plotted. @gildedstorms
The chill of the night was like daggers to what skin was exposed. Even in this humanesque form, so unlike his natural, cold was still sharp, sometimes even painful, to the fire giant blood that coursed its way through fiery veins. This discomfort he had grown accustomed to, what with the often unforgiving winters in the States, but certainly his complaints were loud within his own head.
He was not here to protest the weather, however. Loki had contented himself in his silent search of his children, ensuring his whereabouts, his motives, even his existence remained unknown to the Aesir and Vanir. As if they searched for him. For all he knew, Odin could be staining some other poor sod with his cruelty, but Loki’d be a fool not to be careful. Just in case. He knew from unpleasant past experiences that it was always best to be careful just in case.
Despite his tiptoeing, someone had found him. At first, the Raven King was certain it was a joke. Some bird testing his ire, wanting to prod at his buttons to see just what could make the old monarch rise up in some blind fury. It was no joke. Sif was on Earth and she had been asking specifically for him which meant she knew he, without a doubt, was here. He should have been angry, and perhaps a part of him was. An anger deeply and stubbornly rooted, born of a seedling of pure hatred that had germinated for centuries. But outweighing any fury within him was suspicion: Sif’s intentions were unknown to him and could have been a thousand things, and it was for this reason he agreed to see her. He had to know. Underneath his grief and his anger and his cultivated spite, there was always a burning curiosity that roared like the flames in his blood.
So that chilled evening, he stood, in full armored regalia (which was, really, to show that he not only was far more imposing than he had been when he’d left Asgard behind, but that he’d found a significantly better purpose, an improved position that Odin should have been wary of). It was their appointed meeting place, this: some grove near a town. A neutral location, giving no indication as to where he lived. The corvids had come, too, which was only natural. They clung to the nearby trees, their dark eyes glinting in the half-light, remaining eerily silent so as to better listen. The one closest to Loki was a raven significantly larger than any normal common raven, and he watched with his head tilted, perched in a way as though he were prepared to take flight at any second.
“A little birdie told me you’d found your way here,” Loki called out, his malachite gaze narrowed at the shadows where he sensed her presence. “What do you want, Sif?”
