A/N: Sorry for the long absence I have been having terrible writer's block. I've also been trying to get better at dialogue.
Song Suggestion: 8Graves Bury Me Low
When his vision clears he appears to be in a room, so different from his own but its purpose so eerily similar. In the middle of the room is a female, her body hunched over into a puddle of her own drool, her eyes stare unfocused somewhere to his right.
"Help me...someone please help me." the gravely female voice is weak and the desperation is palpable.
Loki's mind whirls, Who is this Midgardian and how is she able to do this, is this perhaps a punishment or test put forth by Odin? in the middle of his contemplation his audience finally notices his presence.
Fear, replaces the desperation, "W-who are you?"
Loki unsure if he should engage with what could be a trap hesitates, noticing in that exact moment he realizes his lips are no longer bound, before formally announcing his presence. "I am Loki of Asgard." no immediate reaction is visible, shocking Loki into another bought of silence.
"You're not one of them?" Hannah stares at the stranger in her room, the odd sensation that time has come to a stop allows her mind to come to focus in what feels like forever. The pain and fatigue miraculously disappeared. He is tall, slender, and dressed strangely. His coal colored hair curls around his shoulders, dark brows furrow over emerald, thickly lashed eyes. As if he feels her scrutiny, the romanesque nose crinkles and his thin lips turn into a scowl.
"One of whom?" the voice could cut ice, hinting at cruelty with no bounds, but the woman is still unfazed, but further conversation is cut off as a slight pain behind his naval snaps him back into his room.
What in the Nine Realms was that? around him the soft glow of the sun alerts him that only a few moments had passed, I sense no residual illusion... he splays his long fingers feeling the air around him No portal has opened... presented with a puzzle, Loki's mind quickly abandons all thoughts of food.
He gently parts his stinging lips, tongue flitting between them to taste the air for the tang of magic, but only detecting the warm flavor of aromatic herbs. He approaches the curved stone walls, emerald eyes searching for hidden runes among the textures of stone and mortar. Still no clues as to what would cause such a strange vision.
Before he could make any further attempts at searching, the stone door opens abruptly, startling the dark prince.
What...what the fuck was that? the heavy sensation of time returns causes a massive wave of nausea to overcome her and she begins to gag. Quickly Hannah scrambles to her small toilet and empties the contents of her stomach. As she dry heaves she senses she is alone and can't be sure if the "vision" was caused by stress, trauma or the lingering drugs still in her system.
Footsteps outside her door cause her head to whip sickeningly fast towards her bed and her feet follow, in order for her plan to work, she must act accordingly. Mere moments before the door opens she falls into her habitual stance, staring at the grungy wall.
James, the orderly, enters after hearing uncharacteristic sobbing coming from Hannah's room. Usually too medicated to do more than groan and rock in place, it was something that the Doctor would want to be investigated. Upon entering he nearly slips in a puddle. A series of grunts and quiet curses accompany his struggle to regain balance. Please be drool, please be drool. Eyes traveling downward he lets out a soft sigh of relief, the simple confirmation of drool is enough to chase away the instinctual anger he feels when a patient is in need of extra aid.
"Hannah, look at me", James' voice is gravely and nasally, when no reaction is given he roughly grabs her shoulder, slight flinch goes unnoticed. "Hannah." with a jerking motion she is spun around and she must force her face to remain slack.
Seemingly placated he emits a short huff and shoves her backward, gaining only minimal satisfaction as she topples over. He leaves and slams the door, not wanting to spend too much time away from his comfortable post in the nurses' station.
Hannah's breath of relief is much more forceful, her body trembling uncontrollably, but a huge shit-eating grin stretches her face. Her giddy feeling propels her hopes forward, and she begins to scheme. Step one in Operation: Pretend to be Sane Enough to Get the Fuck Outta Here is complete.
A royal guard steps smartly through the open door followed by a maid carrying an empty tray. Loki composes himself the best he can, straightening his back and glowering down his nose. He is an impressive sight...but the sneer that greets him tells another story. How I must look to these peasants...
As if able to read Loki's thoughts the guard raises his spear and motions towards the far wall. "Over there prisoner, the maid's here to grab your dishes." the Prince's eyes widen at the blatant offense but can say nothing, he can't even frown without his lips protesting, so quietly he moves towards the wall.
From behind the guard, the seemingly timid maid snickers and shoots a hateful glance at him. However a scowl sends her cowering back, and in her haste, she spills most of the uneaten shake on herself. The grin that slowly materializes on his face, pain be damned, is met by open hostility. They don't dare lay a finger on the imprisoned Prince but both spit on the floor in front of him.
"Monster..." a quiet voice whispers, and Loki's heart skips a beat unthinkingly he hurls a chair toward the closing door.
A monster am I? Shocking how easily these low-borns show their true colors. His hands are still shaking in anger when his stomach growls, reminding him he hadn't touched his food before they took it. Damn...it is at this point that his exhaustion hits full force and his knees buckle and his mind starts to fog. He stumbles to the bed and grimaces as he catches a look at his reflection, I believe a bath is in order before any sleep is to be had. He changes course and heads towards the bath, secretly grateful for this small mercy.
