OHD is a story where crap happens. That's it.
I am not going to trouble you guys for the legitimate reason I haven't updated for the story would be a lot longer than the chapter itself. I'm just glad to be back. Please enjoy this super bumfuzzling chapter((:
Replies:
AngelicScream—Hello new reviewer! Welcome to Ingamar! I. Am. So. Happy. That. You. Like. This. THAT IS MY PURPOSE! I really, really, really hope I keep you interested in this story! It makes me sad to think people give up on this story and leave it because it seems boring because, to be truly honest, these chapters are utter trash compared to the things that are going to happen in the future. You just have *sigh* bear with me and endure day one. Please. But THANK YOU dearly for staying captivated and keeping up with this drawling little plotline! Much freakiness ensues in this extra-long chapter so I hope you enjoy it!
Sparki111—Okay hold up, you changed your username and added an extra one O.O at first I thought I was going crazy! But anyway wuzzup girlfriend! Thank you! "Bril". I think I'm going to use that word now. So thank you! And hopefully this chapter will make you fifteen times more confused than you were already! Please enjoy it! I ask you and preferably anyone else reading to take notes to ask me questions later or you will be severely left behind.
Disclaimer: Peyton is a thief. Of course everything is mine. Haha. Lol. Just kidding…kind of.
Warnings: Utter ludicrousness. Two is back.
Hide your wife.
Hide your kids.
And definitely hide anyone moderately appeasing to the eyes.
Chapter X: Day One—D.I.D.
Oh wait. Hold up guys before I begin. I just want to inform you that Peyton is NOT a vampire. I know that seems like that most random comment in the WHOLE WORLD but trust me…if I didn't tell you, that's what you guys would be thinking. Because. The way that I describe her in this chapter, gives off that impression very. very well. So for Twilight-ers, sorry, I don't do demonic creatures, including vampires, sorry to disappoint you. Hopefully that will make you more curious as to what exactly Peyton really is(;
-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen
Even though she hadn't the faintest idea who this man was…
She was about to find out.
The young woman strutted towards the wary demigod, the heavy heels of her sleek combat boots thumping on the old wooden floors, approaching closer to the couch—his couch—a comical look of pleasure painted on her face, the corners of her lips tugging up at the side and reddening as she bit them .
Loki was scooting more and more in reverse against the arm of the long couch attempting to get further from her, his heart pounding like a snare drum beneath his chest, not knowing why Peyton was getting so close to him and looking so…dastardly in particular.
She stopped right by his foot, hand sited not on her hip, but questionably on her thigh, head cocked slightly to the right, her eyes roving about the length of his body almost…appetizingly.
Loki felt a knot develop deep in his throat, losing the ability to swallow correctly and gulped thickly, beginning once more to tremble. Because…he didn't feel like he was in the room with same person anymore, what was going on?
He wasn't given any time to deliberate.
Out of the blue, Peyton pounced like wildcat over to his face hovering over his chest, and purred, "Boo."
Loki squeaked like a mouse and scrabbled away, kicking as he grappled over to the edge of the sofa, about to fall off.
Peyton threw her head back and gave a low, teasing chuckle.
"I'm beginning to like this already." she purred, advancing even nearer to him, her witch-like fingers touching the fringe of his cape, Loki too afraid to snatch it away and in too much pain to leap off of the couch and escape.
Peyton leaned over and elongated herself above his shoulder now, her raven hair just brushing him, staring ever intently at him, Loki able to tell by her stance she was about to attack again.
Suddenly she gazed to his to the purple scars ensconced about his thin lips with a look of perplexity and then, to his dismay, intrigue.
"What happened to your mouth," she reached out to touch it but he jerked away just in time, shaking and Peyton ignored his indignant response.
She smiled enticingly with a voice full of evil smoothness, "That better not be what I think it is."
Loki's eyes pivoted about confusingly, unsure of what she was talking about. He just wanted her to go away. As soon as possible.
"I hope so," her canines appeared unusually pointed like white daggers, glinting venomously in front of his face.
He forgot to breathe.
Her nose ticked.
Peyton frowned. Uh oh.
Nose-twitching was always a bad sign.
She had a good feeling this one was going to be fun. Really fun. And no baby-faced, pleasure-stealin', freckled-cheeked fool was going to stop her until she got what she wanted. Not this time.
Peyton slid her hand up his arm and rested it pertly on his shoulder, not caring that her weight was crushing his broken ribs, piercing into his chest and slowly choking him.
Loki was too horrified to move an inch, paralyzed yet quaking in pure fear of this human, of whom he had the assurance was going to cause him great harm very, very soon.
The girl leaned in towards his head, the gap between them narrowing dramatically, instantly all of the blood drained from his face and Loki's mouth drew back in a bone-chilling scream, though no sound left his lips.
The child gradually approached the terrified being, beads of sweat developing on his forehead and his throat running dry. He wanted to yell ,but nothing came, he wanted to push the little wench away and hide, but he simply didn't have the strength, she was smashing his vital organs. Said vital organs included his lungs and heart and it was becoming more agonizing to breathe by the second.
He crammed his eyes shut, waiting for the shots of searing pain of her pointed fangs to sinking into his head.
She was about an inch away, just an inch from success, when she was halted by a deafening shrill that shockwaved through her mind, causing her to shrink back and slap her hands over her ears. "Ahhh!"
"STOP IT!"
