It had started out as just a routine trip between worlds to ensure that everything was continuing to run smoothly and according to his plans. Loki always had plans. It was just so fun to meddle where he shouldn't. Every little action he took had consequences foreseeable only to himself, and he made damn sure those consequences brought as much hassle down upon his father's shoulders as he could manage without arousing suspicions that their trickster of a son (or whatever he was to them) may not be as stone dead as he seemed.
Yes, being officially dead suited Loki very nicely, and it left him free of duties and with much more time for fun as a result.
So this shadowy journey between worlds was an everyday occurrence quite literally for the demi-god. However, upon initiating his travel, a strangely uncomfortable feeling started to creep up on him. Travelling through dimensions now, it took him an embarrassingly long time to place the uncomfortable feeling, though he didn't really blame himself for that. Yes, he was sure of it now. He, Loki, Prince of Asgard, full-blooded Frost Giant, was cold. Cold.
He smiled thinly at the irony of that and stored the feeling into his memory banks for future reference. The cold must be truly intense. This form of travel had recently been making him miss the safe, bright travel of the Bifrost, which annoyed him because it was pointless missing something he could not possibly do again.
He started thinking through some of his more elegant plots and schemes when he became aware of a presence besides himself in the shadows. Or rather, several presences. Now that was strange.
He had, from time to time, come across pitiful, lost souls left falling through the darkness for the rest of eternity. It was one of the reasons he preferred the Bifrost over this method of travel. He wasn't really the sentimental type, but there was something just deeply… sad about their fates. He didn't like to ponder it too much. Loki knew of a few – a handful – of others who could travel like he did now (he had to learn it from somewhere), but these presences were not on his list of known travellers, and if there was one thing that made the mischief-maker really nervous, it was suddenly discovering that there was something fundamental that he did not know.
The alien cold feeling was building and he imagined (or hoped he imagined) he could feel his skin starting to turn blue. He pushed ahead, adrenaline mixing with his magic to fuel his movements now.
This was taking longer than he thought. Surely he should be there by now…
"HALT, DEMON."
Damn.
"PRINCE AND TRAITOR OF TWO WORLDS. YOU THINK YOU CAN FLIT BETWEEN REALMS IN MOCKERY UNNOTICED?"
The voice belonged to not one, but many, and it seemed to reach his brain by means other than through his ears.
"What is it to you what I do with my time?"
His mouth and lungs shaped the words, but no sound came out. Strange. The shadowy figures seemed to hear him though, for they made a headache-inducing noise that was eventually interpreted as laughter. Loki winced and shook his head to clear it.
"YOUR PETTY DEEDS MATTER NOT TO USSSS. WE ARE BUT SCAVENGERS OF THE DARK. WE HAVE COME TO CLEANSE THIS PLACE OF YOUR TAINT AND FEAST ON YOUR SORCERY."
Scavengers? He recalled long ago, a warning, a whisper of a story. He had been told not to use the paths too often or predictably, for sometimes something (or somethings) watched. He had of course looked into it, but in finding no more information in any of the realms within his reach, he has dismissed the stories as folk legend to put his mind at rest. He had since used the shadows as he needed, or desired. He pushed ahead blindly with as much willpower as he could muster, which was a significant amount given the circumstances. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of being feasted on.
"YOU ARE FOOLISH. NO ONE KNOWS YOU LIVE. AND YOU SHROUD YOURSELF FROM THOSE WHO WOULD SEE YOU. YOU TRULY WILL DIE ALONE."
He could make out their shapes now, they were close. And he didn't seem to be making much progress. He lashed out at them with shards of magic, but somehow his magic didn't seem to make it out of his body. He made to reach for his dagger and realised he couldn't quite locate his arms. Very strange. The kind of strange that would have made a lesser man panic and start to yell, or to scream in terror and despair. But of course, he was Loki, and he did no such thing (much as he wanted to).
"WE THOUGHT OF TORTURING YOU WITH OUR DARKNESS, BUT YOU HAVE SUFFICIENT DARKNESS WITHIN YOUFOR THAT PURPOSE."
That horribly grating laughter started up again.
"ISN'T IT ELEGANT? BEING TAKEN DOWN BY YOUR OWN SOUL?"
Okay, he really wasn't seeing the elegance or the humour in this situation right now. This would have counted as a moment that required a change of pants except that his body seemed strangely not-present, or at least it was not properly connected to his mind. He was aware of himself, and also not at the same time, and it was confusing and not a small part frightening.
Fortunately, (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) he didn't really have to worry about this fear for long. It was suddenly replaced by a tearing sensation in where he imagined his chest would be and he was thrown head-first into the darkest corners of his mind, his being. His soul had been split open like his own personal Pandora's Box and his personal equivalent of Hel broke loose.
