#frostironedit

They need to go. Now. He stumbles over to Stark, but nearly blacks out when he reaches for his seidr. It is no use. He is of no use. 

"Talk about a soft landing. Couldn't have turned the air brakes on, Rudolph?" Stark's voice drags his attention into focus. Loki scowls. He detests that nickname, even as part of him is charmed Stark makes the effort to bestow it. It is just Stark's way. 

Stark's suit is in shambles, damaged from their earlier fight and now their rough trip through the branches of Yggdrasil and less than soft landing. Stark has to pry the mask off manually and the suit is a sparking mess. Loki's lips purse. Unless they find shelter soon, Stark could very well die from exposure. Without his seidr there is little Loki can do to keep him warm. 

"Hoo boy, bit nippy. Where are we, anyway?" Stark has stepped out of the suit, even though it would be smarter to keep it on. Is its power so drained he can't even walk in it? Of course the mortal has made armor he cannot use under his own power. Of course. 

"Jotunheim," he answers Stark instead. There is little use in complaining, Stark is probably already well aware of his foolishness. He is not a complete idiot, after all. Loki wouldn't have allied with him otherwise. "I do not suggest we stay out in the open much longer. You would not like to meet the native inhabitants."

"I bet they're just a laugh a minute. Just like you, Chuckles," Tony says, getting to his feet. He is too busy doing something to the suit to notice the way Loki freezes at his joke. It would be a poor joke regardless, but the few words pierce into his very heart. 

Loki turns away and gasps at the tearing sensation deep in his chest. Something is deeply wrong, only compounded by the cold despair wrought by Stark's jest. Loki moves to rub at his chest, but freezes once more at the sight of his hand. 

Deep blue skin meets his eyes, delicate raised lines sweeping across his wrist.  Loki is once more swept back to that horrid day of Thor's coronation, his hand turning blue against his will and shattering his entire life. Once more, his very flesh betrays him. 

He snarls silently, a grimace steeling across his face. He pulls from deep within and the glamour slowly, frustratingly slowly spreads back into place. The effort leaves him shaking and gasping. He can feel blood in the back of his throat. But the glamour is back in place. That is all that matters. Once they get to shelter Loki can rest and shore it up properly and they can escape this wretched place. 

"We have to move," Loki says. It is a fool's hope to think their arrival hadn't been noticed. He figures he is the last person anyone still alive on Jotunheim wants to see.

"Fine with me, I don't fancy my chances of not freezing out in the open. You don't happen to know about any hotels in the area?"

Loki lets Stark's rambling words wash over him as they begin to move through the snow. He should make the mortal be quiet, but Stark's incessant patter keeps his mind from fracturing further. It reminds him he needs to keep Stark alive and not succumb to the screaming panic barely suppressed under his skin. Of the blue just under his skin.