Peyton cried out aloud, wincing at the volume of the shout.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"
The sound scattered her thoughts like television snow, rambling and shrieking. She could ... hear the other's thoughts. That was definitely new.
"How are you-" she cringed again, still having her hands clapped over her head, "-doing that?!"
Loki gasped and looked around apprehensively, confused and afraid wondering what he did.
"TOUCH HIM AND I'LL MUTILATE YOU!"
"I don't think that's even possible," and she searched for that little thing she'd always hated to be called, and sneered through the aching in her head, "-Pookie."
"Grr! Don't EVER call me that!"
Peyton could feel the other gritting her teeth in aggravation. Smiling, she taunted, "But I thought you liked that nickname-Pookabear."
"OWW!"
A rush of new static buzzed through her head as-
"JUST GET THE HECK AWAY FROM HIM HE'S MINE!"
Peyton pushed through the pain she felt dragging down the ends of her lips and played up a crude, mocking smile, knowing exactly how to respond.
"Aww. Always saving the good ones for yourself, huh Pooka?," she teased snidefully, winking at Loki who had just then become to feel quite ill.
"But I should have guessed...you never did like to share..." she smirked.
Peyton could hear the hissing.
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW THAT!"
Peyton chuckled deridingly, "Don't be so shoah," as she remembered another name,"Kit Kat," and she brushed Loki's cheek with the back of her hand, making him shudder as a new wave of fear and sickness splashed over him.
"Though I gotta say you and I are developing a simila' taste, I've neva' known YOU to be the one to go after the-" and she grinned so wickedly Loki went faint, "-olda' ones."
"SHUT UP MALPWOPTE!"
"Ooh, cursin' me out in Creole now, huh? Now what would Ma say about that?"
Peyton beamed, showing she was thoroughly enjoying this...argument of theirs...that wasn't actually happening. She loved this. She previously had never been able to communicate with her before, now she was taking full advantage of this new feature, "You never learned how ta' controa' yo' mouth either. But that's to be expected…from a rat."
Loki's breathing became dangerously swift and raspy, causing her herself to bob up and down with the rise and fall of his lungs he was respiring so fast. Because-he had just come across the horrific realization-Peyton. Was. Actually. NOT. Talking to him. And that was more frightening than all of it.
"I'm not going to hurt him," she purred, gazing into glowing green Loki's eyes that were dancing about in mortified bemusement, mouth still agaped, struggling to understand what was happening as his strained breaths continued to quicken.
"I just want to play..." she spun a piece of her hair between her forefinger and purred enticingly, blanketing herself ever more onto the stranger.
"I DON'T GIVE TWO FLIPS, SECONDARY! GET OFF OF HIM NOW!"
"Don't call me Secondary, I want a real name."
"Well that sucks, now get up off my roommate!"
"What? Your roommate?" she grinned oh-so devilishly, "Oh, this just keeps getting bedda and bedda."
What? Loki gasped aloud and she, upon hearing this, gave him that vicious Cheshire again that haunted his very nightmares.
She never asked for much. But this one for certain was going to take a bit more coercion than it usually would've for most. But hey, she always in the mood for a good fight.
" GET AWAY NOW YOU BOUZIN!"
Peyton tutted and shook her head in false disappointment, "Tsk-tsk. Language, is that anyway to speak to ya' playmate?"
"ARGH!"
Peyton cocked her head to the side and bobbed it sassily with her lips pursed, and sucked her teeth in an extended peal, "Shtccuuuuuu!" and continued, "Guurlll, you just mad gurlfren' 'cuz you just jelly that I got to him first!" and she hummed lustfully, smirking pleasantly at Loki.
He almost vomited.
Peyton could feel the counterpart facepalm in her mind.
"IF YOU LAY ONE FINGER, TWO, ON HIM I'M GOING TA-"
"Too late, I've awlready laid a finger," her voice went urbanely low as she hummed, "Several in fact" , she walked her two longest fingers up his chest like a runway, grinning ever so more dangerously as her claws tiptoed across the surface of his cloak.
Loki closed his eyes tightly and a tremoring tear trickled down his cheek.
"Aww. Lookatim Pay, you mayde him cry" she crooned, when really her emotions were as cold as the surface of his skin.
"NO YOU DID, YOU LITTLE TRAMP!"
Peyton shook her head again and pouted sneeringly.
"Hey! That really hurt, Pay, how dare you call me that!" she said jeeringly, obviously not offended in the faintest. In reality, she couldn't give two manmanw's what she thought, just because they shared bodies didn't mean...
Peyton acceded with honeyed words, "I just like getting what I want-" she knew just how to get her, "-just like you."
"SHUT UP, I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU!"
Peyton just smiled. And smiled and smiled. Because this time she didn't even have to try. She made that one too easy. Her big, red lips curled into a perfect purse. Her accent gracing the words delectably.
"Yes you awre."
This time there was no reply.
Because like always. She had won. Again.
So she had thought.
Something smashed against her brain and Peyton cried out in torment as the screams were louder than before.
"GET THE HECK AWAY FROM HIM! RIGHT! NOW!"
Peyton's brain was whirring with two different thought patterns coiling about inside like tangled phone cords. Her senses were withering as she felt pinging in her ears and a veil over her eyes. She knew what that meant. She was fading and she knew she wasn't going to be staying out much longer. But she wouldn't give up.
She shook her head against the pain and tapped her chin, "No. No I don't think I will..."
