I'm terribly aware of what's happening. I'm not so prideful I would think myself incapable of failure. I understand that even gods will falter on occasion... This may be my largest blunder as of now.
Who would guess the abyss under the bridge would lead me to the large and unfriendly hands of a myth. What's more, he wants me to manipulate the very stolen treasure my fa-Oden..Oden stole from his bloody conquests, so much so that he is willing to torture me.
Unlike me, the off colored wretch recognized my heritage fairly quickly.
What a wonderful outcome that discovery lead to, heat torture.. With the benefit of hindsight, I have always had a better resistance to the cold than my b-Thor.. At this very moment I am disassociating.
My mind is in a well distanced fog, it's become a near constant state of mind. The fear, betrayal, anger, feelings of insignificance and hopelessness are practically gone.
I've heard this is not a healthy thing, as I see it now? It's healthier than feeling.
...I have to keep my mind away from mother..every time I'm reminded of how upset she would be if she knew where I am. I..I think of the burning desire to defy.
She would approve..
They realize at some point that the temperature is having little to no effect...they try something else. I'm brought back to reality as soon as a hand grazes my thigh.
I try to pull back, escape the touch. I know I'm unable, the chains that have long worn through my wrists first layer of skin keep me firmly in place. There is no escape...
Something in me begins to break.
My body refuses to listen, it shakes incessantly. More bothersome is my respiratory dysfunction, hyperventilating, have I grown so weak I can no longer control my own breathing??
On the topic of my lack of control-a mixture of sounds bring me back to reality.
None of which are the sounds of my tormentors. In fact, the two voices I do hear sound frantic. It takes an embarrassingly long time for me to comprehend my current posture, hugging my knees with my eyes shut. Upon peeking at my surroundings, I find myself blinded.
Perhaps having ones eyes shut for as long as I have is unwise.
My solution to this problem is to shield my eyes which causes negligible discomfort. Every little conscious movement brings me closer to awareness. My surroundings, what little I can make out, is a mansion of sorts. Large widows, an entirely too big lounge area, some tan-ish man holding a glowing weapon.
The glow is intriguing, for it gives off a almost seidhr energy, a primarily diluted form.
"-I'm going to need a response at some point. Can't really have a conversation if only one of us is talking, I mean..I'd appreciate a response." The man with a glowing chest practically whines.
How undignified.
Our eyes meet, I take the time to analyze the man. There's something undeniably soft about his eyes. Long eyelashes, dark irises, the deep unbridled terror. Surely gained from a similarly devastating experience. The man all but trips over his own feet, whatever he concluded from his analysis of me shook him.
"haha..fuck, of course I'd have something like this happen to me..shit.." He runs a weary hand through his hair.
Oddly it helps him gather his thoughts a fair amount. His frantic ramblings become charismatic questions.
The analytical shine brighter than before, "Right, how did you get here? Who are you? Are you always this shaky? What is that you're are emitting-", it's not distinctly better than the fearful rambling. It is a welcome distraction from the feeling of the chains still keeping me unable, not enough for the pull of them to be unnoticed.
Instead of try to speak I resolve to glare as deeply as I can with what little energy I have.
He stops mid question, thankfully closing his useless mouth. Others have told him to not speak so unendingly? As expected.
"..Do you need a pen and paper? Glass of water maybe?..you do look hot-I mean..." I would be amazed if I looked anything less than cooked. Because I was cooked.
With that thought, my burns sting, I had primarily forgotten they were there at all. How nice it was to be unaware.
The idiot with questions didn't wait for my response, apparently my non-response was answer enough. A glass of water does sound nice..
He scurries back to me with glass in hand. "..You aren't going to bite me are you?"
I hope to express my disatifaction of his stupidity with my expression alone. My throat feels as if I've swallowed a ton of broken glass.
He slowly places the cup on the ground, I'm not a wild animal, he then slides it closer to me. This is tedious.
The water has a paculiar flavor, chlorine? Alchemical in essence..
"Not that I don't looove having a stranger with fantastically magical eyes randomly appear in my home.. but it'd be nice if we could communicate a little." He shuffles in a mock dance fashion.
How long has it been since I've used my voice for anything but screaming? My first attempt is all but a whisper.
"..I..I would appiciate the pen and paper.." His concern visibly grows, is my voice that bad?
I don't have to answer any of his questions..I could lie... What would that accomplish?.. What do I do now? "No idea what you've been doing but it definitely took it's toll on your throat. Here's your paper."
Again he slides the paper to me.
...I ask where I am. "Uh..what planet? Earth. What city? New York." Earth??
How Did I Get Here??? I was..I was in the void... I'm not usually able to travel so far.
"Now that we've started some back and forth let me introduce myself, I'm genius, playboy, billionare,Tony Stark." It sounds familiar.
My first instinct is to write Odenson..I'm not his son. I was nothing but a failed attempt to use a stolen relic. For whatever reason my eyes hurt.
"Loki? Like stab~stab lie~lie God Of Mischief?-who am I kidding this guy got here by using his own core like a battery..haha" I agree, the answer should be obvious.
The longer I'm here the more I realize how much everything hurts. I..need to cool off. My skull aches intensely. No amount of massaging alleviates it. "Sir, your guest appears to be suffering from extended exposure to intense heat, I would rec-"
Stark's home speaks? Has he enchanted it? I wasn't aware midgardians had access to such sorcery.
I have the urge to lie down. Somewhere cold would be nice..
Thor's POV:
Father would have me move on from Loki's death in a week. I refuse to comply. He's blinded by..by his distaste for my brother. I regret not seeing it before. Perhaps if I had he would stil...
I let my own pride blind me to my brother's suffering. How can I have called myself a good brother..
"We all mourn Loki's passing but you need to focus on fixing his mistakes. Son, you cannot mourn forever." I have half a mind to bludgeon him, his words are without real emotion..any real grief.
Mother defends me and our right to be upset.
I find drinking my sorrows away is not without company, Heimdall sits near me. "Your mother won't be able to keep your father from puting you to work again."
Would he prefer I rush into battle blinded by my own tears? What use am I if my feelings get in the way. His title is unearned if this is what they call wise.
"He would use me as his weapon even when I am not ready for battle.." I was raised to be always ready for battle. Had I the forsight, I would have argued the importance of emotional health.
"...Come with me." He doesn't wait for my answer. He leads me far from prying eyes, somewhere quiet.
"Heimdall? What is it?" Something he doesn't want anyone else to hear?
"I have seen your brother, he lives." He lives..
"...You're sure?" What reason would he have to trick me so cruelly. Even Loki would not stoop so low, for the wrong reason but that is besides the point.
"I know what I saw." I suspect he's had a change of heart in regards of my brother. He hasn't told father. Has he told mother?
"Have you told mother?" He shakes his head.
"I couldn't take the chance, you had to know first. He's where Oden sent you." Earth.
How did he survive? How did he end up on Earth? Questions to answer later. For now I must make plans, I need to see my brother.
..I hope he wants to see me.