Thanks so much you awesome Gods of mighty reviewing power! You are amazing and left me totally amazed! I only wish I could repay you by an equally entertaining continuation. So for the God of all Pranks, I do hope you enjoy!
Still Loki's sardonic POV (might interchange in future chapters with others). Sorry if plot progress seems slow here, but be assured that eventually I do plan to veer off the Thor movie.
CH2 – I swear I'm not doing that on purpose
Ah yes, those generously over-exaggerated and tirelessly revered legends and fairy tales that had plagued his entire life. His father had been full of them and always ready to drill them into Loki's very much unwilling head. Not that Loki didn't have a penchant for learning, quite the opposite, but he much preferred facts, not tales told by ear and diluted to laughable falseness when passed from one generation to the next. So it had been during those highly educational times when Loki had tried his best not to listen, devising evermore improved ways to block his brain from being exposed to such a mind-numbing nonsense that painfully lacked in any authenticity whatsoever.
Sadly to say, even after resorting to methods of near self-deformation by wearing a rather tight and hearing impairing headgear of his own designs, he still failed to filter out the endless droning of his father's booming voice. Well, perhaps one could not help but to capitulate eventually, when being told the same cumulus of tales for the five thousand and second time. It simply ceased being worth the effort of continuous resistance.
So now, blessed with all that useless knowledge, he could not help but recall and mock one of such ridiculous legends as he lay there feeling his consciousness glimmer on the edges of the dark. Because if this so called legend were true, then should he had been slain, the Valkyries would have taken him to Valhalla. Well, of course they would, since he was a worthy warrior after all. But a concern of his was that Valhalla was meant to be an honourable place, or so his father had said. Honourable. Indeed. That was if one wanted to indulge in a perpetual torment of pain and endless, mindless bashing of someone else's enemies' heads in thankless servitude to his ruthless, pretentious father. Really. What more could anyone desire?
In all honesty, Loki would gladly forego such a great honour, for idiocy did not course in his blood.
He had to give it to Odin though. His father's talent truly excelled in disguising his selfish motives underneath the pretence of an honour beyond all imaginings which enticed too easily those of more simplistic minds. No surprises there that Thor could not wait to be whisked to such a splendid place of no fun whatsoever. Loki, on the other hand, would rather spend the end of his days in Helheim itself, playing tricks on the unsuspecting inhabitants of the underworld which did seem so much more enjoyable.
Just as well then that he was not one to believe in such tales and legends, unless he had gained an experience of them himself, seen them with his own two open eyes, knowing that his mind was not conjuring a mere image of what someone else wanted him to see. No, that prerogative was entirely his.
And that was why he had turned to logic on occasions such as these, when deliberating the possible outcomes of his likely demise. And logic informed him that the light that tried its very best to permanently blind him as he opened his eyes a little too fast and way too unwisely, did not hold a resemblance to the dark, golden glory of the fabled Valhalla. That place was not meant to blind its warriors, but to sharpen their skills, after all the very point of becoming prepared, not visually impaired, for a heroic fight, afforded to one after an equally heroic downfall.
That said, Loki was pretty certain, or rather praying, that no tales would be loudly articulated about his said heroic downfall, well, considering that he went down more like an unsullied maiden beholding her first sight of Thor. Yes, the shame of his unsightly demise shall haunt his pride for a very long time to come. Perhaps best to digress by figuring out where he actually was, since not in Valhalla.
So going back to this light, it possessed this unnatural sharpness and cold whiteness, the opposite of the sumptuous warmth and golds of the Asgardian glow. Therefore it could have been safely concluded that he was still unquestionably stuck on Midgard, and he was still very much mortal by the damnable agony coiling in his chest, and to add insult to misery he had been captured as well. How wonderful.
Yet Loki was never one to turn to mindless acts of desperation, he did not have Mjolnir for a brain, he had an actual brain inside his head. And being gifted with the power of an educated thought afforded him the use of his perceptive, narrowing eyes to look around, analyse his new surroundings, and come up with a plan.