His hands clamp onto the edge as if it were a lifeline, the cool stone helps to clear his clouded mind. With a flip of the tap hot water gushes out, the steam gently curling around his face. Oh by the Norns... Already feeling slightly refreshed he grabs the box of nearby herbs and sprinkles them in, allowing the calming aromas to further clear his senses he gets undressed.
Strong shoulders shrug of his heavy overcoat, still covered in debris from New York, SHIELD never letting him change in the three months they held him for questioning. Barbaric little heathens. The heavy leather thuds to the floor and he sighs with relief, next he bends down making quick work of the buckles on his boots, his stockings follow. Nimble fingers reach up and unclasp the belt hidden underneath his black and gold tunic, the soft hide sliding sinfully against his pale skin. His tunic is the last thing standing between him and the steaming water currently filling the tub, impatience gets the best of him and he rips his tunic over his head roughly grazing his lips. Son of a WHORE! Slowly he straightens up, the pain having caused him to double over and grip the tub.
Wobbling knees remind him of his exhaustion and he steps into the tub and sinks down into the water. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull at the soothing quality the water sent over his aching body, while the herbs loosen his muscles. Without realizing it...he falls asleep.
She is surrounded, orderly's on every side grabbing her with iron grasps. They pull tight, lifting her off the ground, preparing to take her to a "treatment room".
"No! Stop!" she shouted, eyes wide and terrified. She screamed as they bustle her down the hall, her cries are echoed by the other patients. Finally arriving at their destination they shimmy into the small door frame and deposit her onto a padded table. Sweat slicked her entire body, from her shaved head to her toes. She doesn't stop fighting even after being roughly strapped in, her arms and legs flail to their fullest extent. From an outside view, she looks like a rabid beast, her eyes wide and rolling, her wrists and ankles begin to turn red and even bleed from her attempts at escape. Her mouth gnashes at the air, while her throat is seemingly ripped with howls and screeches.
A shadow passes over her face, and her struggles halt, with shaking breath her eyes lift toward the source.
"Hello...Dearest." it is Dr. Andrews, using a pet name reserved for these private "sessions", he reaches down and gently strokes her face only to be rejected with an inhuman hiss.
A frown appears and hand transforms into a balled fist, that slams into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs.
"Now Dearest, you must behave if these trials are to go smoothly", he runs a finger across her forehead as if to flip a switch on her behavior. It is unsuccessful.
"FUCK YOU! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" her breath has returned with full force. It should be a warning, the wicked smile that follows her outburst, but apparently, she decides to ignore it.
"What was that Dearest?"
"I said: FUCK-" his fist rams a gag deep into her mouth, she swallows blood from a cut on her tongue her screams muffled by the gag but the rage in her eyes is undeniable.
"I heard from a little birdie you've been refusing your medication..." Dr. Andrews continues, referring to the recent struggles surrounding her pills. Hearing it said aloud causes her to still, he takes it as an admission of guilt and his smile widens. "Well, well so there is some truth to the rumor. You are aware of the consequences aren't you?"
Her breath becomes rapid and her eyes roll, she has no memories of these "consequences" but evidently, her body remembers the pain as it begins to tremble violently.
"Now let us start the first trial." electrodes are placed along her body and several hands gravitate to places they had no business being. She struggles and growls until the hands retreat, next two large pads are placed on her temples.
"Let me explain what's going to happen, Dearest. I will be testing a new study I recently read about and you are going to be my lovely assistant." he approaches her with two, gel-covered diodes in his hands. "But first, James will you do the honors?"
James quickly comes to the side of her bed with a tray, on it is a large syringe and scissors. He takes the scissors and cuts away her flimsy gown leaving her in only the ugly underwear that the institute provides. He not so gently jabs the needle into her gut and injects a liquid that both freezes her veins and burns her bones. Oh, shit it hurts, it hurts, it HURTS! She thrashes as the pain moves outward from the injection site.
Dr. Andrews approaches and places the diodes on each side of her temples, on top of the pads. "Let us start with 230 volts shall we?", James merely nods and adjusts the knob on the machine accordingly.
Tears spring to her eyes and she silently begs for mercy, but she will find none from the orderlies or the Doctor. Electricity courses through her skull and her mind goes blank and her existence is only defined by pain.
Loki's eyes snap open, the water has lost all warmth and his skin wrinkled, Damn, that woman again? It cannot possibly be a dream...and I am quite certain it is not magic. Although in my current state I am incapable of being completely certain. Groaning, but feeling better than before, he raises himself from the tub, water pouring off him, rivulets flowing over the new scars on his back and sides. He avoids the mirror as he gets out, not wanting to see the reminders of his time with the Other. Tsk. Embracing the plush towel that awaits him, he removes the plug from the tub and returns to his small room, night has fallen over Asgard and he is wide awake. Drying off he glances around for replacement clothes, spotting a small alcove full of soft garments he selects a black shirt and matching pants. In this time he has made up his mind and turns towards the library, I will discover what these visions are, and their origin. Never again will I be another's pawn.
A/N: Well? worth the wait? Let me know!