MadaM ENDGAM3

sabrajay:

endgam3:

sabrajay:

endgam3:

sabrajay:

endgam3:

sabrajay:

endgam3:

sabrajay:

endgam3:

sabrajay:

endgam3:

sabrajay:

Loki stared at him, his expression rather flat. “You haven’t offered me a seat.” Why else would he be standing? Had it been so long that the absence of Asgard, of the Allfather, had left the cities of people to forget their place, and their gods? “And yes, a prince. Second son of Odin, the…

Chris looked more than shocked.The audacity of this guy! His jaw locked in place,muscles moving as it did. He wasn’t just going to dance around for him like a trained monkey.

‘Look.I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d appreciate you leaving,’ he uttered as he stormed over to his front door, before slamming it open.

Green eyes snapped to blue, something sharp and cold residing. “Who do I think I am? I know my place mortal, but do you?” Loki stood slowly, deliberately, taking small steps toward the other. So the mortal wanted Loki to leave? Thor might have had his way in Asgard, but he would not have it here.

Here, Loki wasn’t just any god. He would do what he wanted, and whenever he pleased. Long, cold fingers gripped the Midgardian’s chin in an iron hold, bring his face close. This was the first time he had touched anyone on Midgard; they were warm to the touch, almost as frightfully hot as Thor himself. It was quite sickening, really. “Do you think yourself better than I?”

There was a moment where the Australian recoiled as best as he could. Fear like icy fingers tickled down his spine. This man’s hand was frighteningly cold and he found his lips parting in surprise. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the black haired man. He suddenly felt so very small. There was some stuttering from the blonde as he stared into those piercing eyes.

Jealousy started to rear it’s ugly head inside his chest. “You may be what the others deem as a fine Asgardian, but I tell you now that your being is poor. You have the physique, but you lack the intelligence and sharp tongue to make it in any other realm - you are lucky to have me by your side!” Loki was surprised to find his mouth turned back into a snarl, even more surprised by his own outburst.

He let the other go, face returning to a more frigid expression. He would not apologize for the truth, but his rage would not leave him.

Shock pulsed through him. It was as if this man was talking through him and to someone else.

‘I…don’t know what your brother has done to piss you off so badly…But you can’t take it out on me,’ he murmured at last, leaning against the door heavily. His chest felt tight as fear held him in a choke hold.

“Silence!” He all but barked at the man. Eyes narrowed, his body unmoving. “I am Loki of Asgard, and I do what I want.” He let his eyes wander over the other, noting his stature. So, the Midgardian finally felt some scrap of fear. Sensible.

“What has transpired between my brother and I is no business of yours,” he bit coldly. “But I cannot bring words to the giant oaf, so you may want to find some way to appease me.”

Chris felt a sliver of hope in this troubling situation. He wanted to be appeased? So his brother pissed him off…Raising his hands a little, he mused out loud; ‘Your brother must have been a right idiot to piss you off, mate. It doesn’t seem like the best course of action…’ Having said that, he tried to gain some ground back. He stood tall again, putting a muzzle on his fear.

Loki snorted, searching the mortal’s face for any kind of mockery. Finding none, he folded his arms. “Indeed, but the brute does not use his head for intelligence, he uses it for… smashing.” He grimaced at the though of their training; Thor merrilly wrestling with Volstagg, all the while he could not touch the Lady Sif for fear of not being able to control his magic.

His teeth ground together in frustration, and he turned to pace back towards the living area. “Fetch me something to drink, mortal. Parched is not a state I enjoy.”

He frowned a little at that, however he strode into the kitchen and few moments later he returned with a glass of water. The Australian offered it up, still scowling.

‘So what did he do that pissed you off so much.’ Get him to talk it out, vent his frustrations then maybe he’d move on. Chris took a seat on the large armchair in the corner with an edge of caution about him.

Long, dark hair spilt over his shoulder as he leant forward to take a sip. It tasted dirty, but he didn’t really expect any less from Midgard. “The idiot thinks to have his friends and I get along by training together, but I will not tolerate it.  To be in the same realm as the brutes and that harlot is more than my patience is willing to overlook, but to let them humiliate me for hours on end just make my brother laugh? I think not.” 

Loki placed the glass on the small table that came up to his shin, lest he break it under his grip. He didn’t want to waste magic on something as insignificant as a cut. “And yet, he does not see it. While they throw themselves at enemy after enemy to impress him, and Sif belittles the younger as often as our Fathers good eye might blink in one day, my patience wavers. They do not fear me as they should, but they will soon enough.” 

Chris just sat and listened, knowing what little else he could do in this situation. A tired expression came over his features like a dark cloud and he simply nodding. He didn’t particularly understand what was being said to him so he tried his best to relate in some way to how normal people spoke. Eventually, the larger man just ended up rubbing his eyes and sighing, given that there was no way of telling what the best course of conversation would be to make the man leave.

Green eyes locked onto him, still sharp and cold. “Oh, am I boring you with my tale of woe? Need I tell you a happier story?”

In an instant Loki was above him, hands either side of the armchair as he leant down to match his height. “Would you like to hear the story of how Thor becomes king, Lady Sif sires his children and they rule Asgard with naught but war and destruction in mind? I assure you, that tale may leave me even further aggravated, the one they call ‘Chris’.”

The Australian pressed himself further into the cushioning of his armchair, a look of bewilderment flashing through his eyes.

‘No, I-’ He stopped, his mind processing just what had been said to him. ‘H-how do you know my name?’ The waver in his voice couldn’t be withheld as panic crept up on him once more. Was this man stalking him? Great. He was delusional and he was stalking him. Chris made to move away from the stifling presence that loomed over him, his large hand on the other’s arm, ready to push it away.