She could feel the desperation in the other voice.
"Ugh! Please! Can't you see he's been hurt?!"
Her eyebrow rose. Had she just said please?
Peyton ran her eyes around the worn body she was sloped over; she could feel the tears in his skin. With her keenly sensitive nose she could even...smell blood. Her face softened and her conscience pricked her for a half a millisecond, wondering if she should maybe reconsider this, then like a bubble, bursted instantly.
"I'll be shoar to keep that in mind."
Loki was watching with paramount incredulity this child who was speaking to herself intensely. Having what seemed like…a conversation with someone whom he couldn't see and he felt himself about to have a stroke.
She smirked, coming up with another smart thing to say.
"Always givin' me the broken toys huh, Pay?"
She giggled lightly and sighed, bringing herself closer to her victim.
"But that's okay, that should make things...interesting."
Loki's heart stopped. Make what? Make what interesting?
"NO!"
Loki feel her breath as she closed in, her knife-life teeth about to come in contact with his neck. He was so utterly mortified he did something that only much, much later he would be relieved that he did.
From power that could have only have been derived from pure, unadulterated fear and adrenalin, before the pointed tip of her canines could stave into his skin, in a final thrust of strength, he took hold of her forearms with his hands and with a scream of undiluted dread, with all of his might, hoisted the little girl and threw her upper body from off of him.
Having used a force harder than he thought and on one so small as well, she propelled from off the sofa and onto the floor, and tumbling she fell against the her antique wingback chair and slammed her head against the foot of the furniture with a painfully loud whack.
Loki gasped in panic with another high pitched scream as he crammed himself into the couch in horror, eyes wider than they'd ever been. He hadn't meant to do that. From afar, he observed her, waiting to see a pool of crimson seep out beside the human from underneath the chair. But, and he thanked the Norns several times, there was none.
Peyton's body was unmoving for a few moments as her hair was over her face, crumbled over by the burgundy chair.
Then without even the slightest warning, Peyton tossed her head up, whipping her billowy tresses from her eyes, revealing a face he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.
Her unlit irises were enlarged, flickering menacingly back and forth from an inky pitch to an almost imperceptibly lighter black coffee, the whites of her eyes enhancing the very pits of the darkness and emphasizing the differs in the flashing colours.
Her vision was beginning to blur and Peyton could feel her essence slipping away into oblivion and something rapidly replacing it and she growled wildly, gnashing her jaws in rage, knowing she didn't have much time left. She was fading.
"I just—wanted-" she panted through gritted teeth cadaverously, sounding much like a possessed kindergartener about to have a tantrum, "—to. Play."
Loki went cold. And that rarely happened.
Her face was twisted into the most hideous scowl, mouth drawn out into the tight, skewed lines. And worst of all, her canines seemed to have lengthened, fangs hanging threateningly down from the either side of her reddened lips like a saber, appearing even more elongated as her mouth parted when she sibilated, panting harshly, her final words with more murder in her voice than he could've ever imagined, "I-will-come back-for you-" she shouted with her last ounce being, eyes flickering shades of black, "YOU LOUW-SY LITTLE KILLJOY!"
Loki's heart stopped beating.
With that, fluttering her eyelids, her head dropped, as she lay in limp pile of the floor, dreadfully still.
Loki was devoid of every evidence of life. Suddenly he scuttled off of the sofa to the ground, giving a tiny yelp of pain, scrabbled around the side on his hands and knees, dragging his lame leg, he padded achingly behind the back of the couch. Trembling greatly Loki cramped into a tight wad and pressed himself against the upholstery and lamented, eyes screwed shut, reducing himself to nothing. He'd killed her.
So he thought...
Somewhere there was a distant brong of a tolling gong being slammed by a felted hammer. But Loki didn't hear it.
There was a creak of some great door swinging open and a deep clang of it shutting, barring the way of a malignant foe. There were several clicks of junctions being unlocked and a stuttering grate of another aperture unbolting, releasing some poor, trifling hostage...
"Uhn..."
Heavy lids fluttered open and for a few moments all the world was dark and silent until her senses adjusted to the light and colours and sounds of her new surroundings.
As she faded into consciousness, she was panged by violent throbs of a merciless headache like one wouldn't believe, making her groan.
She blinked dumbly at the air, her eyes illustriously brightening from dark coal to a deep brown, finally beginning to see dim shapes. She was starting to feel her limbs and realized...she was on the floor...by her chair.
She moaned again and began to lift herself up and grimaced as she was overcome by slaps of pain and gingerly lowered herself back down. Mistake.
Her mind felt virtually empty until, like a French train rushing down its tracks, she was crashed with all of her thoughts.
And finally she was allowed the ability to rationalize aloud, "The heck am I doing over here?"
Upon hearing her voice again, Loki's eyes snapped open, pupils dilated to the size of a pinmarks and he swallowed harshly. Once again, shaking, he prayed that she wouldn't come over to him.
Peyton blinked again as her vision completely arbitrated to its natural state. Though she was feeling a bit dizzy and kind of confused, suddenly that became completely irrelevant, when her eyes settled on the long velvet green couch, which, for the first time since that very afternoon, was empty.
Her pain in her head immediately vanished with this burst of spontaneous discomfort, not knowing what to think of this seemingly perilous situation. She had been knocked out on the floor and nowhere to be found was her—Peyton suddenly leapt up off the ground and cried out anxiously, standing with a bit of difficulty—"Loki?"
