#heimfrost

Heimdall looks to Loki with raised brows, the words for some reason only served to sadden him. That Loki truly believed he would take the word of another over him cut, though his expression soothes to impassiveness.

“Is that so.”

The person in question was his king, loyalty to the throne was his sworn duty. Raised since a child to faithfully fulfil all Odin asked of him. Yet the prince had come to him in pain, asked for his assistance, begged him to allow entry to Johtunheim.

He seemed to know something no one else did yet. And that alone had the Gatekeeper well on edge.

Heimdall’s duty should not be forgotten, but when duty of work came to duty of care - his family would win in the end.

“Do not doubt my faith in you, little prince. Do not doubt what I would do on your word. And do not think to turn it on me.”

There is a beat before he steps back, drawing Hofund from its place at his hip, Golden eyes lingering on the young man a final time before he moves briskly to the podium, the weight of each step heavy in his chest.

“Come, we must be quick.”

The sword slides into the slow, the key to unlock the power of it. Loki wished to go where the frozen wastes may well kill him, and Heimdall would not let that journey be done alone.

Secrets were falling unravelled, and he would find the truth with them.

But instead of turning the Bifrost on, he locks it. A tight twist that has the place falling silent. Drawing Hofund once more and offering his hand. Should the king see the observatory move he may question, they would have to use older methods.

“This will feel a little different, but we will be there in moments. Whatever this is Loki, I trust you to be safe in it.”

Never has there been a time when Loki has felt more lost, even compared to what his brother must have been feeling, cast out powerless upon Midgard. He’s using every trick he knows to conceal the trembling in his limbs, the guilt and the confusion eating away at his core. 

I didn’t mean for this. This isn’t what I wanted. Now I don’t know who I am, what I am. 

To try and get back to Jotunheim is one of his two options. He doesn’t trust Odin to tell him the truth, so he must ask it of the creatures who have declared war on Asgard. A war he’s caused by goading Thor into being Thor.

When he gets to the Bifrost it’s in his head to attempt persuasion once again on its guardian before tricking his way down or giving up and seeking out the Casket instead. What Loki doesn’t expect is for Heimdall to offer aid. After all the seer must suspect, he shows kindness and the god of mischief barely knows how to take it. He almost recoils, wanting to retreat further into himself, snarl at everyone around him like a wounded animal until he finds his own answers. The words ‘little prince’ should be a comfort but they barb him with implications of naivety and powerlessness.

And yet, the way will be open, and Odin will not see or be able to forbid him from venturing into that dangerous territory. Heimdall offers it freely. He’d be a fool to snub the opportunity.

The calm before the storm. Loki hated that expression, and the entire concept of it. There was no such thing as calm in such moments, just a very unpleasant sense of foreboding, a feeling of unease that set him on edge and made him expect the worse. Whether it would be the Midgardians' reaction to him returning to their world, of potentially trying to make it his home — or something else that might happen before they could make it to Earth, Loki didn't know, and neither did it matter. What mattered was that the twinkling stars and million colours of space outside the giant window brought him no peace, and he was left leaning against the thick glass with his forehead pressed up against it, trying in vain to think of anything but what ifs...

He had left Sakaar, the first and only place he had ever felt accepted, even appreciated for who he was, and what he had become. He had come to save Asgard, his home despite everything that had happened, and he still wasn't sure he had succeeded. The people were safe, certainly, but it didn't matter how many times he heard those words repeated, that Asgard isn't a place, its a people. He had loved the place, even after finding out that not only his life there had been a lie, but big parts of its history as well.

It was all Odin, wasn't it? Though his dying words had touched Loki more deeply than he liked to admit, he still could not just forgive and forget, and he was fairly sure he shouldn't. And he could not bring himself to blame Frigga for any of it, and as for Thor... His brother was all he had now. Him, and the cold blue glow in his hand, the immense power of the Tesseract as warm and comforting as it was draining where it almost burned the skin of his fingers.

