingers skim his soft, flawless skin. She shimmied her weak body closer. She was so close she could feel the meager heat roll of his body, dissipating in the snow.
Lucy wanted so badly to caress that gloomy face and perhaps, bring a bit of joy. See his thin, drawn lips pulled into a smile, even if it was a small one. No man that handsome should ever have such a saddening expression. Her heart wrenched at the mere thought of it.
Her alarm woke her suddenly. Lucy's eyes flew open as her chest heaved with heavy breaths. She could feel her heart pounding painfully against her chest. She slowed craned her head to find her arm extended in front of her, just as it had been in the dream. Although she had been sweating, her body felt unusually cold. Slowly, she moved her fingers, pin pricks coursing from the tip of her pinky to her shoulder blade.
She smiled despite the heavy ache that rang throughout her entire body. Her fingers still tingled as they always did, a small shock sitting on the tips. She pressed them together, the tingling ceasing to a small buzz. Lucy then stared at each finger for a while like she always did when they felt like this.
All ten fingers looked absolutely normal. Her hands were small and thin with nails neatly cut but unpainted. She bent each finger with ease and squeezed the flesh, watching it go from stark white to a warm red. The skin was soft and warm to the touch.
They looked perfectly normal. She felt pain when they were pricked, heat when she accidently touched the stove, and cold when she forgot her gloves on her walk to work. They looked, felt, and reacted standard. For all intensive purposes, they were normal.
But Lucy knew they weren't.
Lucy shook her head and exhaled, her lungs savoring the early morning oxygen. Slowly, Lucy crept out of her warm bed and padded over to her apartment balcony. She slid open the glass sliding door and stepped outside onto the warm concrete. The air was warm and thick on her skin, the sun starting to beam from behind the early morning haze. Lucy looked down onto the city, men and women in suits darting from street to street, hurrying to work. She rested her arms on the railing and rested her chin on her arms. She closed her eyes and took in the sounds of the busy city for a few moments.
She couldn't explain why, but she absolutely adored New York City. Lucy knew this was strange, seeing as she was the exact opposite of the typical New Yorker. Lucy was quiet and reserved, and always tried her hardest to never say a false or mean word. She kept to herself, but did have a few good friends that she would often go out to bars with, even though Lucy rarely ever drank. Lucy was always observing, taking things in. She'd much rather listen to the conversation than start it.
But that was what made Lucy so good at her job; if you could even really call it a job. To Lucy, it was more of a hobby she got paid for. It was a knack she had practiced and matured over time.
Lucy opened her eyes again and walked back inside her apartment. She shut the door behind her and padded to the bathroom. Lucy, as always, started a hot shower and waited until the room was encompassed with steam. She stepped into the shower, cringing at the sudden heat. She let her muscles relax in the hot water, and smoothed out some of the muscle sores from her dream from the previous night.
Her eyes lulled closed in the heat of the shower. Once again, she saw the shockingly green eyes, sparkling against the white snow. His lips, thin and drawn downward, and that same, downcast expression that made her heart melt. She kept her eyes shut, recalling every inch of him in her head until the water ran ice cold. She couldn't understand what about him was so alluring, but she didn't really care.
Lucy shut off the water and dried off her entire body with a towel. She walked out of the hot bathroom, a rush of cool air hitting her face. She sprawled out on her bed naked and let her soaking hair drip down her back. She wanted to fall back asleep and see that face one more time. She laughed at her own stupidity – she had a crush on a figment of her subconscious. Lucy reminded herself that he was not real. She had never and would never meet him, unless she was sleeping.
But even that wasn't a definite.
Lucy, still exhausted from her dream last night, started to feel herself drift off again. Her eyes lulled closed, her breathing slowed. She felt the warmth of sleep warm her body, even though the water droplets were cold on her skin. She let herself enjoy the last few seconds of bliss before she felt herself nodding off.
It was such a wonderful feeling of contentment that took over her. She felt her sore muscles go lax, her mind slowed down. She could not recall what she was thinking seconds ago. Her mind was a clouded mess, but a calm one.