Loki's heart jumped again, almost squealing aloud, sweat trickled down his forehead, waiting for the precise moment for her to discover him and dismember him. He couldn't even breathe.
Worry was weighing down in her voice as she repeated, "Loki?"
So many graphic scenarios were combusting in her mind, she began to feel sick and her breathing was becoming more rapid by the second.
There was still no reply.
She imagined some sort of monster busting through the door and massacring the injured demigod.
Quivering and now scared beyond belief, in a final attempt to save her wits Peyton shouted, "Loki!"
Loki couldn't take the pressure anymore and let out a muffled whimper.
Peyton's apprehensive visage completely eased and the worry lines and horrified frown melted away into the greatest look of relief supplied by an exhale and a countenance of utmost appeasement.
Unto her knowledge, her canines receded into her jaw to some extent like a retracting blade as she smiled, in a more mischievous way than evil as she sang, "I know that whi-ineeeee."
There was a little inhale and some dull shuffling and as she glanced about puzzledly, the noise had come-she covered her mouth and gave a silent giggle-from behind the couch.
Gotcha.
She tapped her and said with a sneaky air, "Hmmm, I wonder where Loki is?" she scratched the top of her head in fake confusion and said cheerfully, "*gasp* He seems to have gone missing!" and she slapped her hands to her cheeks.
"Woohoo, where art thou, Loki?"
No answer.
A sly grin slithered across her lips and as quietly as a mouse, cupped her hands, and tiptoed around the bend over to the sofa, and poked her head over the couch with a , "Well hiya!"
The following event made her seriously reevaluate her decision to do that.
Upon seeing the human child, Loki screamed like a four year old girl, and crawled away until his back hit the kitchen cabinet nearby, grappling up all of his injured extremities in one arm, and covering the surface of his face with the other hand.
Peyton, as opposite her usual, didn't get angry at him. Instead, she just stared at the terrorized figure in wary astonishment, reading his face for clues as why he acted that way. So far it was pretty normal for him to be afraid of her, but never this badly. This time he resembled that of an overgrown Chihuahua, appearing blatantly weak and feeble, trembling violently, and whimpering with eyes bugged out of average proportion.
Peyton wondered what had happened while...
Her eyes fell away to the fireplace, still charring away at the smoldering logs, burning as brightly as ever with as comforting crackle.
Peyton's heart stopped.
She realized she couldn't remember anything.
Wait. Hadn't I been sitting over there bef-
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rapacious itch flaming on her left wrist. Overcome with the violent urge, she scraped savagely at the vicious scar beneath her palms, leaving rakes of jagged red with her ferocious fingernails, panting with the fiery pain radiating from her arm.
Loki watched with growing trepidation as she scratched monstrously at this rough disk of scab on her wrist, beginning to feel very freaked out.
Breathing heavily, after scrabbling furiously at herself for a few seconds, took her hand away and gasped at the sight. Normally the scar was rather off-putting considering how horrendously ugly it was, but in this case it was revolting. No longer a deep pink, it turned a bright purple, feeling alight like fire set upon the weeping skin.
Staring at the fresh blood starting to peek out from the dry slits of her patch, Peyton felt quite amazed. Because. As a habit, she had nervous, beast-like bursts of itchiness on her wrist whenever something was really, REALLY amiss.
Peyton's eyes revolved from her wrist, to the hearth, to her wrist again, and finally upon Loki who looked as fearful as ever.
Unexpectedly, she launched her wrist into her mouth and sucked intensively at the immense rash, drawing the oozing blood out from the wound and between her lips. Lewdly, she tore it away and hissing, she explored the grooves and crevices with her finger, hoping that her deductive reasoning was false. Really really hoping.
She peered down again at her housemate on the floor, looking at her with such a way it made her want to just die.
Something was wrong. And, unfortunately, she had pretty good hunch what it was.
Out of the blue she cried out softly, "No."
She shook her head painfully slow and just echoed the same word, "No."
Her eyes widened with paramount incredulity.
No. I couldn't have-
She did and she knew it. All the evidence pointed to it. The fireplace. The blackout. The itch. His fear. All of it directed itself all the way back to her. And she knew this had to be really bad because she couldn't remember a darn thing.
She'd had another episode.
"D-I-D." she whispered ghoulishly to herself.
Loki stared at her in the greatest mixture of fear and confusion, not wanting her to get one step closer, wishing she would just get as far away as possible and leave him alone.
He was looking at her like she was some sort of beast. Like she had two heads.
And she was. And she had.
But which one?
Peyton's mind raced as she tried to figure out what could've occurred while she was unconscious.
Well...since he was still alive, she could automatically rule out one particular option.
He didn't seem to have a black eye or any bruises. At least any new ones that could have been made in the last few minutes. That was another off the list.
He was still completely clothed so that kind of summed up the rest of it.
So what had happened?
Peyton decided to try something.
She knew herself more than anyone did and who exactly liked to make sudden appearances when she least expected.
She sighed.
It was disgusting and totally not her, but she needed to try it, praying she would be wrong about all of this and was just worrying too much like she always did.
Taking a deep breath, all at once, she narrowed her eyes into narrow slits, pursed her lips, leaned slightly to the left, sited her hand sassily on her hip, and said suavely, purposely emphasizing her accent purred with a wink, "How you doin'?"
