Day One: Forms and Costumes (Jotun!Loki)
It was a testament to his willpower that the mirror was still intact, that he hadn't broken down and driven his fist through it already, with its traitorous image staring back at him in colors of indigo and crimson.
It was a testament to his instability that he was even considering it.
With those treacherous, ancient runes running over his skin like carved slices of flesh, his own appearance disgusted him. Blood-red eyes staring unblinkingly at his reflection, his face a foreign, betrayed mask of horror, he took a moment to think clearly.
This is what Odin had stared at in subdued disdain, what he had glanced over to see the false truth beneath, what he had failed to accept deep down.
This is what Frigga had smiled down at in that motherly, warm way of hers, what she had unconditionally loved, what she had overlooked for what she believed to be true.
This is what Thor had refused to actually witness, what he had denied for the sake of memory, what Loki had tried to get him to see.
This is what Laufey had tossed away and what Loki had found no worth in, and how fitting that he find the thought so entertaining now.
Such a worthless waste his life had been, if all that had ever lurked beneath it was a monster unable to be saved, he thought bitterly.
Such a very awful waste, if all he was left with in all the years after was the face of a beast, glaring at him with those eyes, holding all the memories and truths he'd tried so hard to run away from.
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