Not that the said surroundings provided much to analyse. As the room he found himself in, or a better description would be a poorly measured boot within his smallest of closets, was of the most restrictive of sizes he had ever experienced. In fact, he had not experienced a space this short on accommodating any dimensions whatsoever. Even the posterior-squeezing turret of Heimdall's observatory yielded more elbowroom than this banquet of claustrophobic delights.
More disturbingly, he found himself placed on something so dreadfully uncomfortable that a bed constructed from extra frosty Jotunheim icicles would have provided more comfort on first imagination. Added to the count of maddening discomforts was the worry-inducing sight of the primitive and noisy instruments dotted around the room and the horrific unearthly waft of pongy chemicals staging a contest on his limits of tolerance.
And this was meant to constitute a healing facility? Distress and repulsion more came to his mind. Have the race of humans not heard of the simplicity of healing stones? At the least they were odourless, and conducive to actual healing, not an inspiration to suicidal deliberations which had quite the opposite desired result in his not so humble opinion.
With all that messing up his perfectly levelled head, Loki was about to make for the door to go and find Thor and get the hell out of this utter madness, when his eyes landed on a chair. An inadequately sized, metal framed chair lacking in style of any kind, which was the completely unsurprising part from what he had discerned thus far. But the shocking part, which was what paused him in mid-move from the bed, was what lay thrown over the chair.
His exquisite, immaculate royal garb. All of it. Which disconcertedly meant…
Face snapping into a stern, resenting denial, Loki begged his eyes not to gain a reason to expand as they slid lower, slowly, finally landing on his whole noble self... Eyes wider than the staggering girth of Volstagg, Loki recoiled with a horrific groan that tore from his constricting throat at a view of his worst indignations. It was, without reservation, just like that one time in Vanaheim when he and Thor had battled valiantly a gigantically antlered beast, when Thor's overenthusiastically-swung hammer had caused the impressive endowment upon the creature's enormous head to sway an unfortunate way and with a surgical precision disrobe Loki's perfectly fitting trousers.
At the time, he had almost, almost degraded himself further by begging Odin to erase from him the memory of that particular undignified incident, yet his pride eventually, thankfully prevailed. But this, this was so much worse. He had been this close to being hauled to Valhalla in, in…an inferiority of cotton! In a polka-dotted dress! Preposterous. He was neither a peasant nor a woman, especially not a peasant woman! He was a God, and a prince of a noble race, with certain style and standards to uphold, for Odin's sake!
Appalled rage simmered inside of him at the distaste and indignity of it all, his hands curling into tightening fists. A spontaneous boiling inferno surged from his very soul and rushed outward along his veins, finally dispelling out of the very pores of his skin. This world would pay for this indiscretion and insolence! The instruments and chair went flying across the floor, crashing against the walls, broken and sparkling with hissing electricity.
At that, Loki stared in complete silence, his interstellar wrath suddenly forgotten. Now, this was interesting…
He gazed at the lingering vapours of translucent green curling out from the tips of his fingers and soon a widening smile spread over his curving lips. His magic was not taken away from him. Of course, how could it? Odin had been able to rip out their Asgardian powers, but Loki's magic was his own. His sorcery was as part of him as his well-formed behind and not even the Allfather had the power to strip that off of him. Not that Odin should necessarily wish to do such a thing. That would have been deeply disturbing, and utterly blasphemous.
But moving swiftly on from that dreadful image forming in his head, Loki lowered a hand and spread his fingers to trace them over his swollen ribcage and let the heady breath of magic do its healing work. Liquid warmth spread through his bones and muscles, soon dissolving the pain completely.
At the elated feeling his expression moulded to its most wicked. At long last. This was becoming promising, foretelling of some rewarding fun. Inclining his raven head, his smirk grew as with one gesture of his wrist his royal garb shimmered away from the floor and wrapped itself over his much better feeling self, the cotton unpleasantness now crumpled in his hand, completely at his mercy. And he knew just what to do with it.
