As the rain began to fall heavily, beach-goers were fleeing from the sands and the growing waves. A flash storm was coming, chasing everyone inland. Perhaps it was the best time to this, where no one could be there to witness it. She carried the beach as far from the bridge as she could manage, walking a good ways before she felt comfortable enough to take the weapons from their confinement. The sand was more and more packed down by falling water beneath her boots, and as she held the sickles in her hands, she swung them in oscillations between her fingers.
Her skills hadn't faltered, at least, but that didn't mean she intended to keep them, no matter how whole it seemed to make her feel.
Somehow, the dire desperation to part with her blades faded like a faint scent in the breeze. It was like being reunited with family. Again, she would twirl them, faster this time. Then, she would turn on her heels, kicking up the sand as she would slash at the air. There was nothing there, and of course, she knew it, but there was something satisfying about going through the motions.
Imagining as if a Nightmare floated before her, she sliced at an invisible target, her feet carrying her across the sand like a chasing coyote. Suddenly, she turned around, sand flying about her ankles as her sickle hooked around a fisted dagger that was coming at her face.
"I should have known you couldn't stay away," she sneered. Once again, it seemed as though Loki had followed her when she needed some alone time. He, however, seemed to have notice the symbol on the grips of her weapons. As she swiped at him, he would grab her arm, yanking it towards him and turning it to face her wrist upward. Upon it was the faint scar where her mark should have been.
"Another Valkyrie," he said, but he didn't release her arm. In fact, she was certain his grip had tightened on her wrist. "I was surprised when I met one a couple of months ago. I imagined they were all dead, at the time."
"You imagined wrong," she scowled, and she would swing her freed arm, though her sickle would only slice through air. He reared back, and faster than she could keep up, the mischievous deity shoved her face-first into the nearest wall of rock.
"What other secrets are you trying to hide?"
"No more than you, I'm sure," she hissed, struggling to push him off. "Now, let go of me."
To her surprise, he did, stepping away from the giant stone, though he still firmly gripped his daggers. It was clear that their feud wasn't exactly a fight to the death - Loki seemed to take far too much pleasure in dueling with her to put a permanent end to it.
In a way, she kind of felt the same way. She was feeling that rush of adrenaline as an after effect.
It was really kind of weird.
"Why do you keep following me?" Dahlia demanded, brushing her platinum hair from her face.
"Why, to ensure that you and your friends got reaquainted without dilemma."
She eyed him suspiciously, neither of them really phased by the heavy rain and gusts. "You're the one that led me to the shop, aren't you?"
He smirked at her, only to be forced to dodge back as she swiped at him once again. Took that grin off his face, at least. She needed to give him another scar to replace the one that she had healed, apparently.
"Now, wait a minute!' he insisted, and though Dahlia didn't want to, she stopped, the inner curve of her blade merely an inch from his cheek. "Thor even said it. I'm not your enemy."
"No," she said sternly. "I'm not your enemy, though unless you tell me why you set this up, that might change pretty quickly."
"I only wanted to help." Slowly, he sheathed his daggers, putting his hands up and in plain view. "I might never have seen eye to eye with Freyja, but we are still of the same kin as Asgardians."
Dahlia, who was still highly untrusting of Loki, stayed on her guard. "You've been spending too much time with these humans, haven't you?"
He frowned at her. "Please, don't rub it in."
In the grand scheme of things, she was certain there was still more to the story than Loki was letting on. He had a goal, even if it wasn't obvious just yet.
The next couple of days had Dahlia torn between her designated job and her side job. It seemed that a couple of agents had gotten injured on the clock, and she took care of their wounds within the span of a couple of hours.
After that, she tracked down a couple of Nightmares in Manhattan that had been terrorizing a giant, hotel building. They were apparently drawn to something, a swarm of five lured in like moths to a flame.
She didn't take the time to question it, only knew that something had to be done about it. With her blades in hand, as Dahlia had decided to keep them after all, she hurried into the hotel lobby as she saw them break into a window on the fourth floor.
She took the stairs, following them to Room 413. She heard the ruckus and screaming on the other side of the door. It was locked, forcing her to kick it down on order to get in.
The first thing she noticed was a man bleeding on the bed, his wrists pouring crimson onto the white sheets. He seemed to be in a panic, screaming something about changing his mind, saying he didn't want to die, and that he had made a mistake.
She would put an end to the Mares, but not without causing absolute destruction to the hotel room. Furniture was left upturned and slashed, and the walls were streaked with blood and green slime.
The resident in the room, who seemed to be the only one there, was sobbing quietly by the time she got to him. He had tried to kill himself, and the thoughts of agony and depression seemed to be what attracted the Nightmares.
She was quick to heal him, but the inner pain was beyond her help. He would still need to seek mental help,
She had done some good, at least. Yet, seeing these mortals succumb to their emotions to such a degree... Would these people truly choose to die just because something hadn't turned out right for them?
It left Dahlia in a whirlwind of emotions throughout the rest of the day.
She stood on the oceanfront - the same of which she had almost disposed of The Viper Blades. They were put in a safe place for now. In her hands, however, she held the chain and necklace that she hadn't taken off at all during these months - not until now.
It was dark out - well past curfew for people to be visiting the beach. Still, it was quiet, but somehow, she knew it would not last for very long.
"We meet again."
She still gazed upon the waves, the moon glistening on the water. Yet, behind her, she knew someone was watching her.
"You certainly are a creature of brooding mystery," Loki's voice sounded behind her. "Tell me of your woes."
Dahlia didn't know why it was so tempting to just open up to him. She hadn't even spoken about the battle with Thor. Loki's brother was probably a better listener, but she had to settle with the mischievous sibling.
"I wasn't there to save my sister. I watched Hela impale her, because she gave her life to save another."
Even admitting it out loud left the taste of dust in her mouth. Agnethe died on her own accord, to save a fellow warrior, yet, she never showed the slightest indication that she might do the same for Dahlia. In fact, Agnethe had been quite cruel as an older sister. She was a bully, and if anything ever went wrong, she always would blame it on Dahlia.
And Dahlia, though she was almost the splitting image of her beautiful, dead sister, was derelict.
In all reality, why did it matter?
But it did, because family mattered more than anything in this world, and she had none left.
It was silent. She had been ready to think Loki had vanished until he finally spoke up again.
"You weren't in the right place at the right time - that doesn't mean you brought about your sister's end."
"Why do you care?" she demanded, turning to look at him. "It's not as if you've had a particularly great streak of showing sympathy.l, especially when it comes to family."
Loki shrugged almost too casually. "You're not wrong."
Her knuckles whitened around tightening fists. "Good. Then, leave me alone."
But the God of Mischief remained still, standing on the hill, almost as if he was hesitant. Dahlia didn't care what made him hesitate - only that she wanted to be left alone.
"LEAVE!" she screamed. Before she could stop herself, she turned, throwing the amulet at him, only to watch it pass right through him.
It shouldn't have surprised her that his image was merely an illusion. He accommodated this time, leaving the valkyrie to her thoughts.