"I still don't trust you." He states halfway smiling while he straightens out his disheveled apparel.
"It goes without saying." She pulls her sleeve back upon her shoulder, and stares down to smooth out her cloak. Looking up, she notices that he has stepped farther away from her, watching her apprehensively. He witnessed the shivers run up her spine, the way her body swayed and her vision clouded as she had quietly peered up and made contact; his nose flares when his chest momentarily tightens while remembering the taste of her kiss. Turning away from her, poise in his steps as he walks off silently, he thinks to himself, silly little things…women. But, I suppose she might come of use. Stopping, he spins around slowly to see her still standing there observing him, a curiosity in her steady gaze.
"You still have not told me who you are."
A sad smile grows upon her expression, "It is difficult to say, my Lord."
Impatience grows in his tone; he puts his hand to his chest, and declares "I am Loki. See, that isn't so complicated, is it? Your turn," his arm sweeping out towards her. But, her lips tighten, the gloom in her eyes growing. "Here, how about you just finish my sentence then. One word, that's all that's required," he speaks contemptuously and continues in a mocking tone, "My King, who is most handsome and fearsome indeed, I am called…" He gestures his hand towards her once more.
Impatience flashes across her features as she strides forward, her voice deep and menacing as she replies, "I have no name, Loki. Do not ridicule me."
His face creases in skepticism, "No name? Do Explain."
She sighs impatiently, "I am not from this planet, or any of the others in the nine realms. Where I am from, you come to know another by a consented telepathic connection. It's a feeling of identity. And, once someone has let you in their mind, a name is decided based off of their individual understanding. One person has many names, one for each representation of the insight for every person they have let in. The more you trust someone, the more understanding they gain about you, and the name changes."
His brows rise, "Is that so?" He steps closer, a grin growing as he speaks, "Then let me in." His leer spread broadly. She stands there looking at him severely, "Please?" He asks playfully.
She swallows hard and her shoulders relax as she closes her eyes. He stands there for a moment perplexed about how exactly something like this is accomplished. Finally, he pushes his thoughts forward, a specific question in mind… what are you after… "You are not asking the correct question." She exclaims abruptly, "You must open your mind to the point of comfort based off the level of trust you have for me; my mind is open just the same. When you come in after having prepared your thoughts, you will find the answer you seek." She finishes quietly.
"But, I don't trus.."
Opening her eyes, "You asked me who I was; I told you that it was for you to find out and not for me to say. This is what I meant."
She starts to veer away, but he reaches out and grabs her arm. She turns her head back to glimpse at him, and sees that his eyes have closed. Immediately, she senses him inside her mind. He hits against a few shut doors, but takes in the information that she is willing to share with him. Finally opening his eyes, his manner much less suspicious, he lets go of her arm. He faces away, saunters off and wearily sits down, staring off into the distance, a little off put by the intimacy of the exchange.
"Well, then. Do you have a name?" She says, her voice on the verge of meekness. Glancing over, he notices the cringe in her stance, her arms folded tightly in front of her chest. The familiarity of the act made her restive as well.
His attention returns to the horizon, and after a moment, he utters uneasily, "Eira."
Comfortably cold, biting but soft…serene like sorrow but angry as a storm…how can a mind feel like anything, especially that? How can it amount to one intricate word? He thinks to himself, gazing ahead impassively. His jaw tightens, but otherwise barely taking heed, as she leisurely rests alongside him.
After some time she speaks, "You will be imprisoned soon, you know this. You have already made vast oversights in this battle. While the heroes of this world clean up the remaining mess you have made in this city, you have been granted a few moments of peace, but they will return shortly. There is nothing I can do to stop this."
"Oh my, you are proving to be so helpful already. I'm certainly glad to have you around." He states, guile mixed with slight despair in his tone.
"It is a necessary lesson."
"Indeed." He replies sardonically while wiping dirt from his cheek. "What a blessed lesson."
She laughed unhappily, "Don't be so down. You're the God of Mischief after all, aren't you?"
"A God of Mischief, am I really known as that?"
"After all this? You are now."
He takes in a deep breath. "Very well. I suppose I will be seeing you again?" He asked casually.
She leans over and kisses his jaw just under his ear and whispers, "Undeniably." After a pause she continues, "I must be going."
"Then go." He retorts bluntly. "Are you expecting anything more from me?"
"No. Not currently." She stood, wiping the debris from her coat.
There was a sudden crash nearby as Loki's enemies landed on Stark's outside balcony. He glances over to see her gently disappear as she strolls off. Crawling to the next step, pulling himself up with his arms, he tiredly glowers up and finds the group standing over him, the archer pointing an arrow directly aligned to pierce his eye. Ignoring the threat he bears his interest away, and offhandedly announces "If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now."