Lokiheim

“That is not my name. You certainly have no right to claim me family if you cannot even give me a more personal title.“

          “I am from a branch of Yggdrasil parallel,” he explained evenly, folding his hands behind his back. “Newly reborn-- my powers have not fully returned, and my memories shall not.” That said nothing definite regardless if she believed him or rightly did not. It was occasionally difficult establishing power bases in new worlds, and this one was very different indeed, but he was Loki.

“And I am sure my dress made of starlight and the tiara upon my head make me a perfectly forgettable guest here. Your apology is accepted but I am afraid you’ll have to hunt for my name.”

          “Ah, but what are gods among the gods,” he intoned with a cultivated graciousness, splaying a hand to his chest and bowing very slightly. At any rate, in any universe, he was certainly the most famous un-son of Asgard, and the recognition of any of his forms would not fail to escape anyone for very long. So– away with it. “I plead your forgiveness, sister.”

Laerke cast an amused glance at Loki, seeming completely not surprised by his sudden appearance at her side. “Is that what those ladies you were listening in on were chatting about? It is not good to just steal gossip. You must offer slightly more each time,” she tutted. “And I must disagree, he certainly is not fitting my taste.”

          He hummed to himself and smiled lightly, leaning in and bringing a chalice innocently to his lips, coincidentally directly over her head. “Oh, I think my version was more succinct, Sister, but I’ll keep that in mind. The ladies seemed to fancy him a great a deal.”

Loki c’mon, at least warn a girl before you start whipping out the camera

"Your ancestral blade is called ‘damage twig’?"

[text: Hawkingbird] What have you been up to?