The mischief god awoke suddenly and was surprised to see that not only was there a piercing pain in his head, but he was not in his bed. He groaned and attempted to move from the cot that he was laying on, however as he did so he felt pain shoot through his body and he groaned again. He looked down at his naked body and saw noticeable scars and wounds. He was used to healing quickly, his magic did it for him. But now there were wounds up in various places on his body and even now he could see blood beginning to seep through a wound under his ribs that he had reopened as he had attempted to stand.

He laid his head back on the pillow and wondered how he had ended up with these wounds and how he could heal them. He couldn't recall how he had gotten them, where he was, or even when it was. AND to top it off, he had never bothered to learn healing spells as his body healed itself and he cared little for others.

While he laid there he attempted to get a sense of the room. He was in one of the corners of the room. On the other wall there were two closed windows, that did not appear as though they could be opened, which revealed a snowy landscape. Beneath one window was a desk and chair and beneath the other was a dresser. In the corner near the dresser was a closed closet, next to which there was a door. Beside the door, on the other side was an overflowing bookcase, next to which was what appeared to be an ingredients cabinet along with a pile of cauldrons of different sizes and metals, and even a wooden cauldron, which was rare. Before he left he would have to inspect the cauldrons and ingredients cabinet. It was a plain and small room by all means, but was certainly not a terrible room.

When his body began to go numb again he attempted to stand managed to get further; he got into a sitting position and even began to stand, but he collapsed as pain shot through his left leg and he found he couldn't even move his right leg. As he forced himself back into a laying position the door opened and he tensed himself, preparing for the worst.

Instead a young female human rushed through, "Are you okay?" As she looked him over and noticed the several wounds that had begun to bleed she suddenly began to blush. "W-would you mind covering yourself with the b-blanket?" He looked around the cot and noticed that he had ended up laying on the blanket. "Fuck," he muttered to himself. "I don't think I can move off of it." The girl nodded and rushed out of the room blushing. As she disappeared he appraised her, she appeared to be extremely young, perhaps ten or twelve? And then it occurred to him that he could not hear her footsteps for long after she had left the room and when he began to hear them again he was surprised that within seconds, not just the female from before, but another, slightly older female, appeared.

"So you're finally awake. You shouldn't've tried to move, dumbass." "Brenda!" "Oh hush Astrid! Go check on everyone else, I've got work to do." Huh, sword and divine beauty, interesting. He assumed, or more hoped that Brenda was here to heal him and not kill him, as her name implied. It was then, as she was approaching him and Astrid was ducking out, that he noticed the metal box in her hand, which could either mean torture or healing. He sincerely hoped it was the later. He'd never liked to rely on others, but he couldn't deny that he needed help currently.

She sat the box down and began to sit on the bed, "So what's your name?" He sighed a breath of relief, if she didn't know his name it was very likely she wasn't here to torture him, he didn't think he could handle that in his current state, "Loki." She just murmured a "huh" under her breath as she opened the box. Inside were various medical supplies that, if he weren't even slightly familiar with human healing techniques he would assume they were torture, and a blanket. She removed the blanket, set it on the ground then she pulled out a sewing needle and thread and he squirmed. He'd heard about this archaic practice of sewing wounds closed but couldn't stand the idea of it. "Must you?" She snorted, "You ripped open your previous stitches, if you hadn't tried to move you would've been fine, however now you need more, or would you prefer an infection that could possibly killed you. He contemplated how painful that might be compared to having a needle tear through his skin but before he could come to any form of a conclusion she began. It was as painful as he imagined.

Finally, once she had sewn closed all of his open wounds she closed the metal box and began to lay the blanket over him. She began to stand up when he grabbed her arm, "What about my legs?" She looked at him blankly, "Your legs?" He nodded and he had to bite down his pride as he said the next part, "I can't feel my right leg and my left leg hurts when I put pressure on it." She nodded and murmured, "I'll be right back." She disappeared through the door and appeared a few moments later with an extremely young female whom she had begun to bicker with, "Why didn't you check his legs Eir?" He blinked at the name, The Goddess of Healing? Why hadn't she just come to heal him? "You didn't tell me to!" Eir appeared to be maybe five or six, compared to Astrid who appeared to be approaching adulthood and who was probably seventeen or eighteen. "Well check them now!"

Eir nodded and climbed onto the cot. She pulled the blanket up to his waist and set her hands on his right leg. She shook her head, "You'll never be able to feel this again, its all been burned away. There are no tendons, no nerves, the muscles and bones are black." "You can't do anything healer?" He asked, looking a Eir. She blinked, clearly surprised that he knew what her name meant, "I can't heal yet, I can only tell you what is wrong right now. I hope I can heal in the future, but I can't right now."

He nodded, resigned. Then began to wonder what had caused the burns that she had described. As he contemplated this he heard her gasp. He looked up alarmed, "Y-you don't have a knee, and alot of the bones around the knee are missing, how did you manage to move this leg?" He blinked, he had no idea. "So I'm assuming there's nothing you can do for it?" Astrid cut in now, "I can bind it and keep it straight and we can hope that it heals. Otherwise we'll have to build you a wheelchair."

He blinked. A wheelchair. He was the mighty Loki. The Loki who had caused so much trouble. Loki the God of Mischief, some had called him. Loki, resigned to a wheelchair? He couldn't fathom it, couldn't face it. He opened his eyes, "Where am I?" Both girls looked at each other and Astrid finally murmured, "We don't know. We all appeared here when we were young. We don't really remember anywhere else, but we also don't know where here is." He let his head fall back on the pillow, resignation coursing through him as much as the pain had.