#regimeofloki

Attention, Mortals.

You are hereby invited to apply for a position in The Regime of Loki. Marvel Canon characters and Original Characters are both welcome, so step right up to the plate and hit that home run.

The Purge was starting.

All around them the world was quivering as white slivering across the starry sky like shattering glass. The stars began to blot out one by one into an infinite blackness or streaked across the dark velvet night with white hot tails. Sleipnir breathed out, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stood to watch this horrifically beautiful event and felt the thunder of millions of stamping feet collide with the pavement.

How typical of humans, their instinct to fly from such disaster would make them miss the last act of beauty that would be committed in this universe’s lifetime. The stallion could hear the screams as steel structures strained and collapsed under their own weight, no longer being able to withstand the gentle thrumming of Yggdrasil’s roots worming rapidly to the core of this realm. He could feel the sudden disconnection, this realm was… dying. Everything was dead or dying and he had been too late to stop it.

It was all too soon that the city seemed empty of life. Was the human race dead? As pillars of white shot from the ground, twisting and curling like the living things they were, Sleipnir could only wonder if this was what utter fear her felt of… something else. Joy perhaps?

Sleipnir hands shot out of his pockets and he balanced himself as the ground violently shuddered. With another tremble he looked about with wild eyes and watched in wonder as shards of the broken sky began to fall to the earth, landing with thunderous clashes. He leaned over, his hands upon his knees as he gritted his teeth and clenched shut his eyes. He took a breath and mad a sound in the form of a drawn out wail of laughter. 

He stripped his clothes and wailed in laughter, which as Sleipnir shifted and returned to his natural shape he bucked, jumped, and whinnied in happiness. What else could he do but celebrate this magnificent end of all things? Another whinny escaped him as he bolted forward, bucking and jumping as he darted about bits of shattered sky. 

The world was ablaze, the world humanity created was gone. The rest of the Nine were most likely suffering the same glorious fate, the same helplessness. For all the wars they had suffered, for all the pain and misery it was all for naught. In the end nothing mattered, not the bloodshed or the sorrow.

Nothing had ever mattered to begin with.

Sleipnir’s beating hooves carried him through the blazing city, past the former reign of man and the tranny of his mother. Even if he had failed them all, he warned them as it was all he could do. But Yggdrasil had this planned since the beginning, if it had not been this it would have been Ragnarok. Ragnarok with its gloriously bloody battle of gods would have been the death of all things in their entirety.

This was wholly different.

This was a cleansing.

This was hope.

Sleipnir slowed and halted in the center of the city, the giant park that he had enjoyed more than once in so few short months. He listened to the burning flames that licked at metal, glass, and concrete as it turned all to ashes around him. All Sleipnir could do was to lower his head and graze from the sweet grass, his ears flickering to catch all cacophonic symphony of destruction. He snorted and reared with a started as the ground fissured, shivered and slowly began to give way.

The colossal eight-limbed steed nearly bolted but paused, not out of fear, but at the softly glowing figure of white. Yggdrasil herself had come for him, to claim him to her tender breast and hold him as a mother would. To Sleipnir’s ears the chaos fell quiet in the wake of its creator and time seemed to stand quite still. With large brown eyes the stallion watched as the maiden approached him, only pausing when she was quite near.

Sleipnir snorted and nickered calmly in greeting, knowing what was to come.

A tender kiss to his nose from her warm lips.

Suddenly his legs buckled, the legendary horse’s strength sapped from him so suddenly. He could hear it as his head landed upon the grass, the panicked thundering of her heart in his ears. Sleipnir could to have been calmer in this moment however. His burdens would be erased from him, his sorrows and sacrifices torn away as pages could be torn from a book. Sleipnir closed his wearied eyes at last.

He could feel the shattering of the ground as Midgard suddenly seemed continue with its violent death. He slid like a doll on the grass and suddenly felt like he was falling endlessly through nothingness. However Sleipnir was more than confident, more than at ease with this fate he had met.

Soon the thunder, with its wild and panicked sound, slowly and drummed to a stop.

This was a better fate for him.

BEHINDTHEBARS IS BACK AGAIN.

((Drabble for Regime))