The doorbell rang like a shrill alarm clock, waking Lucy. She sprang into urgent action and ripped open her drawers. She grabbed a t-shirt and fitted cargo pants, pulling them over her legs and dancing around the room to pull them around her womanly waist.
"I'm coming!" she shouted as the bell continued to buzz away rapidly. Lucy jogged to the apartment door and peeked through the peep hole.
Her best, and just about only, friend Roxie was leaning against the door. Her makeup, that had obviously been from the night before, was smudged all over her face. Her hair was pulled into a knotty bun, showing off her thin, pretty face. Her skin was pale and dull and her eyes were squinted. Even when she was a train wreck, she still looked beautiful.
Lucy opened the door and Roxie just about collapsed in her arms. Lucy's nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol that radiated from her. She felt her stomach churn with acid at the smell.
"Not again, Roxie," Lucy sighed. She wrapped her arms under Roxie armpits and dragged her to the couch. Lucy placed a pillow under her neck and tilted her head down and away from the couch, in case Roxie vomited. She also grabbed a small garbage can she kept in the bathroom, a glass of water, and two aspirins. Roxie groaned and covered her eyes with her hand.
"I don't wanna throw up," Roxie moaned as she tossed around on the couch. Lucy bit her lip and propped Roxie's head up.
"Just take these pills and drink the water Roxie," Lucy begged. She placed the pills against Roxie's dry, chapped lips. Roxie at first, kept them clamped shut, but eventually gave in. She took two meager sips from the water and gagged a bit. Lucy placed Roxie's head back on the couch.
Roxie's eyes closed shut and her chest began to rise slowly. Lucy crouched next to her, knowing she was going to have to do it. Lucy didn't want to, but she knew she had to. Roxie was badly hung over and Lucy knew she couldn't leave her alone.
Lucy glanced at the clock and realized she would have to depart to work soon. With a deep breath, she placed her hands on the origin of Roxie's problems; her mouth. That is, after all, how she consumed the alcohol. Lucy felt the familiar tingle creep in her fingers and up her arm.
The wave of nausea hit her first. It came over her like a giant wave, sending her stomach into such an awful feeling that she almost had to stop. Her head began to pound with such ferocity Lucy could barely concentrate. She felt her entire body become hot. She felt a drip of sweat roll down the back of her neck as droplets formed over her top lip.
Her fingers began to fizzle, the tingling fading. She knew it was almost over, but she didn't know how much longer it would last. Her jaw ached and her throat grew raw. She could taste alcohol in vomit in her mouth, and her stomach muscles were sore from all the vomiting Roxie must have done. She heard a small sigh escape Roxie's mouth, and she knew she could remove her fingers from her lips.
Lucy collapsed on the floor and her fingers burned as though they were on fire. Her entire body throbbed in pain and she lost her sight. Everything went black, and a heavy ring filled her ears and drowned her senses. She could not longer smell the alcohol that Roxie reeked of.
Lucy was completely helpless.
She wasn't sure why she always lost all ability to do anything whenever she used the power. She assumed it was her body's way of coping with the trauma she had just gone through. Going from perfectly normal to absolutely hung over probably sent every nerve in her body into a frenzy. She thought of it almost as her body shutting down, wiping out whatever feelings she had just absorbed and returning her to normal.
The ring in her ears subsided, and slowly, her sense of smell returned. Lucy didn't move from the floor until she gained back her vision. Even when she was able to see again, she was forced to keep her eyes shut for a while due to her sensitivity to the light.
Slowly, Lucy stood up and looked at Roxie. She had fallen into a deep sleep as she always did after Lucy used her power. It was a minor side effect and Lucy guessed it was similar to how she would collapse every time she used her power. Roxie's body probably freaked at the sudden change of balance and needed to rest.
Lucy splashed cold water in her face and put her hair up in a neat bun. She grabbed her bag, filled with her work utensils and jotted down a note for Roxie, letting her know where Lucy was and how she could reach her. She set aside cereal in a bowl and the milk for when Roxie woke up. Lucy knew from experience Roxie always ate cereal after a bad hangover.
Lucy then took one last look at Roxie and left her apartment.