Loki stood up from the gurney and straightened up to his full height, raking a hand through his long, pitch-black hair to smooth back the dishevelled strands. He then closed his eyes with chin raised high as he made an intricate pattern with his wrist like an orchestra conductor performing his most beloved piece, turning round to inspect the masterpiece he had composed with a sly twinkle of retribution reflected in the dark emerald of his opening eyes.
It was only appropriate, after all. The Allfather deserved a little recreational repose after all that stress his disparate sons had put him through….and, Odin did have a special gift for laying down and napping for prolonged lengths of time. So Loki let him rest on the meagre bed in his stead, garbed in the splendid opulence of the polka-dotted one-piece that hung so lavishly from his neck to bare knees, a content smile plastered on his father's snow-bearded face.
Hmm. Almost a perfection. But still, there was something missing. How could he, oh yes of course…
Loki tapped a finger to his narrow bottom lip for a moment, and soon after the magnificently golden helmet whizzed to life on his father's head, the mighty Gungnir shimmering to its horizontal existence in the grasp of his crinkly hand. Now, that was a sight to behold!
Feigning a deeply troubled, thought shadowed face, Loki bowed to the life-like illusion. "Truly, father. You could have simply asked should you require me to babysit Thor. Yes? After all, it is why you have sent me here, is it not? As I fail to fathom any other reason. Yet should one exist, rest assured I will entertain my best endeavours to learn from this beyond useless lesson, whatever in the Norns' bosoms it is meant to be," Loki divulged to the perfected image of his father as if talking to the real Odin, injecting his most talented sarcasm into the smooth silk of his voice, a palm pressed stretched against his heart in a deeply considerate gesture.
"But now, I must leave you. For this world it appears -" he looked about the plain, uninspiring room with a flair for the dramatics and with a sardonic arch of his ink-black eyebrows, before continuing, "- is in a dire need of my great and invaluable guidance. Very, very badly."
Departing with a stride worthy of a king, he cast one final glance towards the Allfather, giving him his best smile and a mocking bow. He would store this image in his head for later, of course, for his own collection of worthy memorabilia and a well of inspiring illusions. After all, was not his father's birthday celebration coming up soon? He did so love to lighten them up.
Hands clasped loosely behind his back, Loki made his subtle way through an empty corridor, thinking how best to locate Thor. Scouring this meagre place would not create a challenge, but he needed a way to blend in, not stand out like a sour Jotun in human pyjamas. And for that, he required the power of observation and a great deal of luck in actually encountering some more fashionable humans. That was if those in fact existed?
Nonetheless, he deemed it shrewd to stop at the nearest window and look outside, observing for a while in hope that there was someone in this squalid hellhole with some sense of style. His patience paying off, Loki's dark grin played across his face as he eyed a man wearing something vaguely smart lean against a black and brandished mound of metal surrounded by strangely tinted panes of glass. There were three more all equally clad, perhaps some sort of a niche fashion within this otherwise paltry place. Though the men also wore something against their faces, blocking their eyes in their entirety which Loki shrugged off as completely bizarre since he did not see the point in not seeing anything at all.
His gold and green leather attire then flickered in a translucent glow of an emerald light, transforming into a two-piece black suit, tailored to perfection of course while also lengthened, with a silk white shirt and a matching black tie tucked underneath, adding on his own touch of a gentlemanly scarf edged with green, wrapped loosely round his neck and hanging down his front. Oh yes, much better.
Continuing on his elegant stroll while studiously taking in every detail of the human world, Loki began his quiet search for Thor. Although he could not help getting rather intrigued by the written signs he encountered on the walls and ceilings. What a splendid invention! He made an instant mental note to pin one of those for 'Exit' to the outside of Thor's bedchamber doors once they were able to return back home. Well, Thor did have an infatuated habit of welcoming just about any pretty face into his royal bed, might as well direct everyone there and save his brother the bother? Well, just a thought.
Passing along yet another boring and uniform corridor, Loki suddenly paused at the distinct sound of breaking glass, loud scattered shouts and a general commotion of an unfolding fury of a fight. Ah, that must have been where Thor was. He should have known to utilize his hearing rather than just eyesight! Loki shifted himself into a slow reverse, directing his unfazed expression to the side.
