Ficlet... #_
Möbius
An Avengers Ficlet
(Now Series)
Characters: Loki, Frigga
Warnings/Kinks: Loki is immortal. Too bad no one told his momma that.
Part the First.... Part the Previous
He's drinking a small lake when Mother comes in, and the sound of her scream -accompanied by the pungent aroma of those oils used to temper the dead- startles him enough to drop his own drinks.
He smiles, but she doesn't return it and instead the All-Mother backs up as her scream turns into a croak. Loki's stomach flips, but not really because although the scars and stitching have faded with rebirth all his insides have been put right. If dwarves are to do a thing, they believe in doing it well. No matter how much they dislike the task.
Though they had enjoyed picking apart his brain and spine well enough.
"I-It can't be."
Loki leaves a trail of bloody footprints where the broken jars cut into his feet. "Mother, what is wrong?"
He stares into wide, frightened eyes and grunts as a jewel-encrusted dagger, more a trinket than a real weapon, digs into his breast. Loki coughs red specs and wraps his arms around his distraught -why?- Mother, only vaguely aware of the subtle rustling of Aesir armor filling the chamber.
An Avengers Ficlet
(Now Series)
Characters: Loki, Frigga
Warnings/Kinks: Loki is immortal. Too bad no one told his momma that.
Part the First.... Part the Previous
He's drinking a small lake when Mother comes in, and the sound of her scream -accompanied by the pungent aroma of those oils used to temper the dead- startles him enough to drop his own drinks.
He smiles, but she doesn't return it and instead the All-Mother backs up as her scream turns into a croak. Loki's stomach flips, but not really because although the scars and stitching have faded with rebirth all his insides have been put right. If dwarves are to do a thing, they believe in doing it well. No matter how much they dislike the task.
Though they had enjoyed picking apart his brain and spine well enough.
"I-It can't be."
Loki leaves a trail of bloody footprints where the broken jars cut into his feet. "Mother, what is wrong?"
He stares into wide, frightened eyes and grunts as a jewel-encrusted dagger, more a trinket than a real weapon, digs into his breast. Loki coughs red specs and wraps his arms around his distraught -why?- Mother, only vaguely aware of the subtle rustling of Aesir armor filling the chamber.