Almost immediately Loki squeaked and pressed himself closer to the wall and wrapped both his arms about his legs and cowered.
Peyton gasped aloud at this reaction.
Because he experiment proved accurate.
Oh no.
Peyton probably would have preferred the idea that someone else broke into the house and gave Loki a horrible fright. Because then she wouldn't have to put the blame on something completely different, herself.
Deriving from the way he recoiled from her the way he did, only left a singular culprit caught in black and white.
Secondary stage.
Peyton slapped both hands over her face and through her fingers gave a muffled chant, "No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Noooo-wuh!"
Loki jumped.
Why did it have to be her?!
She took away one of her hands, only revealing her right, deep brown eye, to his surprise, twitching considerably.
She opened her mouth as if to mention something but on a second thought, clamped it back shut.
Because.
What could she possibly say?
That was just it. There was nothing she could say. At least without sounding like a total looney, which she was certain he already thought of her.
Loki needn't know about that problem of hers.
Something that she kept so secret, and so hidden, she hardly remembered it herself. She was good, so good at hiding it. It had been several weeks in fact since she had a little outbreak, that time with Third stage.
She paused. She couldn't decipher who was worse.
They were all mendacious.
Two though, in particular, was an utter…tramp…and whenever there was an opportunity to avail herself, she would. At Peyton's expense.
Sometimes she would wake up in the weirdest places and the...most compromising of situations.
There was that time when she was in the storage room of that Chinese restaurant...
A chill climbed up her spine and she shivered she wagged her head to dismiss the memory.
She hated the awkward, empty feeling she got after one of her episodes. Not knowing what sort of chaos she'd caused. Having to apologize for things she wasn't even aware she'd done. She hated it.
Now she'd had one right in front of her new roommate. Specifically, a roommate with enough emotional distress to satisfy several suicidal personages, who had like-for real- JUST gotten to used to her. Had just begun to trust her and then...
Peyton grinded her teeth.
...then this had to happen. Shatter it to pieces.
Her breathing became quicker and unintentionally her hands balled into tight fists until her knuckles turned a bright yellow.
Loki's eyes piqued.
She felt a spring leap up behind her eyes.
Why. Why do they have to ruin everything?!
Peyton looked up from the floor and at the disturbed demigod and blinked back tears that she refused to release.
Loki observed her inner conflict in scared silence, unsure of whether to try and escape or just wait to see what happened, awaiting his timely demise with morbid curiosity.
Though there was something familiar...like something strange occurred when she was by the fireplace and again when she hit her head on the chair. It was all quite a debilitating quandary, for he couldn't decipher what it was. Before the collision, she was being very strange and gruesomely crude. It was horrifying. Her voice-her stride. It sounded deranged just entertaining the idea but even-her eyes—
looked different. A bit darker than they already had been. More mysterious. More hard. More cruel.
Peyton was peering down again straight into the floor, not knowing Loki was still observing her, calculating what could have occurred just a second ago and when she would attack again.
He saw her eyes. They weren't quite so black as they were a moment ago. Her body language read hurt and shamefulness. Not unlike his.
She seemed back to how she was before. Less confident, more concealed like usual.
But that meant nothing. In a second she could snap again. Condemn him to his death.
What did she do to you?
Peyton was still deliberating, wondering whether or not she should tell him, to try to explain all of this. Whatever 'this' just happened to have been.
They way he shook, something must have occurred, something to scar him this way.
Maybe that's how she'd ended up on the floor. Maybe he was trying to defend himself against her.
Though Peyton head throbbed a bit, and though it was her own body he'd injured, she couldn't help mentally commending him. Good. Good for him.
Maybe that's what made her cut out of it. Who knows what Two might have done if she'd stayed out any longer.
She shuddered once more, not wanting to think about it.
Peyton had to say something anything. But she couldn't explain to Loki those things. Not just yet.
Her mouth opened and this time she left it ajar for several moments in prolonged silence.
"Did she-," she shook her head and corrected herself before he could catch it, "-I mean, did I-"
She stared right into his earnest face that was waiting to hear her, and muttered sullenly,
"-hurt...you?'"
Loki was taken aback by such words. He was expecting something more along the lines of, "Well, it's time for me to kill you now." or "Any last words, you vile little creature?"
But she didn't.
Her eyes shimmered with the light of the dying embers in the hearth, finally beginning to reduce their flames to smolders. They ran across his bent body, not with intrigue, but with concern and guilt and worry.
That was Peyton. At least, the girl he'd known a few minutes earlier.
Loki wasn't sure what exactly she meant. He was able to escape unharmed. At least physically.
Yet there were so many questions that he had stirring around himself. Ones that frightened him to even think. But why was she asking? Why had she been talking to herself? Who were 'Pookie', 'Pookabear', and 'Kit-Kat'? What did she mean by, "I just wanted to play"? And why in particular had she been ready to...
He gulped.
Bite him?
It all had happened so quickly he entertain the possibility that he had fallen asleep for a while and dreamt the entire event. For he'd never experienced anything like that in his entire life. And hopefully, never again.
But it still stood firm that the true answer to Peyton's question was no, technically. So ever so carefully he shook his head no, daring to respond negatively to his assailant, praying that was the correspondence she wanted.
Peyton gave the longest sigh of relief in the history of mankind and had the strong drive to just drop down on her knees, spread out her palms, gaze up at the heavens and plead, "Thank you!"
