The sun hadn't risen yet as Loki walked down the wet street, hands in his pockets, hair dripping from the downpour. Since his exile to Helheim, and his eventual escape, he'd decided to lay low in Midgard while things settled down. This realm was the last place they would look for him after what he did to it. He'd taken quite the beating while escaping his daughter's realm; and though it was over a month ago, his muscles still screamed at him as the freezing rain seeped through his clothes. He trudged along, grumbling to himself about the poor quality of Midgardian clothing.
Not long after he'd returned to the mortal Realm, Loki had convinced a young woman to let him stay with her temporarily. Ivy had approached him in a coffee shop a few weeks ago, asking if he really was who he looked like. After he warily confirmed his identity, she joined him and listened to his sob story. As he spoke, her eyes had gotten wide with anticipation; she gasped at the appropriate parts. She had even teared up once or twice. When he'd finished telling her everything, she seemed to be sympathetic to his plight, and agreed to let him stay. He had no idea why he had told this stranger everything; he just felt the compulsion. She could have been a plant from S.H.I.E.L.D., or have been planning to give him up, but at that point, he didn't care. It had been so long since he'd been around someone he wasn't fighting, he just spilled his guts. In the case that she really was working against him, he knew that treacherous mortals were easily dealt with, anyway.
He reached the abode and slunk up the steps of the run-of-the-mill Craftsman. The place was cozy; a nice change from the sometimes anxiety-inducing vastness of his last few 'homes'. Sure, he liked his space and freedom, but living so long in Odin's palace, and then the abyss that led him to the Chitauri and their place in the cosmos… Too much open space had begun to make him feel vulnerable. The small house suited him just fine.
He went inside and immediately sank into the couch, still sopping wet. His new roommate would yell at him for soaking the furniture, but he secretly found it hilarious when she got frustrated with him. Her face always got bright red, her eyes wide with exasperation. Eventually, she'd get to the point where she ran out of words and just calmly walked away. It didn't happen often, but apparently living with the God of Mischief wasn't easy for a mortal.
When the nightmares haunted him, Loki would amble around the neighborhood until he couldn't stay awake anymore. This happened most nights. He dreamt of murdering Laufey to save Odin, the man who had crushed his soul in the first place. He dreamt of the the emptiness he felt as he fell from the wreckage of the BiFrost, being lost between the branches of Yggdrasil, and eventually being scooped up by the Chitauri however many months later. At first, they had been kind. They gave him shelter and food; whatever he needed. He listened as the Other began talking about the Tesseract and the powers it held. They wanted it. For what, Loki didn't know. They promised him freedom and a return to normalcy if he would venture to Earth and claim it for them. He was skeptical of their claims, and declined the offer. That was when he became a prisoner to his former saviors; that was when the torture started. They beat him mercilessly – to the brink of death before letting him recover and doing it again. They filled his mind with images of his loved ones being tortured and killed, sometimes at his own hand. This went on until they finally tired of their game and used what little connection they had to the Tesseract to take control of him. It wasn't full control, however, but they kept him in check by reminding him that worse was in store if he failed his mission.
The sound of footsteps lumbering down the stairs caused him to wake with a start. "Oh, god, stop!" He'd fallen asleep to the disturbing memories. Ivy leaned over the back of the couch and gazed at him. "Stop what? You know, you should really stop sleeping on this thing. It'll give you back problems." She paused for a moment and furrowed her brow at him. "Wait, do gods even get back problems?" She shook her head as she walked into the kitchen. She'd often ask him questions like that, but they were usually deeper. Real 'what is the meaning of life' types of questions. His presence here sometimes caused her little existential crises.
As he peeled himself from the cushions, he groaned. Yes, gods could get back aches. In fact, he ached all over. Even his skin hurt. Without a word to her, he made his way to the bathroom. Sleeping in rain-soaked clothes had turned him into a mess. He started the shower and disrobed as the water heated, examining himself in the mirror. Christ, did he look awful. His cheeks were hollow, his complexion a sickly pale. The dark circles under his eyes had come back, as well. He looked like walking death. It was a surprise that he was allowed in public like this; surely he had scared some children at one time or another. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
"God damn it, Loki!" Ivy screamed at him from the living room. She must have been on the couch. He cracked the door open and called to her. "Sorry!"
"No, you're not! You always do this! Why do you insist…" She went silent. He chuckled as he replied. "You're right, I'm not!" Midgard didn't hold much room for grand mischief making, nor did his position, but he'd take what little he could get. Part of him felt bad about messing with the kind woman who had taken him in, but she knew what she was getting herself into from the beginning.
