"You have constellations in your hands. You call it glitter, but no…these are made of fire and stardust."— Dana Langston. Lucy + Leo/Loki
It was mesmerizing, the way his thumbs rolled over her palms, soothing. The motion wasn’t erratic, it was carefully measured with each sweep hitting the sensitive parts of the hand in time, with no divergence of pattern.
His golden eyes, however, were not locked on that, not like her darkened brown ones were. The woman could feel his gaze, scorching yet tender, locked on her face, reading the subtle clues there with a finesse and experience that spoke of his years living among humans.
“It’s never enough. I’m never enough. I just drag the team down, Loke. And it’s not even like I fight myself… I mean, I do, now, but I’m not good at it. I always need help!” she blurted out, making him tsk gently, the sound caressing over her fondly, lovingly; there was no exasperation to it, no judgement.
“Princess,” he began, taking his time to order the words just right, to do justice to the one he’d given his heart, soul and service to willingly, fully. “You have the constellations in your hands, truly.” Slowly, his fingers stopped, gathering up her hand to flip it over, showing her the empty palm, “Potential is what you should see. Potential and growth, Princess, because you have come so far. Your magic… is not glitter, it is not illusion or parlor tricks.”
He drew it to his lips, head bowed deeply, reverently.
His words were whispered through a kiss, “Fire comes from these hands, fire and stardust.”
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