So as a last ditch effort to relieve the disparaging term of awkward silence, she did just so. Per usual, making a scene in front of the poor houseguest.
Now on the floor, she folded her hands and applied them to her forehead, exhaling noisily through her nose. Though she just made a fool of herself-once again-all she cared about was that she didn't hurt him. She didn't hurt him. She didn't hurt him and that's all that really mattered. Of course, there were other things...
Moving her hands away from her face and taking a glance at Loki who , much to her delight, had ceased quaking, nevertheless continued to appear fearful, she rubbed her elbows bashfully, not knowing precisely what to do next.
She did know one thing. He needed to get off of the floor, it wasn't good for his legs and as he propped himself up on the surface of the back of the kitchen cabinet, it wasn't too great for his back either.
Lifting herself up off of the floor, she gave a quick scratch to her wrist before she exhaled, held out her hand to the man a couple of feet away and offered, "Do ya' want me to help you up?"
Naturally in response, Loki shrank away from the gesture, shook his head wildly, and drew backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on the direction of her hands.
Peyton lowered her arm right beside her shyly, and looked away morosely, feeling ever more guilty and shameful. She couldn't blame him. She wouldn't want to be touched by her either after whatever crazy things she may have done to him.
Her attention was drawn by Loki as her grappled the edge of the countertop to pull himself off of the ground, but crying out ,he failed miserably, falling on his side and writhing up his face and baring his teeth in agony.
She bit her lip, squinted her eyes, and winced for him. Knowing that one had to hurt.
Her eyes landed upon the coat rack by the door and without taking a second thought, rushed over and fetched it. With sounds of straining and she dragged it over, the metal rattling with the scrape of the hardwood.
She grimaced. Even the littlest of things she couldn't ever do quietly.
She made a face at the noisy coat stand. At least the stupid thing could be helpful for something.
Finally getting it behind the couch and in his proximity, gratefully he wrapped his hands about the pole, fought to pick himself up. It was agonizing to watch as he tumbled back down several times, but Peyton knew it best if she didn't assist him.
As he got himself positioned halfway, she couldn't take it any longer, seeing as he was struggling with sweat forming above his brow, about to fall again. Taking hold of his waist just as he was going to drop, she'd caught him right on time, though the slam of his sudden weight almost made her topple over.
"Ooof!"
And he desperately held on to her shoulder as his knees buckled beneath him, his legs giving way as he fought to stay upright, gravely afraid of hitting the floor again. Though he wasn't completely comfortable with her contact, he was thankful of her preventing his fall.
With one hand, he kept a stone grip on the now tottering coat rack and the other he had sprawled across her back, leaning terribly on her tiny frame. Embarrassed, he struggled to lift himself but in vain, he slumped limply over the five-foot-tall child, arm dangling helplessly.
Peyton would've laughed, but she felt that definitely couldn't and wouldn't make things any less difficult.
Without asking, she reached up with her right arm and with her thumb, attempted to pry his long, white fingers off of the metal rod with much frustration and tugging on his hand with straining noises. It was like trying to get a toddler to let go of the monkey-bars at the playground.
FINALLY, after Peyton somehow had gotten Loki to release his death grip on the beloved coat rack, he, with sheepish reluctance, allowed himself to fully heap his weight on her one side.
Peyton tried not to tumble under this new pressure. It was an awkward position and she could feel his body slipping, so, she did the only thing she could do and wrapped his other arm around her neck so as not to drop him.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, unsure of whether or not to move. Loki could feel heat rising to his cheeks and the light-brown tips of Peyton's ears darkened. Though neither of them knew why, they both felt explicitly uncomfortable, and neither of them was liking it. At all.
Wanting to dispose of the pressing tonnage on her person as well as the unpleasant situation as soon as humanly possible, wordlessly, she hoisted his body up with her left arm with her shoulder supporting his upper body, and began wobbling around the couch, grappling its edge with her free right hand so as not to falter herself.
Although his frame was exorbitantly thin, because of his height, majority of his weight was derived from his rigid bones, making the trip much more onerous than she had anticipated.
As she hobbled, Loki limped silently alongside her, she could feel the sharp ridges of his spine underneath her thin arm and his jutting ribs cutting into her bespeckled shoulder. He could feel her muscles rigorously attempting to hold him up, and feeling helpless and guilty, he held his breath, hopelessly believing that it could make his weight lighter on her little body.
On a totally different note, though she was straining to support the load with great strenuousness, she couldn't help thinking that she probably looked like a toddler toting a life-sized rag doll, limply leaning against the tinier being's person.
With a laboured moan and playful smile, Peyton muttered something that sounded like, "Man, I thought slavery had been abolished!"
Obviously unaware that Peyton had made a racial pun, he only deadpanned and felt shameful. In response, she scrunched up her lips with distaste, disappointed he didn't get the joke and that she'd most likely made him feel worse and waddled onwards in sobriety.
Reaching their destination, she untangled Loki's fingertips from her sweater which had dug themselves into her from fear of falling, making a couple of discouraging holes in the ribbed material as she unstuck them from her shoulder. Unwinding his arm from about her neck, she gently lowered him to the sofa and let him droop to the cushions, just a bit harder than she intended.
She made a crinkled face of pain for him.
Loki looked up at her with a half closed eye of agony.
She placed her hand on her lower back, and straightened her bent body. Biting her plump, bottom lip, she warped an empathic wince. "Sorry."