Soon enough, Loki could not help himself but to turn fully and donate his undivided attention to the small square window embedded into the flimsy looking door. The scene there was so indescribably entertaining.
To his slight mental torment, Loki could not decide what was worthy of more appreciation, the alarmed and befuddled faces of the six unimaginatively dressed humans who struggled hard to restrain his wildly raging beast of a brother to no avail, or the perplexed and steaming fury etched on Thor's reddening face when he, for the life of him, could not get rid of them with one simple sweep of his massive arm.
Had Thor been hit so hard on his head that he still had not caught onto the small detail he was now mortal and relatively powerless? Not that this should ever stop Thor from thrashing up the place and throwing some humans around. Not at all. Mjolnir or not, Thor was still a force to be reckoned with and Loki would thoroughly enjoy this re-education of the insolent humans who dared to keep them both in this hovel of a place and clothe them so disgracefully.
Only Loki had to flinch away from his musing as Thor's puzzled face was smacked cheek first into the glass, shock evident in his raging blue eyes as he cast a wide-eyed look at Loki, who was stunned right on the other side.
"May I enquire as to who is winning, dear brother?" Loki thought it best to check, throwing on an expression of genuine interest as he observed the square filled by his brother's smudged and horrified face. Right. They were.
"You are no match for the Mighty…" Thor bellowed once more in fatal defiance before his grimace, worthy of a whole new tale told over a few goblets of wine spilled during an Asgardian feast, started to slide down the glass.
"Match for what, exactly?" Loki was curious to find out, but then sucked in a sharp intake of air at Thor's surprised twist of his mouth, finally following with raised eyebrows in astonishment as Thor toppled downwards and out of his sight.
Oh, that was unexpected, Loki deduced safely after a split second evaluation of Thor's unprecedented demise, yet still readied to storm in to his brother's rescue, once again. Old habits, he supposed were nigh on impossible to wipe out, even with magic, and he had so tried. But his rescue attempt was hindered as the door slammed outwards fast, close to splitting his nose in two, was it not for his proactive, scarily instinctual teleportation.
Loki remained shadowed by the vale of spells as a horde of running human beasts then tore through the door and spilled out into the corridor, eager to get away. Well, he supposed he could somewhat sympathise. Admittedly, Thor, wrapped in a knee-length ladies gown was not the most inspiring of views, even his father appeared far more appealing, and that was saying something.
The more reason that Loki had to get him out of there, and try to knock some sense into his excessively stubborn and belligerent brother. Oh, the things Loki had to endure. If Thor for once listened to his ever so wise council, they would not have to face the perils of such indignity and shame.
Perhaps a little lesson in humility would not hurt…
Loki morphed into visibility and transferred himself through the wall. He stayed watching over a sleeping Thor while assessing how best to take charge of this seemingly unruly and badly dressed world of humans, if not going for a straight out worldwide domination which might have been for the best. Still, that could take a while, and even that shortly interesting preoccupation became rather boring and he ended up shifting restlessly in his chair. Well, he could have relaxed more if the chair he was sitting on did not in fact feel like the sharp and barren surface of Svartalfheim.
Loki sighed. "The things I do for you, brother. I fail to fathom." He leaned closer, nearly nose to nose with Thor.
And of course, as if on cue Thor opened his eyes straight at Loki, instantly recoiling as if seeing a crossbreed between a Frost Giant and a Slippy, the eight legged horse. Beside the point but who'd ever conjure a thought of such a horrific and distasteful union?
"Out of the non-existent list of things that frighten you, Thor, I never imagined it would be the sight of me. I find that rather offensive," Loki sighed dejectedly, inclining back in his uncomfortable chair, the sly smile creeping up his face betraying his true sentiments.
"Loki?" Thor blinked away his confusion, squinting at his brother.
"Yes?" Loki responded patiently, seeing as Thor also discovered his restraints, starting to pull at them to no avail.
"What have you done to me?" The God of Thunder's thundering voice was back again as he struggled against his ties like a maddened Bilchsteim giving a difficult birth. Really? He did this to him?
