#unityopen

I love High School yearbooks. I love them so much. Please all enjoy this image of Sean Grant before he was hot. You did well with Puberty, bro.

Chaos. That was the only word to describe the world around Loki. Where there had, only moments before, been nothing but the boredom that was elicted from a particularly boring session in which he gained no knowledge he could not have found out for himself… now there were screams and shouts and the sense of fear on the air so thick that he could taste it. It was chaos in the most basal of forms, and to Loki, it was glorious.

Of course, he wouldn’t show that it would glorious. He was fairly sure that if he decided to just stand on the sidelines and watch while the mortal forms fought mortal forms, he would be met with nothing but the most disturbing of frowny faces when this was all over and done.

It was good that there was quite a large part of Loki that actually wanted to help, however. Being met with frowny faces wasn’t enough of an impulse to get involved on its own. The fact was that the last time this had happened, for it had happened before, Loki and gotten involved because he felt like he had to. He felt like he needed to protect those around him, those who were naught by children. It was the same feeling that he felt now.

Somehow this building and the people that dwelled within it had worked its way into become his, mortals and those linked to his flesh and magic alike, and Loki had always been a possessive god. Having people repeatedly attempt to take that which was his through chaos (which was also his, a fact that just made it worse) was really becoming an infuriating thing indeed.

This chaos was glorious, yes, but after only a short while of bathing in it and the screams which echoed through the halls, Loki felt his patience draw thin. It was the familiar snake like symbol which caused the strand to snap within his mind.

Do not fulfill their promises.

I got a pet! So, if you see an ant roughly the size of a German Shepherd, I promise she’s friendly! I went through an entire day of deciding which little girl would do well this size, don’t worry.

Cassius sat in the middle of the garden after the rain.

Camellias. Daisies. Sunflowers. Dandelions. Grass. The slow trail of gold exited the mansion and followed the touch of the young (well not quite but how could they know?) mutant’s hand. The blades and flowers are wet, it’s summer and the rain feels warm, something it’s hard not to appreciate. