Endlessly

In Any Body

"Are you okay?" You're shocked that you'd managed to produce the words, as the rate that Loki is dragging you down the halls has left you entirely breathless.

"Hm." He grumbles, pulling you around a corner and into your room.

The door slams behind you, but you do not jump in surprise. You're hyper-focused on Loki, who is acting wildly out of sorts.

You decide he's far too distressed to begin questioning him about the events of the evening, yet- therefore you do your best to say something positive.

"Laufey seems nice."

Something resembling a laugh bubbles out of him in a single, pinched sound as he storms over to stoke the fire.

Cautiously, you continue. "My parents, they're particular- judgmental, truthfully... I wish to have the security of knowing that my parents would immediately approve of whomever the parent of their future grandchild is. In a way, I envy you." You sigh.

"It's not that simple."

"Sure-"

"Don't patronize me! You know nothing of this burden!" He spikes the now cherry red end of the fire iron into the floor, knocking into the nearby end table, sending a decorative vase to the ground with a crash.

You assess the mess, eventually working your gaze back to him. He glares down at the floor, not necessarily at the broken pieces, but somewhere far off into the distance, and away from you. Unshed tears, held back by nothing but his own stubbornness, sparkle in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Loki. I truly know nothing of your pain- but I want to." Before you can finish, he's at your back with his stonelike frame pressed against you.

"Is that what you want? To know my pain?" His words slide through gritted teeth.

You refuse to let him intimidate you, continuing, "I want to see every bit of you, wholly- completely. I want to understand you, so I may comfort you not only in the way that I know, but in the way that you need."

He snorts at your words, his heated breath running down your neck, before stepping away from you and disappearing to the other side of the room.

Emotionally drained, tired, and just a little bit pissed off; you snap. "You can drop the illusion now."

The room is so incredibly dim that when he speaks, you cannot pinpoint the location of the source of his voice. "I already have."

You glance down at your hands, that even in the low light, are still very obviously blue, and grumble, "Very funny. Seriously-"

"I'm telling you the truth, Gersemi." At last, you spot him, far across the room, perched in the window seat like an emerald-eyed raven. Apart from the glow of the fire dancing wildly in his eyes, he blends completely in with the darkness. His gaze meets yours for the first time since you entered the room. While he remains at a purposely cold distance from you, his tone is now entirely genuine. "The necklace, the flowers, the baby- they're changing you." His eyes disappear briefly; he's shut them while thinking of what to say next. "Hilund said this would happen, I just didn't realize it was going to be so soon."

"Loki- I am meant to be back in Vanaheim in two days! How the hel am I supposed to keep my promise to Aster like this!?" You begin to pace the room in a panic, rushing over to face the vanity mirror.

You hardly recognize the reflection staring back at you; but upon further inspection, you're not really sure why. Yes, some things, well, a lot of things, are wildly different, but it's definitely still you looking back at you- your thick blonde hair is still its usual golden shade, giving you a striking, almost ghostly appearance in comparison to all of the other raven-haired and brunette giants you've seen. You hadn't really thought about it before, but staring back at your unfamiliar reflection now, you realize that no one else here is blonde. The eyes... they're- strange; glowing such a bright red that you half expect to see the light from them bleeding onto your face, yet it stays contained within your irises. There are designs- markings along your chin and cheekbones and scooping across your forehead. You wonder if they're meant to signify something- your age, your sex, perhaps your status, even. Laufey has markings similar to the ones on your cheeks and chin, but she definitely hadn't had any like the ones you have on your forehead. You reach up to touch your face, as a sort of final confirmation that yes, that's really you, dummy- look at what you've managed to get yourself into now. You jab your fingers into your cheeks, like a child would pinch themselves in an attempt to wake up from a bad dream. You grab and pull, exposing a bit of your teeth that you're relieved to see look much like you remember them. They aren't jagged or pointy like the other giants. With shaky fingers, you unfasten the top few buttons of your cloak, exposing the skin of your neck. While relatively unsurprised, your stomach still does a funny thing at the sight of its cerulean state.