Loki made a royal eye roll. "Honestly brother, I thought that even you would have gathered an insight into the situation by now. But since you have not, allow me to reiterate. Father took our powers, our immortality," he paused considering something with a thoughtful gesture of his head, "your clothes, and cast us both out. And you blame your dear, loyal brother? As I recall, you hurled the words old fool at the Allfather, amongst other well placed treason-worthy delights thrown rather irrationally at the most powerful being in the Nine Realms. So well done, Thor, for you have single-mindedly caused our banishment and now got yourself eternally entrapped in these very much unbreakable restraints, though I must admit, this whole new look suits you tremendously."
Thor paused a moment at Loki's heavily weighing words. He had been so focused on his fall from grace and the lingering thoughts of a battle as a way to solve everything, he had not yet even glanced at himself. Be it inwardly or otherwise. Until now. Unfortunately seeing the outward visage first, Thor started to thrash on the gurney harsher still, teeth coming out for extra support of his regenerated rage. "Get me out of here! Get me out of here now!" He roared with all his anger and might tearing out of his throat together with the words.
Shaking his head, Loki sighed for the umpteenth time ever since - well ever since his consciousness had first allowed him to perceive his brother's existence. "Of course, since you ask so nicely." Loki reached down and unfastened the tied straps from the big guy's wrists with dignified ease.
"Unbreakable restraints?" Thor gave him a murderous look but seemed to have ceased his wayward endeavours, pretending to act natural as he sat up on the bed.
"Well, I did not say undoable," Loki dismissed with a nonchalant shrug.
"Thank you," Thor said calmly for once, to Loki's surprise and a relief in equal measures.
"And now, give me some clothes," Thor commanded with an enthusiastic and jovial zeal like the king he forgot he wasn't, to Loki's returning embitterment.
With an inward sigh, Loki adorned Thor with a flippant shake of his head. "What? I am not giving you any of my clothes. For you should have exhibited more prudency in keeping yours. So go and find your own."
"Loki," Thor cleared his throat, seemingly noticing that he erred. "You know well what I meant."
Of course, Loki did. But he would never miss a chance like this. Not in a trillion years.
"Really? No, I truly don't. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?" Loki arranged his face into an expression underlined by complete confusion as he inclined his head at Thor.
Thor appeared uncomfortable to Loki's hidden feeling of triumphant satisfaction.
"I need your help, Loki," Thor professed finally after a pregnant pause, blue eyes shifting away in disconcertion.
For a moment Loki felt something akin to sympathy for the golden brute, but that was not what his brother needed. He was rather proud of him though, for being at least capable of some semblance of appreciation, despite it being rather forced upon him with the help of some healthy manipulation.
"What? Would you care to repeat that? I am afraid I did not quite catch that." Loki turned his ear to Thor tartly, invisibly smirking. Still, he was going to enjoy this rare event. Thor had not the habit to need his help and an even lesser habit to admit to it if he had.
"Please brother, bring to bear what you can to get me out of this…terrible degradation," Thor's voice was the epitome of awkward as he pleaded uncomfortably, tugging at his pretty gown of the latest human fashions with his large and manly fingers.
"And what is it that I can…bring to bear?" Loki would hear his brother say it even if this meant he would be later hammered to bloody pieces of regret, once Mjolnir decided to cease its vacation from Thor's Godly presence. So hopefully never.
"Magic, Loki. Use your magic and tricks," Thor ground out through his teeth with an askew face as if he had just swallowed an Asgardian citrus fruit.
Loki, on the other hand, tasted a chocolate covered cherry dipped in double cream, which is what his face was properly, thoroughly projecting. After all, this was to be celebrated as a sweet victory over all those favoured moments of Thor's when he had mocked his dark brother's even darker magic so readily and openly. Oh, glorious days indeed.
"Tricks, Thor? Why, I was held to the impression that my tricks were beneath the might of any warrior of Asgard. Do you not revel in showing off your best attributes? Though looking very fine indeed, may I make a small suggestion as to wearing your ever so sophisticated garment the other way around so as not to scar Heimdall for life should you find the need to bend over?" Loki made a circle with his long, slender finger for effect.