Loki gazed longingly at her with utmost gratitude yet a pulsing sense of confusion beaming out of his bright, bottle-green eyes.
What was wrong with this child? Why was she always apologizing?
Sure she'd lost a bit of her mind a few minutes ago and sure she had been about two seconds away from harming him and sure he felt like building a brick fortress about his person in case she tried to do it again. But. He had a feeling there was something else to blame for that. Something that Loki really, really, really, really didn't want to think about. Especially not after what had happened to him.
What Loki didn't know was that there was so much she needed to apologize for, so much she wanted to apologize for.
Peyton peered down at the injured figure seated on the long, tinsel-coloured couch, just as timid as a mouse, yet, though he was mute, she could read his glowing emerald eyes. They said 'thank you'.
She cracked a half-smile, faded with misery and briefly nodded a tired 'yeah…you're welcome—was the least I could do' thing.
Peyton rubbed her lips together and stood apart from him, listening to the shrieking winds stampeding against the foundations of the wee cottage house.
The air in the room hung thick and warm, almost cloudy, and both creatures held their breath so as not to expose their lungs to its swelter, staying still, silent, unmoving..
But the silence was harshly disbanded when Peyton gruesomely blurted out something that tore through Loki's head like a spear.
"I'm not possessed."
She had been searching for something to say to dispel the possible assumptions that he may have drawn from their little incident but it came out wrong. So very wrong. And now she would have to face the consequences of the upcoming event.
Suddenly, his body went rigid as stone with a poise of unadulterated fear, mouth slightly parted, staring straight ahead past Peyton for once, and his complexion turned to parchment, terror straining out of his eyes bugged out of his skull.
Startled, Peyton tensed up and swung her head apprehensively over her shoulder afraid to catch a glimpse at the terrifying abomination hovering over her and dripping viscous saliva on her hair from its poisonous fangs, panting its hot,putrid breath on the back of her neck.
But alas, and to her great preciptuousness, there was nothing behind her about to snatch her and consume her person one in one foul swoop, merely an empty flight of stairs, a tad bit of wall, and the single bathroom door.
No monster. But, apparently for the once-a-prince sitting on the grassy green sofa not three feet away from her, that was not the case.
Not two point five seconds later, something beyond all condensed synonyms meaning bizarre ,occurred in the livingroom, which from that moment on, Peyton had a feeling would be a habit with her strange little houseguest.
Peyton whipped herself around with the speed of a spinning top, to witness a horrendous development.
Without any warning whatsoever, Loki screamed with such a deafening shrill, that she was pretty sure that no six year old girl could have done a more impressive job, and cowered in front of some invisible beast, overcome with seizure-like quaking in a twisted heap, and buried his head in the space between the couch cushions with cries of muffled sobs.
"WE HAVE YOU NOW…."
Almost by instinct, without even having to think about it she,without delay, leapt over to his side and in a frenzy yanked his head up by his stringy hair and placed his face between her two hands, vibrating between her tiny brown fingers, snowy skin moist with endless tears, trying to shake him from his vision, and shouted hurriedly, panicked, "Pleasestopthere'snoonehere-YOU'RESAFE!"
It was like something out of a horror film. Not that she'd ever watched them of course.
He only continued to shriek like a wounded animal and Peyton tried tossing his shoulders about, yelling in his ear, and clamping her hand over his mouth to get him to stop his incessant wails but it only seemed to make things worse as he writhed against her advances and kept his eyes fastened, battling some imagined malignant foe.
Peyton had done everything she possibly could to rouse him out of his delirious state. Except one thing. She really didn't want to considering it would probably turn him even more maddened but she figured she didn't have a choice before she had a conniption and died promptly.
Taking a deep breath and pressing her lips together in distress, she somehow managed to get his head in her grasp once more, having to grit her teeth and bare her fingernails to keep him jerking away, she lifted her arm and swung it in the air and thwacked him across the face with a breakneck backhand assault.
His head snapped to the side with the power of the little black lady's slap and his eyes popped open.
(I have officially run out of large round objects describe the size of Loki's eyes so with that...)
His pale green eyes had the combined circumference and slash or surface area of softballs, soccer balls, basketballs, volleyballs, footballs (well they aren't round exactly), salad bowls, hula hoops, clocks dials, or the biggest rounded object you can think of, finally coming out of his prolonged hallucination, feeling rather heavy and wading between consciousness like the surfaces of dark waters. To see an alluring light only to plunge back into its murky depths of his trance.
He blinked as the apparitions of horror dissipated as his fuzzy vision focused in on the tan skinned human who looked positively floored, jaw extended like a hatch, bang onto the ground. Quite strangely her hand was raised haphazardly and for a moment, he wondered why.
For about three point six femtoseconds.
Then, like a MACK truck, his sense of being slammed over him as his face burned with the sting of a hundred bumblebees, the sight before his eyes dancing and glittering with beams of brilliance and darkness and he squeaked in pain. His finger shot up to his throbbing, cheek,still sticky and damp from tears, but drew it away with a hiss from its ardent smarting, staring dumbfoundedly at his rather...tiny assailant.
Meeting gazes with him, Peyton stumbled backwards, jetting away from the maniac, utterly scandalized, not because of the fact that she had just struck her new roommate, or the fact that there was a bright red handprint blinking on the side of his face in the stark contrast against the surrounding milky white skin, making it appear, with least amount of amusement, like something out of a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
No it wasn't that.
