the god is quiet in their contemplation , the tipping of their head sees stray locks of onyx slip across their brow , marring their vision ever so . there it sits as loki ponders , fingers twitching against something not seen ; they can feel the hilt of a blade before it is brought into life . just in case , not a desperate need for the satisfaction of comfort . the quiet is broken only by the smacking of lips breaking into a grin . the god's posture adjusts , their composure as cocky as one should expect .
" sate my intrigue , would you ? " they've found a humour in their query , present in the ever unwavering grin as stubborn as the god who wears it , " death often removes the burden of unnecessary weight on the soul , focuses the mind on the importance of living . . . to some . and what of you ? has death alleviated your need to bear a grudge ? " another laugh , their next thought a mockery they just have to utter with feigned fright , " am i safe ? "
@aegend sc .
