cunningas: (eyeing you)
He can imagine his favorite retreat simply by closing his eyes. He can imagine the warm, inviting atmosphere, the sweet smell in the air. He can get the best seat in the house with a wonderful view, not to mention a fabulous meal to go with it. The door was always open and his hostess was only the most gracious and beautiful woman in the nine worlds -- if he did say so himself. The only "negative", as it were, was the bad-tempered wolf who liked to hang out there too and really, Loki couldn't blame the kid, he'd be grouchy too.

He's dreamed of it, sometimes, seen himself back there, happy.

Many times, while he was still Bound, that is the place he thought of, a retreat inside his head, to take him away from those damnable rocks, to a time when he could look at Her without feeling any sort of guilt for what he'd done to her, they were simply together...with Vali and Narvi running bout underfoot. A family.

Not anymore, though.

But still, the place was there: Sigyn's kitchen.

When he thought of the place he'd been happiest, that was it. Not Tahiti. Not Fiji. Not New York. Not Washington. Not Greece. Not anywhere but there.
cunningas: (my magic helmet!)
It had begun with milk.

Loki awoke to find Sigyn upset for having somehow spilt a pitcher of milk all over the kitchen. This perplexes Loki for several minutes first as she is so neat and careful, especially when baking, and second because she is so sensible, practical. He knows he's seen her wipe up spills before without any fuss. It takes several more minutes for him to get out of her what the problem is and finally he gets her to say something about it being such a special day and wanting to make his favorite and this was all the milk they had and she'd had to borrow that from Sif and-...


Special Day.


Once he's dried her tears, gotten her to smile, assured her it would be okay, and promised to fetch her more milk, he's faced with an even more pressing problem.

A gift, he needs a gift, and flowers too. Flowers for forgetting, though she didn't seem to have noticed.



This leads him to Thor, not his first choice for a gift-finding expedition but he isn't about to go whine at Odin about forgetting his own wedding anniversary and needing something amazing to give his wife to make up for it. Once Thor finishes laughing his head off at his traveling-partner, the big oaf agrees to help Loki find something suitable to give to Sigyn. With a few actually helpful suggestions from Sif who swears not to tell Sigyn of her husband's terrible misdeed at forgetting such an important day.

Along the way, Thor attempts to throw out useful suggestions.

"See if the dwarves will make her something like they did for you before?"

Loki's nose wrinkles, "One time deal. And after the whole lip-sewing incident, rather doubt any of them would make anything for me."

Thor's brown furrows as the thunderer considers this, "Mead?"

Now Loki's blinking, "What??"

"You like mead. I like mead. Doesn't she like mead?"

The Trickster throws his hands up into the air in frustration, "I can't give her mead!"

"Just a thought."

"How do you ever manage to get anything for Sif is beyond me."

This comment was a mistake for Thor launches into a long explanation of how every year he gives Sif the same thing, her favorite perfume, and every year she smiles and kisses him and tells him thank you. This takes much longer than one sentence when it's Thor telling the story, however and Loki somehow manages to suffer in silence until, "Wait!"


"I know what I can get her!"


"Well, unlike Freyja, she's not smitten by the shinies. Unlike Sif, she's not into perfume. In fact, what she does seem to do most of the time is the cooking and the cleaning..."

Thor interrupts, " friend, that's what women do."

Loki waves at him to shut him up, "And she should get a day off!" He looks so proud of himself, Thor can't find it in himself to make any sorts of jokes about his friend's masculinity like he might have otherwise. Though those never really seemed to affect Loki and Thor wasn't entirely certain why...."Well, if you insist."

And so, Loki returns home (with remembered milk, even) and tells his wife that today is her day of rest and insists on doing all of the cleaning and cooking. He even wears her apron. Many things could be said about Loki's housewifery skills but, to be honest, the less said? The better.

It's during this day that Sif comes to visit Sigyn, curious about what Loki's gift was and how it was working out when Sigyn comments to her, "He's very sweet, but...I hate to tell him he's doing it all wrong! My Loki just wasn't made for these things."
cunningas: (blood and gore)
[After he leaves here]

When Sigyn next enters her kitchen, she'll find a Loki sitting at the table, forehead resting on his arms. His clothes are torn, grass stained, bloodstained, muddy. His skin is streaked with all of the above and not all of the blood is his own. There is a sword lying, forgotten, on the floor by his feet.

Probably the only time he's looked more disgusting and/or pathetic is when he was chained to a rock or three.
cunningas: (cry)
His world was over.

Might as well let Ragnarok occur now. Just get it over with. Where's Heimdall with a fucking sword when you need the fucker?

A part of him is yelling, kicking, screaming inside of his head for him to get the fuck over it and to grow the hell up and to stop being such a fucking whiner cry baby and other such things. That part of him is probably right. None of anything he's done in the past couple of days is like him. He knows what could stop it, but...there's a problem.





That's not to say he likes his state of mind right now, or anything about anything that's going on with him right now. There's really nothing for him now. Hermes is dead. Anne hates him again -- and that thought just about kills him there. The other love of his life, if he'd ever be man enough to admit it, is useless to him now as he would look at her and only want to see Anne and he knows it and he cares for her enough to not taint her image that way. There is no one else. Nothing else.

He's made a living out of keeping everyone in his life at arm's length or further and now those he's let be closest to him are those he's pushed farther away than any. Are those that he could never even look at again.

And still, he doesn't want to give it up. He doesn't want to go back to what he was. He's known love now. True, full, all-encompassing love. He knows at a certainty that to go back to what he was, to give in, to take the potion will be to give this up, to let the memory fade, to forget.

A maybe, just maybe, this anguish crushing his heart now is fitting. He deserves for what he's done. He deserves it for playing along with Eris in the first place. He-...

He should just go back to his rock.


Did he just think that? Okay, maybe that shouty part of him has a point. That's even too whiny and emo for him in this state. That's just. No. He refuses that one. Ain't gonna happen.

Yeah, the situation sucks a big one, yeah, he doesn't see a way out of things for once but that's totally not the solution. No. Rocks.

Well, okay, he knows what he can't do. Now what can he do?

There's always the option of getting more of that original potion to offer up to Anne somehow. To get her back. He needs her. But can he do that now? Can he love her as much as he does, as deeply as he does, and knowingly force her into something she doesn't want? Can he live with knowing he'd be making her falsely love him for the rest of eternity? Is he really that selfish?

Hm. Seems to be a yes on all counts.

Okay, so there's an idea.

Hermes? Oh, ouch. He-...he can't do anything about that. It's done. Over with. He had to do it. He doesn't regret it. Not at all. Really. Time to move on.

Bastard should've known it would happen eventually anyway. Hermes knew what sort of person Loki was, after all.

That's taken care of. Truly.

Sigyn? He just...has to keep doing what he was doing before. Just don't go see her. She'll be so busy baking she won't even notice.

So, no problems there.

So now, he needs to go fetch his true beloved. He needs to pull the scraps of his life together.

He needs to hold on to the last little thing that might help him hang on to what's left of his sanity.


cunningas: (Default)

December 2013

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