[ even after thor has left loki lingers in the bed, silent and still and staring idly up at the white ceiling as if the answers to his questions are written there, as if the mystery of his life could be solved, were he to stare at it long enough.
of course, no such miracle occurs, and loki is left instead with rolling silence and naught but his own confusing thoughts within his ears. i am better off without them, he must tell himself, again and again, i am better off without them and yet in many ways he still cannot help but feel jealous of that dusty, evil old bird, whose silence in loki's head is .. jarring, to say the least, and -
- no no. no thoughts of ikol. now is not the time for this. immediately loki cuts off his train of thought, forces himself up off of the bed, and tugs a(n only mildly stained) sheet over his skinny shoulders. loki wraps himself in it and swings his legs over the bed, padding the short distance to the room where thor is washing up. and loki stands in the open doorway, looking displaced and disheveled but smiling nonetheless. before he can even open his mouth to speak he catches sight of himself in the mirror and goodness gracious, what a mess he looks! his dark hair is wild, his fair skin is flushed still, but unevenly, and his throat and collar (and his shoulders, no doubt, beneath the sheet) are dark with deep, purpling bruises, evidence of his brother's affections. loki is proud and mortified and intrigued all at once, and he crosses the small room to crane his neck and get a closer examination. ]
Oh, Thor, look what you've done! You've made a mess of me.
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of course, no such miracle occurs, and loki is left instead with rolling silence and naught but his own confusing thoughts within his ears. i am better off without them, he must tell himself, again and again, i am better off without them and yet in many ways he still cannot help but feel jealous of that dusty, evil old bird, whose silence in loki's head is .. jarring, to say the least, and -
- no no. no thoughts of ikol. now is not the time for this. immediately loki cuts off his train of thought, forces himself up off of the bed, and tugs a(n only mildly stained) sheet over his skinny shoulders. loki wraps himself in it and swings his legs over the bed, padding the short distance to the room where thor is washing up. and loki stands in the open doorway, looking displaced and disheveled but smiling nonetheless. before he can even open his mouth to speak he catches sight of himself in the mirror and goodness gracious, what a mess he looks! his dark hair is wild, his fair skin is flushed still, but unevenly, and his throat and collar (and his shoulders, no doubt, beneath the sheet) are dark with deep, purpling bruises, evidence of his brother's affections. loki is proud and mortified and intrigued all at once, and he crosses the small room to crane his neck and get a closer examination. ]
Oh, Thor, look what you've done! You've made a mess of me.