LOVE IS A DAGGER | Loki Laufeyson

08. Lamentis [P3]

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The pair landed with a shared groan, rolling across the dirt, before finally coming to a stop, bodies bruising all over.

Týr pushed himself to his knees with a grunt, blinking his eyes open to realise he was now straddling Loki.

Another groan sounded as Sylvie landed a short distance away.

Týr quickly scrambled to get off of Loki, almost kneeing him in the face, as the demi-god pushed himself onto his elbows, looking up at the brunette.

The two stood up, Loki discarding his TVA jacket and walking in the direction the train had went, watching it fade from view.

"Well, that's not ideal." He noted, putting his hands on his hips.

He turned back around, only to be met with a sword pressed to his throat.

"Give me the TemPad!" Sylvie demanded

"All right, all right! All right. Okay."

Týr moved to stand next to Sylvie, suppressing a yawn.

Loki pulled out the TemPad, revealing it with his magic, just to display that it had completely smashed.

Sylvie stared at it in shock, sheathing her sword.

"Well, I did take quite the tumble." He excused, wincing at the matching glares from the shorter pair.

"Really?" Týr spat, before sighing, as he turned away with a muttered, "Bloody hell."

"You asshole. You killed us." Sylvie seethed.

"Maybe we can fix it. Okay? Um..." Loki fiddled with the shattered pieces, only managing to drop them.

"You're not a serious man."

"You're right. I'm a god."

"You're an idiot." Týr hissed, through gritted teeth, walking away from the other two.

"You're a clown. You got drunk on the train."

Týr tuned them out as he paced towards a mound of dirt.

He let the heat ball up in his fists, releasing a yell of frustration as he shot the flames into the ground, leaving two black scorch-marks.

Sitting down on the mound with a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair.

What was he doing? He never got distracted, not like that. Sure, he was a cocky, egotistical, sarcastic airhead, but only for show. He never let himself get distracted.

Why had he let Loki distract him?

Why did Loki make him think of Freyr.

"Fuck him." He muttered under his breath, ignoring the scream from Sylvie as she walked over to take a seat beside him.

Fuck Loki and his stupid eyes that Týr could get lost in.

Sylvie sighed as she sat down, not making any move to say something to Týr, but just sharing in his frustration.

He listened to the footsteps behind them as Loki slowly approached. He took a seat next Týr, brushing their shoulders together. Týr immediately flinched away.

Loki just joined the silence for a moment, resting an arm on his knee, before eventually looking over at the other two.

"Did the, uh, scream make you feel better?" He asked, question directed at both of them.

Sylvie turned to glare at him, "Yes, it did. You should try it sometime."

Týr just stared at his hands, glowering at the soot marks beginning to gather on his fingers.