vingt-trois.
[The fourth of July. Independence Day, as they called it, to celebrate the country's independence from Great Britain. Such a joyous holiday for Americans. But for those who didn't consider themselves American, it was nothing but a name. Loki was a Frenchman living within America's borders, but he never truly felt he belonged there. Everything was foreign, everyone so fake, even years later.
It reminded him of going from Jotunheim to Asgard. From his homeland, the only place he ever felt truly part of something, to a strange new place overrun with new faces, new lands. From Jotunheim to Asgard, Lyon to New Orleans. It was all the same. Even Hurricane Katrina was like facing his modern day version of Ragnarok.
He'd never, ever felt so fucking alienated.]
[Filter: Skadi]
You may as well show yourself now that I know you're here, Frosty.