Not entirely true, perhaps, as the doors slid open and Loki quickly turned his gaze away from the window to see Heimdall entering. For a moment he seemed startled, his hand holding the Infinity Stone moving as if he wanted to hide it; a young boy again caught stealing anything from food from the kitchens, to books on sorcery his parents thought him much too young to read. But then he relaxed again, a wry little smile twisting his lips as he turned back towards the glass and away from the ancient man.

And maybe it wasn't all Odin. Heimdall had known as well, had he not? Knowing and seeing it all, and yet doing nothing...

                generally, gabriel tried not to be an imposing figure. not in heaven, and not on earth. the whole  ‘ mighty ’  and  ‘ holier than thou ’  thing had never been him. unlike some of his siblings, namely michael and raphael. he’d always tried to be the friendly face, the calm eye in the raging storm. that was probably why yahweh made him his messenger.

                but when faced with someone, like the watcher, or showed no fear towards the ancient and otherworldly being, whose kind had razed entire cities ( who had done so himself ), it left a bit of a question. was he foolishly brave? or foolishly trusting?

                yet, heimdall said he knew him. 

                gabriel knew of the watcher, knew a bit of what he was capable of and what he’d been blessed with. so perhaps it was more along the lines of understanding? the archangel truly did not mean him or his people harm, there had been just no other place for him to turn to. and his weakened state left him with even fewer options, given his inability to travel for very long.

                maybe asgard wasn’t the best choice, but it was better than earth or most of the other realms.

                ❝ ------ peace. ❞

                it was as simple as that. gabriel was not blind to the... tension between the different pantheon’s and different  ‘ religions ’. he knew that the chances of his kind being welcomed into any halls were less than likely, but he had to try.

                ❝ this is the realm eternal, an advocate for peace and the prosperity of life? or did i take the wrong flight? i don’t want to start a fight, and i will leave if asked, but all i ask if for a chance. for refuge. ❞

Heimdall and Tess are bad a planning murders.

                       something doesn’t smell right

           ‘ wha- smell? ’  eddie had been enjoying a cup of coffee, bringing a fresh donut to gladice on the corner avenue as per routine when venom brought him to a complete stop on the curb.  ‘ you’re- thats something that bothers you? ’

                       that human. over there. 

           strange. eddie could feel venom going on -- what he could sorta describe as, alert.  ‘ whats wrong, big guy? ’  an attempt for answers, yet when met with silence, eddies gaze roamed the crowd. settling on an individual that echoed some sort of response in venom when stared at.

           ‘ hey! ’  a sudden decision, calling out to the stranger. 

                       no! what are you doing!

     There were few memories of her life where she had not been a warrior. And even so, she had always been a  f i g h t e r  anyway. Sif had seen enough, but far from what her brother had. Ragnarök had been forever expected, foreseen. Yet, she doubted one could ever be prepared to such thing. It was a good that so many had survived, even though they had lost a lot that day. Asgard could be gone, but its people would survive and that was what mattered.

     Sif had been banished for a while now -- later she would find out why the All-Father would have someone so loyal to Asgard sent away? It wasn’t  h i m  the responsible for that act. She had been brought back in time to fight for Asgard, but not in time to save her friends. Part of her asked herself if she would be capable of doing something, of stopping what came to happen to them or if she would be another one to perish at the hands of death.

     It was not enough what she did. War could have done everything, but just the fact that still so many died would be enough for her to blame herself somewhat. However, Ragnarök was told to be the end of everything. It could have been worse. She was relieved to see that her brother lived and that would not be the day when she would lose her family.

     There was so much to be seen in so many worlds. She hoped there was a place for them, one for them to rebuild what had been destroyed. Because they were survivors and would continue to be.

heimfrost replied to your post: I think you should go as Loki and spend the night...

“Show us those skills big guy, yell at me to kneel and throw a hissy fit! Wait - can you even manage the crying twink vibe?” (i’m crying I hate them xD)