It was the fact that he had just had a deranged episode of goodness-knows-what-the-flip-that-was right in front of her face. Just when she thought she'd seen everything.
Loki's eyes paced about the quaint living area with trepidation, his chest heaving and tremoring with palpitations as he wheezed, pale face streaking with drying tears, looking like he was about serious asthma attack.
"Hey," Peyton coaxed gently yet sternfully, trying to keep him focused, "It's alright, everything's alright."
His gaze tore away from where they had last landed, the ceiling, and came across her at the sound of her voice and gave a startled mini-jump.
She exhaled but kept her eyes fixed onto his, so as not to lose his attention. She leaned forward a tad with uncertainty with equally widened eyes.
"You need my inhaler or somethin'?" was all she could say.
It took him a moment to register what she had said and to remember what exactly 'inhaler' was, but when he did, unexpectedly, he slapped his hand over his mouth and shook his head uncontrollably, with a minor gasp.
She groaned exasperatedly, clapped her fists over her forehead, and almost said something like 'C'mon my meds aren't gonna' kill you boy, chill the heck out!'. But clamped her lips together instead, because she was way smarter than to do that and just decided to keep her big mouth shut.
At least now Peyton knew when she was around Loki never to say the word po—Well ,yeah, that one word.
And along with that, she found herself even more insanely curious. Curious like I'm-about-to-shoot-myself-if-I-don't-find-out-abou t-this-guy-quick curious.
Just like you reader.
In accordance, Peyton let out a much-needed sigh and fell peculiarly weak, draining all energies out of her body out through her feet and into the dark wooden floors, the tired, ancient planks beneath her absorbing it thirstily.
Because. She had this queer air, this awful, haunting feeling that this night was just beginning.
And that made her thirty times wearier.
Sleep sounded so good right now.
Maybe she would awaken in her captain's bed in Apartment 3C and poke her head out of her warm, toasty quilt with the red flowers and purple dragonflies on it in her room and stick her hands out of the soft materials to feel the brisk morning air of winter in New York, and breathe in a sloppy yawn to greet her Ma, would smile that same, "Morning Pooka!" in that cheerful voice that told her in two words just how much she was loved. Like the past two weeks had just been one big, bad dream.
She pushed the clouds from her mind and was left with a cold, dry space.
Reality hurts doesn't it?
Her nose tinkled and she refrained from lowering her head in dispiritedness like she desperately wanted to because whether she truly believed it or not, she was here. In Asgard. Trapped.
She shivered with an involuntary inhale through her nose and rubbing her goose-pimpled forearms, pivoted her head to the dwindling fire, finally falling to sleep with the rest of the world.
Peyton only sighed again as she retreated to her maroon-pigmented chair as she remembered the melting heap in ice, which dwindling as well ,in the sink, and with a daunting reluctance, recalled what she was supposed to be doing this entire time.
For the past two chapters or so. Yeah.
Loki still looked, rather non-hypothetically, bent out of shape and needed her help. Whatever help she was actually equipped to offer him of course, though she knew that he really probably didn't want it.
Yet especially now, Peyton oddly and remarkably ,in quite an indescribable way, though she really wanted to deny it, suddenly felt more keen to…become more acquainted him. She figured primarily because, though she really wasn't so sure either, after the precendented events that…possibly…they could have a lot more in common than she'd originally thought.
Loki peered across the four to five foot chasm of ground that separated their two seats with a blooming dread the crawled up from his toes and pounded furiously with the pulse in his temple.
He wanted to tell her. He wanted to warn her. They were coming. Coming to kill them both. And she had no idea. Per contra, he couldn't say anything to her. If he spoke anything at all, a single word, they would find him. He must stay silent to stay alive. To keep them safe. For as long as possible, for eventually they will come, and they will die.
He shivered as well. But not of cold.
Because it was just a matter of—when.
With a grunt, Peyton forced herself out from the comfort of her favourite chair and stood before her riven housemate and said flatly, with less enthusiasm than the first time, making things even so more awkward between the unlikely pair, "So…still snafued, huh?"
This time, much more aware of what the definition of the unfamiliar little phrase than he could've previously, Loki nodded wearily in attrition, for it was much truer that time.
Nodding in agreement, since she'd already known his response before she'd even asked, Peyton exhaled once more, the floorboards swallowing greedily more of her remaining puissance.
Because her instincts were notably more unnaturally correct than they were normally.
The night was only just beginning.
Things are starting to get interesting.
Bet you've got questions now.
Yep. See I told you.
Ok guys. I'm about to get serious. Here's something you probably haven't thought about and if you have been thinking about this for a while...I'm sorry.
Has it come across to you that you are reading Chapter X (which is really fifteen) of One Hundred Days, and it is STILL Day One?
...
It's frightening isn't it?
The thing I'm wondering is...how are you guys still reading this? Are you not bored out of your mind? Are you not about to have a conniption out of suspense? Are you not bashing your head against a brick wall because, unbelievably, we still have NINETY NINE days left?
What I can't even begin to fathom is...how many chapters is this story going to have?
...
I'm scared.
What should I do?
Should I break it up into a Part One and Part Two? A Trilogy? A Saga? Or should I keep it as one big, muthaflippin fanfic?
Somebody give me some advice. PM or Review, just anything, because I seriously don't know what to do. Please. And thank you.
REVIEW! (To find out what happened to Loki!)