"Loki! Stop this travesty this instance!" Thor put some thunder and lightning into his voice, no longer willing to partake in Loki's apparent charade, any sense of appreciation long forgotten. Pity. Loki almost felt proud of his small achievement, no matter how unappreciated it was.
"As you wish." The God of All Fun waved his hand finally in defeat, and…clothed Thor in something much more appropriate.
"Thank you," Thor said almost gratefully, looking glad that Loki came to his senses.
That was until The God of Thunder thought it prudent to inspect his newly appointed garb.
"LOOOOKIIIIII!" Thor roared in outrage at the detriment to his manliness, not the least thrilled at the frill and the tightly clinging lace his pink dress provided. Well, it did hung ever so snugly over his enormous chest, at least in Loki's encouraging opinion.
"Should you not dress me properly this instance, I shall forcefully betroth you to a horse. Once I am the King, that is," Thor added the last statement somewhat less confidently, realizing that particular shortcoming of his threat.
"There is simply no pleasing you, brother. But should I ever become interested in horses in such a manner, I shall let you know. In the meantime, were you attempting a blackmail?" Loki sent Thor a hurt face that belatedly quirked into a wickedly impressed smile. "Well done. There may be a hope for you yet."
Seeing as he in fact lit up Thor's murky face, Loki let out a sigh while extending his forefinger and letting the air ripple with magic around Thor.
Loki could not help but laugh out loud as he saw the vivid apprehension engraved in Thor's countenance when he dared to take a peek at what he was now wearing, the subsequent relief resembling a shine of molten gold in Thor's brightening face.
"Happy now?" Loki thought it best to obtain an affirmative before his overzealous, tempestuous brother would find his clothes a good reason to start another war. One realm was enough already, in his generous opinion.
"It will suffice," Thor declared back in his arrogant-self, getting up from the bed, clad in brown boots, tight-fitting dark blue jeans and a looser but still very much flattering plain T-shirt in the shade of sapphire blue.
"You are welcome. I deemed it best not to arm you in your usual attire as I still very much value my life. The humans we encountered thus far were not entirely friendly," Loki pointed out, not that Thor seemed so much as bothered about his new garb now, looking ever so optimistic, as if not wearing anything pink and frilly would transport him back to Asgard.
"You may be as well speaking the truth. I do recall some unusual happenings," Thor admitted with a nod and a smile, still apparently puzzled by the whole ordeal that floated somewhat fuzzy in his head. "I see you have already acquired a disguise of your own, though I do not recall anyone else here wearing such a thing?" Thor gestured to Loki's very much human but in his seeming opinion unfitting and an overly excessive getup.
"Yes, and by anyone, do you by any chance mean the subservient humans operating this meagre facility?" Loki expressed pointedly, as he was as sure as Odin's beard not going to run around an inferior planet in anything less than marginally elegant. He would have stuck with his armour, yet a human acceptable wear was considerably safer than to feel twice in a row like an electrified pond creature, Loki safely concluded.
"Point taken. And now we shall finally return to Asgard," Thor exclaimed and started to depart, head held high, his bulky form swaying as he strutted with a generous gathering of ostentatious arrogance.
"Indeed we shall, but might I suggest we first acquire some sustenance? You know, considering that Asgard is a fair distance away and it may possibly take a short while?" Loki argued sensibly, at least he thought he did. After all he had no intake of food or drink ever since turning some wine to eels, spoiling Thor's coronation and committing treason out of sheer boredom, going to war and nearly freezing to death, being banished across half of the eternal universe and finally being rendered unconscious by a Goddess of all electric torments. It most certainly felt like a half a century already and Asgard was the second half of a century away no doubt, given that they were technically not allowed to return there in the first place. A minor detail, but nonetheless.
"Yes, this mortal form has grown somewhat weak. Let us go and find some sustenance," Thor considered with a half-turned blond head, rubbing his belly eagerly with one giant hand. On sudden impulse, Loki prayed that Earth maintained a large enough stockpile of roast beast to satisfy the undoubtedly multi-dimensional appetite of Thor in his mortal form. Otherwise, Odin save them! Yet again.
