The library was a place of intended solace, a vast collection of soothing words, endless lines of thought with enough rhythm to match every beat of his heart for the rest of his life. It was home for Loki, the only place he'd found serenity in a raging sea of unrest, and the only place he could save himself from drowning in it.
And usually, it was quiet.
He liked the silence that often accompanied the books and their shelves and the careful, adventurous words written therein, and he realized how much he missed it when the lack of sound vanished, one day as the sun was going down outside the library, casting odd lines of orange through the open window so that they could span across the dusty, ancient stone floor. He watched them dance over the surface, watched the ends flick and curl and die out, watched the sun vanish behind a blanket of clouds and abandon its duty to warm him.
He frowned at the sight, but heard the odd, loud noise that had yet again interrupted the still air, and turned his head to search for the source. There hadn't been anyone in the library when he'd come in, he thought distantly, a vague affirmation that urged him to stand and find who had intruded on his few hours of contentment.
He heard the sound again (it seemed akin to laughter, tiny giggles and muffled shuffling) and swiveled, only just barely catching a flash of white before it disappeared behind a bookshelf, and Loki sighed inwardly, disinclined to chase the person down. The spell just barely worked, a flaky performance at best, but he managed to teleport himself behind the shelf across the room, appearing in front of a running, slender form.
She stopped when she saw him flicker into existence in the midst of what had just been empty air, coming to a fast halt as she slowed just before she would have run into him. Her blonde curls bounced from her shoulders with the momentum, framing a pale, small face that more closely resembled a porcelain doll than a young girl, bright grey eyes wide with surprise and bewilderment. Her parted lips were stained red, her cheeks dusted rosy, the long, voluminous strands of yellow so rich with color that Loki could think for a moment that the sun had vanished to hide in her hair.
He longed for its warmth, and begrudged her the comfort it must have given her, smuggled beneath her locks and shining so brightly at him. He blinked, aware that his thoughts were becoming far too illogical, and the corners of those ruby lips curled up noticeably, amusement pulsing in the grin forming on her face. She was cloaked in a white cotton dress, one that hung from her lanky frame and thin shoulders, and Loki guessed that she was around his own age, one mere foot caught in the door of adolescence.
"Why are you smiling?" Loki questioned slowly, his voice instinctively cast low for the sake of keeping the library quiet. There was a loud pounding, heavy footfalls echoing throughout the room, disturbing all of the peace that Loki had sought, and he turned to see Thor rushing into the library, passing by the bookshelf aisle and catching sight of them, turning to run down the aisle.
He stopped, blue eyes lit with the seeking kind of energy he'd always possessed on the many hunting trips he'd gone on with Odin, smiling excitedly, cheeks flushed with warm blood. His eyes roamed over the girl before falling upon Loki, and the dark-haired prince furrowed his brow in confusion. Thor pointed, laughing.
"Get Sif!" Thor spoke dramatically, panting from his rush to the library, and most likely throughout the palace, and Loki turned to look at the girl in front of him, eyes wide as if she'd been caught in some horrendous act, but with a small smile on her face, brightening her features and bathing them in a light of beauty. He looked back to Thor imploringly, and the blond teen sighed with frustration.
"Tap her!"
It was an automatic motion, one that Thor had demanded and so Loki had carried out, and he'd already tapped her on the arm before he'd truly thought about it, and stared at his hand in surprise. The girl squealed with delight, and Loki winced as the sound hurt his ears, but she reached over and pressed her palm to his chest, touching him lightly before backing away hastily, giggling girlishly. When Loki didn't move, she looked past him to stare at Thor incredulously, and Loki heard his brother's amused chuckles sound behind him.
"You must catch us now," she breathed, and Loki realized.
A game.
Thor's pounding footsteps got fainter, as did the sound of his eager laughter, and Loki was left staring at the girl carefully backing away from him, keeping her eyes on Loki's own, that familiar, action-lusted grin flashing across her face, one that he'd seen on Thor's so many times before. When she had completely backed out of the aisle, the girl turned and flitted away, darting out of the room on quick legs, and Loki was left to stare at the many books around him, wondering if he'd actually just been invited to play in a game.
And so it was that he found himself longing to catch her, longing to see her face and confirm his suspicion, longing to seek her out and tap her on the shoulder and think, for the smallest, tiniest, most rare moment, that he had found a friend.
Longing to see her smile and think, briefly and fleetingly and happily, that he wasn't entirely alone.
Longing to think that he could ever be so easily accepted by another person.
Sif.
The sound of her name rang sharply through his thoughts and he ran faster than he ever had before, following the memory of her lilting, musical laughter.
Written for damnadler over on Tumblr.
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