loyal

!!!!!!!! im so glad you beat your cancer

oh my god, *hugs* I'm so glad you beat your cancer though. welcome back!

*hugs* thank you! 

Reasons for my absence:

- I taught 20 credit hours last semester - I had a hysterectomy & had & then beat cancer - It took a few weeks to recover.

But I want to come back. I want to rp. But the re-occurring issues seem to be: - my account is 5 years+ old and I might need to remake it to get active followers - people drop threads on me and I quit when I go a week without any replies. This isn’t anyone’s fault, but it’s a bit demoralizing.

❝                 YES.    ❞      it still leaves an … uncertain taste in his mouth, saying so.   as much as he caused trouble, there were still attachments to asgard.   less for what it stood for,  and more for the memories which were still all too fresh in his mind.    he’s at a rare loss of how to explain properly, though;  of where to begin, of what to leave out, and what to flourish.   instead he hums low in his throat, fingers brushing contently along her skin while he remains in place, admiring the suppleness of her cheek with a languid kind of gaze.

❝       ragnarok has come to pass,       ❞     he speaks almost gently, in calm, even tones.   the destruction flashes before his minds eye and he sees death and fire, bodies strewn about the courtyard, on the bifrost.   all familiar in passing,   some far too well known.   this he keeps to himself,  however,  if only for the moment.       ❝      as it was meant to.    the people are safe;  though many warriors lost their lives.   we’ve come to earth,  for refuge.       ❞      he leans in then,  now cupping her cheeks with both of his hands;  there is, perhaps, the barest hint of a meaningful kiss before he murmurs against her lips, hopeful   :       ❝                   do you understand?    i’ve nothing left ;  and yet,  i still come to you in the wake of such loss.     ❞   

Darcy knows Ragnarok; knows Asgardian lore as well as any mortal can. It was Darcy who suggested Jane and Erik read it, after all, but for the scientists, the humanities and literature was too strange, too esoteric and poetic both. For Darcy, she ate it up eagerly, needing to match the tales that Asgardians passed down to the Nords, which then became inscribed not as an alien encounter, but a holy one. Maybe it’s for that reason still, that Darcy sees them so. Loki’s lips are cool to the touch, like the rest of him, but even with all her warmth she can hardly stir against him. Warriors have lost their lives. Does that mean Sif, and Fandral, and the rest of them? Of the Asgardian she never met, Heimdall? And Thor?  And yet, it’s Loki’s grief that is knocking on her door, begging her to answer. She reaches up with one hand, nestling it against his arm, anchoring him as much as her. Her other arm reaches back further, weaving her fingers in his hair and holding it to his neck. 

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry -- I -- But you could have called. Or ... sent a raven. Like hey, my planet’s blowing up, so... on Thursday, I’m going to stop by.” It’s a silly thing to say, but what else is there? Feel a little shame, she supposes. Darcy then whispers quietly, her fingers tightening. “Are you going to be okay? Loki?” She says his name again, this time, because she wants to, because she wants to keep it close. This is why he came here. Maybe to escape something terrible, but because he knew it wouldn’t take long to make her so undone. There would always be at least one person in the universe ready to forgive him. 

AND OH, SHE CAN BE CRUEL.       but perhaps he knows her better than either of them would truly like to admit  ——-  the press of his fingertips against heated flesh, a tangle of limbs and open mouths in the middle of the night —–  and he knows there time, still.   knows she has not kicked him out yet as much as she may like to, and knows if he is a black hole, consuming everything in his path, she was a casualty of choice made long ago.  and perhaps,  one made continuously since then, in the dark.    he moves lightning quick, reflexes akin to that of a graceful feline, a predator on the hunt.   he cages her in with his body against the counter,  staring down at her softer features with cold, emerald eyes.  

❝       hush,      ❞     he implores in a tone one might even dare to call sweet, even spoken from such a sharp tongue.  elegant fingers dance over the curve of a familiar cheek, and splay out against her neck.   no real pressure is there, but there’s always the possibility that there could be, if he wanted it.    or if she did.      ❝      there is no need for such talk,   is there ?    such cruelty.    if you must know                        asgard is no more,  at present.     quite a bit has happened, since our last meeting.     one that,  i’m afraid,  let you more sour than i would have liked.   have i truly been so terrible to you,  sweet darcy ?      ❞  

She crumples at both his words and actions, softening against him with a scowl on her lips. This isn’t what she wanted: to melt against him, feel her knees go weak at his touch, and nestle her cheek against his hand. Darcy can’t tell how much of his action is purposeful -- how many moves in advance he thinks his every word, every turn, like a grand chess master moving his pieces in a row to ensure he will always win. Or is there sincerity in him, a type of honesty in the god of lies that will allow spontaneity and desire?  “Asgard’s... gone?” She murmurs against his palm, trying desperately to hold onto the more important part of the conversation before she loses grasp of it entirely. “How can it be gone?” If it is... are millions dead? Is Odin dead? Is Earth in danger? Should she be afraid or sorrowful? Enraged or empathetic? 

“M’name’s Korg, and I am made of rocks, as you can see. But don’t let that alarm you, I’m not a threat– unless I trip, then there might be a rockslide.” He craggy lips formed a smile at his own joke. Miek chitters upon being spoken to. “This is Miek, as I’ve already said, he’s an insectoid. I stepped on him a few weeks ago and I’ve been carrying him around until he gets on his feet again.”