A wild tumbling free fall. Lost a mere speck amongst the darkness, the void ground upon the soundness of his mind, pandemonium in it's finest form causing upheaval in his already distorted thoughts.
The fragile working spun by his unstable seidr did little to hold him together. The delicate net had to many hole, and to many bits and pieces of what made him himself slipped through.
The amount of time it took to complete his working was almost to much, the price was just short of to high, the results were of questionable worth.
Time was relative in the void, minutes could easily be days, and days could easily have been mere seconds. It was simply impossible to tell if any time passed at all. He knew that he had accomplished his working though.
Eventually the chituri while wandering through the roots of Yggdrasil discovered something. It was a mad gibbering thing. A mad twisted thing, gaunt pale and hollow eyed, it babbled quietly to itself in tongues only it understood.
Otherwise it was silent, eyes that saw to much glazed and vacant. but they recognized it as something that was once great, how else could it survive within the void?
it wasn't long before they drew it out of it's madness, the gibbering thing learned how to scream.
It took some work to teach it to do more than just that, but quickly the gibbering mad thing was able to focus, learning there were more than just the horrors lurking in it's mind. Some existed outside it too, and they could be much much worse.
So the mad lost thing was presented to their master, and the Mad Titan stared down at the fallen creature at his feet, a quirk to his lips, eyes glittering as it shuddered pitifully.
It's name was asked.
Swollen lips were released from between sharp bloodstained teeth. Tongue bloody and bitten darted over dry cracked lips. A raspy voice rose from a pale bruised throat, uttering a single word.
"Loki."
.
.
.
.
Why Tsalmaveth expected more he didn't know, by the nine, Gavri'el was an angel of all creatures, and an annoying bright ball of self-loathing and to see past the blind devotion towards a being that barely acknowledged them.
Brooding over it's siblings constant squabbles and fighting. More like killing, but whatever little details and all that. They'll work it out in a couple centuries.
Perhaps he judged to harshly but He must not care to much for His angels if only four of them out of the countless number He made ever saw His face. If he a mere shade saw angels as luminescent microbes swimming in the sea of reality, what did the Creator see them as?
it was sickening, to much like the life that Loptr lived in a way, Tsalmaveth was not Loptr, nor would he ever be again whether he wanted to or not, he was simply a shadow, the remnants of another neither lesser or greater being, just different.
Loki was a mess. A little child seeking the affections of a father that either didn't care, or just didn't know how to care for more than one child. An older brother that cared but didn't notice the hurt he caused to the one he claimed to love. Insolent blundering fool-
Really it didn't matter much in the long run. What's done is done and all that.
Any trace of who he was no longer existed, and what little remained was a compressed smoldering dark thing, shoved down to make room for the archangel.
In reflection, why it seemed like a good idea to sacrifice his freedom, limited as it was for his spawn of all things made little sense.
The serpent was winding through the cosmic ocean, a graceful flowing ribbon through the chaotic waters that was the source of most of existence.
The horse ran with the wind, guiding and drowning sea faring men in equal measure, riding storms raining sparks of lightning from his hooves that thundered with each step.
The wolf shred of the branches of world trees, gnawing designs into the old wood to decorate his den he shared with the girl.
Logically he knew Tsalmaveth a millennia give or take a century or two he cared for them, loved even, but enough to sit as a passenger in his own avatar? Foolish. Yet, he could not find it in himself to regret his decision. Dull eyes drifted away from the small glowing celestial, dark with dissatisfaction.
"Patheric." The angel had the nerve to start in surprise, further increasing his ire. "The very sight of you makes me sick, disgusting moping little waste of space that you are."
Eyes wide the archangel's wings twitched in a spastic in a pitiful flopping motion. Tsalmaveth was sure if he had a fully functioning range of emotions, he would have felt amusement at the mighty celestial being's surprisingly ungraceful attempt to express itself.
However he did not, so simply gazed down at it with a superior expression he acted on emotions Tsalmaveth would maybe have felt in this situation.
"What was I expecting from you when I agreed to house you I will never fully comprehend. I see nothing that could have inspired the faith I had in you at the time." Silver fangs bared, he clucked his tongue in annoyance, all eyes thinned and fixated upon the listless creature.
As much as it irritated him to admit, even privately to himself, Tsalmaveth would have been unsure if keeping the angel to its word was worth bringing such a bright creature to such a low state.
He shuffled, bright claws pinged on nothing, quicksilver coursing not to comfortably through his being reminding him no matter what he felt, he wasn't really Tsalmaveth.
It was impossible to become something that no longer fully existed.