The length of future memories
because Narugami didn't have to believe in Loki
On Midgard, Yamino's dreams are warmer. Before, the sun was a distant promise of light, filtered through cold waters -- now it burns overhead, bright and clear as recognition. Some nights the sky, too, burns in his dreams, and in the morning Yamino is left with confused impressions of noise and pain and a fiery heat that he has never known.
Other nights there is blood, but that too is warm, and not all of it is his own.
"Loki-sama thinks," Yamino starts, voice careful -- stops, tries again. "Loki-sama isn't sure if Narugami-san will insist on following the orders that Odin-sama has given him."
'Narugami-san' looks a bit taken aback by the politeness, but it doesn't stop him from stepping forward, bokutou off his shoulder and readied in one hand. "And what if I do?"
"Then Loki-sama does not wish to see you."
Narugami has to give Yamino credit for not backing down, but the show of bravado does nothing to dissuade him. He steps forward, ready to push past whatever ineffectual protest Yamino may make -- and finds Yamino's hand on his shoulder, surprisingly firm. The scent of lavender clings to Yamino's skin, incongruous; Narugami wonders absently if it's soap or detergent. He's certain it can't be from actual flowers.
"Loki-sama," Yamino says, and his voice is still careful, still entirely too calm, "does not wish to see you."
Heimdall shows up some days later, and Narugami is glad; he hasn't been making much progress, but Heimdall has his ways, and Narugami is sure they'll be able to carry out Odin's orders if they work together. And if nothing else, Heimdall is more experienced with foresight and omens. Surely, Narugami thinks, the white god will be able to explain the fragments that Narugami recalls from his dreams on Midgard: a calm gaze that is at once familiar and thoroughly unrecognisable, the shimmer of sunlight over deep green scales, death under a burning sky.