Darcy dips the rag in clean water as Loki enters the massive tent, flaps swaying in his wake. She barely looks up before her vision is bathed in violent red over dark blue. Everything is painted in blood. Scarlet drips from the tips of his hair while other strands stick to his face; scarlet also stains his armours and stretches over his skin. A grimace settles on Darcy's lips at the fearsome image Loki exhibits. He doesn't seem hurt, but she can't really tell with the protective coverings obstructing her view and the way he keeps himself tall and proud.
She beckons him over with a crook of her finger. His helmet meets the ground, followed by the chest plate and various other pieces of his armour. Darcy puts them away after cleansing the proof of Loki's victory off. Then she turns back to him, throwing the piece of cloth in the lukewarm water. Her attention is solely on him now as he sits down and lets her divest him of his blood-soaked tunic. The garment is flung away with little concern and the wet rag is retrieved in a span of five seconds. She is not hasty, just swift.
With feathery movements, the woman brushes water to his face, removing all the red, leaving behind clear, dark blue. The delicate ridges adorning his face are visible now and Darcy traces them with the tips of her fingers. Loki leans into her touch, a content growl quaking through him and seeping into her frame. The warrior is at peace now that the fight is over. She smiles and goes on with the washing. She sweeps and scrubs until all the blood is gone and the naturally blue skin takes its place. Satisfied with her work, Darcy puts the instruments away.
Two strong hands grip both of her sides and pull her into his lap. Loki's face breaks out in a grin, which is contagious as Darcy can't help mirroring it. There is something in his fiery eyes that makes her melt against him despite his customary coldness. One movement later, she's underneath him, dainty fingers tangling in sleeked back, raven hair. She can almost feel her pulse thrumming beneath his lips but the loud beating of her heart distracts her. Frosty lips brush against her own and she can't stop the mewl leaving her. The sound in swallowed by him.
Her hands move, as does his. At the end of the day, Loki is a man who, despite being a strong warrior, needs to get and give what everyone else does: love. If it means that she can hold him as she does now and burn together with him as one, she had no qualms with it. The world be damned, at Loki's side she can neither wish, nor care for nothing else, for anything else. He seems to be of a mind with her when he whispers, "Stop thinking, just feel." And he's back to stealing her breath away.