Oceanus pt. 2
ughuguhghugh this fucker gave me such pains
but it's done
unsatisfying but if I don't commit and call it done, I'll never move onto the final part D< ffftttt
Oceanus
NC/17
Angst, Comfort, Romance, Smut
When his brain begins to process what his stricken gaze has already known, Thor is alone in the chamber of Loki’s binding. The first emotion to crest the tidal wave of his deluge is anger, hot and boiling. Outside great forks of unspoken rage strobe the nightscape, beating down rain onto a slumbering Asgard. This thing disguised as his brother, he will have none of it. It is a lie, another of Loki’s great tricks. It is a sorcery of smoke and mirrors and he will not stand for it.
A flash illuminates stone walls. In the photonegative made of his vision the thunder god once more sees the raw moment of suffering stamped onto his brother’s face. Reason returns and with it carries the smell of burning ozone.
Pieces fall into place and missing odds in childhood riddles are suddenly revealed. At his side, Thor’s hand turns into a white knuckled fist.
Betrayal rears its head, volatile and ugly, because of all the sentiments that had rolled across Loki’s newly cobalt face, surprise had not been one of them.
Thunder roars.
-
He has never been a god known for his temperance.
As he stalks down the hall, Mjolnir humming at his waist, Thor is grateful that the long corridors are barren of life. He is naught but a goal tonight and he will be nothing more until he is achieved. A hurricane brews in the grey clarity of his eyes.
His emotions are still an exposed livewire, dangerous and active. As the thunder-bringer storms down familiar passage, his mind tries to sort through each reaction.
There is a part of him that fears further dissection of the chaos, a part of him that doesn’t wish to peer too closely at the doubts and seeds of disdain he thought himself above having. Words like outcast and enemy tumble around like shrapnel in his skull. He recounts the scorn a constant companion in Loki’s life, the misshapen fit of his puzzle piece among the rest of their picture, and tries to stifle the thought. It is a visceral response, one brought on by a childhood fed with praise of Jotun death at Asgardian hand.
He wonders to what Loki is now; Jotun or kin.
The white noise in his head thickens, a squirming mass of emotion vying for dominance. A fist breaks through the door, tearing skin on knuckle. Drip drip drip.
All grows quiet.
Before anything, despite everything, Loki is his brother. No matter the mismatch of the trickster to Asgard, theirs is a life entwined.
Thor is to Loki and Loki is to Thor.
This is the truth he accepts above all.
but it's done
unsatisfying but if I don't commit and call it done, I'll never move onto the final part D< ffftttt
Oceanus
NC/17
Angst, Comfort, Romance, Smut
When his brain begins to process what his stricken gaze has already known, Thor is alone in the chamber of Loki’s binding. The first emotion to crest the tidal wave of his deluge is anger, hot and boiling. Outside great forks of unspoken rage strobe the nightscape, beating down rain onto a slumbering Asgard. This thing disguised as his brother, he will have none of it. It is a lie, another of Loki’s great tricks. It is a sorcery of smoke and mirrors and he will not stand for it.
A flash illuminates stone walls. In the photonegative made of his vision the thunder god once more sees the raw moment of suffering stamped onto his brother’s face. Reason returns and with it carries the smell of burning ozone.
Pieces fall into place and missing odds in childhood riddles are suddenly revealed. At his side, Thor’s hand turns into a white knuckled fist.
Betrayal rears its head, volatile and ugly, because of all the sentiments that had rolled across Loki’s newly cobalt face, surprise had not been one of them.
Thunder roars.
-
He has never been a god known for his temperance.
As he stalks down the hall, Mjolnir humming at his waist, Thor is grateful that the long corridors are barren of life. He is naught but a goal tonight and he will be nothing more until he is achieved. A hurricane brews in the grey clarity of his eyes.
His emotions are still an exposed livewire, dangerous and active. As the thunder-bringer storms down familiar passage, his mind tries to sort through each reaction.
There is a part of him that fears further dissection of the chaos, a part of him that doesn’t wish to peer too closely at the doubts and seeds of disdain he thought himself above having. Words like outcast and enemy tumble around like shrapnel in his skull. He recounts the scorn a constant companion in Loki’s life, the misshapen fit of his puzzle piece among the rest of their picture, and tries to stifle the thought. It is a visceral response, one brought on by a childhood fed with praise of Jotun death at Asgardian hand.
He wonders to what Loki is now; Jotun or kin.
The white noise in his head thickens, a squirming mass of emotion vying for dominance. A fist breaks through the door, tearing skin on knuckle. Drip drip drip.
All grows quiet.
Before anything, despite everything, Loki is his brother. No matter the mismatch of the trickster to Asgard, theirs is a life entwined.
Thor is to Loki and Loki is to Thor.
This is the truth he accepts above all.