As thick steam began to pour from the shower, he stepped in. The near-scalding water cascaded over him, immediately soothing his aching muscles. He softly groaned in relief as it washed through his hair, and for several minutes, he just stood under the stream in an attempt to fully relax. It never really worked, but he had to try. He often wondered why, how after all this time, he was still so disturbed by his most recent hardships. He'd been through worse, hell; he'd been tied to a rock with his son's entrails under an acid-spitting snake for a century. That had been punishment, though. It hadn't been a personal attack. Ivy had explained that she thought he had something called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Before then, he wasn't even aware that something like that could afflict a god, but with the way she described it, it sounded about right.
Eventually, he washed. He looked around the small shower space for some shampoo and spotted the bottle Ivy had made for him. It was spearmint scented and he loved it. It reminded him of his childhood in Asgard when he and Thor would pick the leaves from Frigga's garden. He smiled at the memory as he worked up a rich lather in his hair, not wanting to have to eventually rinse it out. After he did so, he began methodically scrubbing at his skin. Sometimes, just as now, he became obsessive about it. It was as if he couldn't get the stink of the Chitauri off of him. There had been numerous occasions where he had scrubbed himself raw and had to try to heal himself. Healing magic wasn't his strong suit. This time, he managed to avoid going overboard, and hopped out of the shower before he could continue and cause damage.
He wrapped a towel around his hips and headed for his room. As he passed the living room, he saw Ivy blotting the couch cushions with paper towel as if it would help anything. With a small smile, he waved his hand toward the couch and it was instantly dried. She looked up to thank him, but he was already headed up the stairs. His chamber here was simple – he couldn't get enough simplicity these days. The room only contained a bed, side table with a lamp, and a mirrored armoire. No artwork adorned the walls, and he kept no personal possessions in Midgard. Loki wasn't one for sentiment.
He quickly dressed, hardly paying attention to what he put on. He looked himself over in the mirror and saw a slight improvement as some color had returned to his face. When he returned to the living room, he found Ivy sitting on the couch. She watched the news as she had her morning cigarette and sipped at her coffee. He joined her, lightly plucking her cigarette from between her fingers and taking a drag as he eyed the television screen. She looked at him with raised brows. "Since when do you smoke?" He simply glanced at her and shrugged, returning it to her. "Uh, thanks…" She gestured toward the T.V. "Did you hear about this?" There had been another attack, this time in Chicago. Some nut-ball with delusions of grandeur had made a mess of the city. The news showed clips of Iron Man and Captain America in a standoff with the maniac. Loki chuckled lightly and gave her a faux bright-smile. "Well, I didn't do it."
Ivy sighed lightly and looked at him. "Does it bother you?" He turned his attention to her again. "Does what bother me?" She pursed her lips, not wanting to upset him by getting too personal about something that obviously did sometimes. "This… Seeing them saving the day again. They didn't exactly just give you a slap on the wrist." He thought for a moment, also sighing before he spoke, shaking his head as he did so. "No, not really. Sure, it reminds me of the whole Tesseract business, but I hold no grudges or ill-will. They were only doing what they had to do to protect what they love. Had our positions been reversed, I'd have done the same thing." As the Hulk appeared on the screen, smashing the villain into a steel building, Loki cringed, remembering how he'd been tossed around like a rag-doll and embedded into a marble floor. Even he admitted that he'd had it coming since he had led an alien army into a battle against the Realm, killing many people, and regrettably, Agent Coulson . He'd never admit to it, but he had admired the way the mortal man had stood up to him on the helli-carrier that day. Coulson had been a fine soldier.
Ivy stood and stretched before moving to return her mug to the kitchen. Loki followed her, intending to make some tea for himself. As he rummaged through the cupboards for his favorite mug, Ivy turned to him, leaning against the sink. "So, what's on your agenda for the day?" He found the mug and turned to her. "I'm not really sure. I don't have many options since I'm supposed to be in hiding." He raised a brow at her and began going through the large collection of teabags, not knowing what he was in the mood for. Ivy sounded concerned as she spoke to him. "I think you should get out of the house today. While the sun is up. Sure, you're in hiding, but you seem so lonely, Loki. I think it would be good for you." He gave her a tight smile. "Need I remind you that I'm not exactly welcome in this Realm? And mingling with mortals… Yeesh!" She looked at him and frowned. "Well, you seem to manage with me just fine. I'm banning you from the house today. Go out; do something." Loki nodded in defeat and pursed his lips, trying to think of what he'd busy himself with. He didn't find many things on Earth to be entertaining, but he'd have to manage.