Thor's stubborn resolution and recent events swimming in his head, Loki considered it best to warn Thor of the potential dangers before venturing out. He placed his hand over Thor's enormous bicep to turn him round, and exhaled an imploring breath. "Just before we go out for you to eat everything in sight, may I advise you not to attack everyone on first encounter? You know, the humans may actually be inclined to talking instead."
"Do not fret, my brother. I was unprepared and ambushed by too many to handle easily. I assure you that shall not happen again," Thor indeed assured him of doing exactly what he was worried about, to Loki's never stopping exasperation.
"That was not what I…" Loki tried to say but found himself already talking to Thor's vast expanse of his back, the rest of Thor disappearing in a fearless strut towards the bright glow of the exit.
At the last moment before Thor vanished from his view, Loki flicked out a finger and a prettily written 'Kick Me' appeared in large pink letters right across the back of Thor's wide and rippling shoulders. Well, he was literally asking for it, might as well help him out.
"Right behind you," Loki grinned evilly as he followed Thor out of the useless healing facility and stumbled out into the scorching sun of the earthly planet, being blinded yet again. He'd really have to do something about this, perhaps conjure some black matter above his head for shade? Though that may not have been the most low-key tactic right now.
Not that Thor was terribly low-key to start with, employing his inexplicable yet rather customary impulse to charge straight ahead without having a clue as to where he was, or where he was headed. Perhaps stopping once in a while to look around and asses the workings of this foreign village they seemed to have been taken to would have been prudent?
They had found themselves on an alien planet full of dangerous and possibly deadly inhabitants and yet Thor marched right through like he owned the place, the memory of his mortality and hammer-less status not settling in at all. As admirable as his intrepidity was, soon enough, Loki's mental misgivings have been thoroughly justified.
Out of his musings whilst also searching for a tavern of sorts, Loki spotted through his sensitive perception as an enormous beast clad in metal armour began to take off fast and charge straight at his godly brother.
It was a subconscious, utterly idiotic yet natural instinct that made him blindly leap at Thor and shove him out of the way, shimmering off a split second too late. Damn his mortal reactions and Thor's still immortal arrogance. The thing smashed right into his flawless face and knocked him hard onto his back to an even harder ground, adding a jiggling pain to his bones.
"Brother, I am at a loss for words," Thor appeared taken aback for once as he realized what had tackled him and why at the last moment, seeing Loki grunting on the ground next to the big fat legs of a gigantic metal beast.
Just marvellous. How was it that whenever he managed to save Thor, his brother automatically lost the capacity of speech, while the humans who seemed compelled to clobber him on sight always had something to say?
"I'm so sorry! I swear I'm not doing that on purpose!"
Loki heard a painfully familiar voice exclaim with an impressive amount of emotion that made his eyes unroll from under his lids. He begged to completely disagree. It was clear that this woman had been an appointed warrior of the human race and hell-bent on hunting Thor and he down to take them captive at the best, if not slay them on sight.
This called for his skills of a most dangerous nature.
That was, if he could actually get up.
A/N: I hope you don't think that I don't like Thor (since I am not giving him a huge credit so far) as I totally adore him as well as Loki. But he was a bit of a narrow-minded, arrogant oaf to start with, so he will learn his lessons soon enough.
I would so love to hear your feedback and I will not abandon this story if you don't abandon me! Reviews are vital to my existence, steady continuation and sanity. :D So please, please let me know how I am doing and what you think?
And as a gentle encouragement he is another instalment of my easy 3-step guide to reviewing:
1) Print out a life-size cardboard cut-out of Thor and depart for Puente Antiguo; sandwiches, bottled water, sunglasses and hats are recommended.
2) Fasten your reviewing device to the back of Thor's head and place the cut-out anywhere in plain view. I mean upright, for Odin's sake!
3) Wait, while eating and drinking aplenty, for Jane to reverse into Thor, and voila. Instant crushed Thor-face review!