Providence Of Divinity || Loki X Reader

Chapter 4

Your eyes snapped open to find no difference in whether or not they were closed. 

The room was black as pitch, telling you it was somewhere in the late hours of the night. You leaned over, heart racing as you flicked on your bedside lamp. The gentle illumination cast sharp shadows against the wall, nightmarish in their bent angles. 

You took a few deep breaths.

 These dreams, you realized with horror, were not dreams. "Visions," you gasped out loud, mostly to reaffirm that you still had use of your vocal cords. "Or. . ." you endeavored to grasp at any other alternative. "Or they aren't my dreams. That theory is still a valid hypothesis! Who knows, maybe Asgardians dream differently than humans. But. . . but that wasn't normal. That was. . . that was graphic. Too graphic." You stopped talking to yourself with a grimace. You could feel impending disaster like damp winds before a coming storm.

You could also feel Loki calming down. If these dreams had a mirrored effect upon him as they did you, it put a hole in your theory that you were simply sharing his dream. Why would he feel equally disturbed by them if it was only a nightmare?

You got out of bed and walked to the window, pulling aside the thick curtain. The city beyond was alive with light, like stars cast down from the heavens to lay strewn at man's feet. And hovering just above that picturesque beauty hung the sky, a void of consuming darkness. 

Consuming darkness. . . 

You whipped the curtain closed, turning your back on the night-life of New York. You knew what you needed to do. You could feel it in your gut like it had been hardwired into you from the moment you drew your first breath. You just hadn't noticed it before.

You needed to go see Loki. He may have been a bit of a tempest himself, but whatever storm was coming was far worse. You didn't know what his role was supposed to be in preventing the disastrous event your gut forebode (Hell, you didn't even know your role), but whatever it was, you knew it had something to do with him. 

For a time, you sat in the still shadows of your room hugging your knees, two sides of yourself battling furiously within; the part that feared and despised the God of Mischief, and the part that blindly needed his presence.

"I'm a bloody FBI agent," you whispered vociferously. "Knowing the reasons behind a motive is sort of my thing. I can't just blindly go along with some prophecy. Especially one that involves a freaking psychopath as my partner!"

Surprising no one, Fate did not answer you. With a sigh, you buried your forehead in your knees.

Whatever instincts destiny had installed in you at last prevailed. You rose to your feet steadily, dressing, then walking to the door that lead out into the hallway. You hadn't a clue how to summon Thor, but he was a God (at least, that is what you understood of the situation), so perhaps prayer would work. 

You walked out of the hotel building and into the lamp-lite street. Two hotel employees stood out on the front steps, leaning against the railing. One was smoking. The glowing embers of the cigarette cast a red glow on the curling smoke, disappearing into the open air.

 You turned away from the hotel and walked, the cool breeze making your hair dance. You continued through the streets until you found a less populated area that was well lite. It overlooked a lake. There was a wooden bench in a patch of grass a few feet from the busy road. A ways to the right, and down the small hill on a paved path was a pavilion. You choose the bench and took a seat, looking to the black, light-polluted sky. 

"Okay," you said out loud. "I honestly have no idea if this will work, but. . . Thor? I need to talk to you. Er, well, I need to talk to your brother. I'm not saying anything has changed. I still feel how I did a week ago when we spoke, I just need to talk to him. Don't let him out of prison or do anything brash, I'll come to Asgard if that's allowed. Can you even hear me?"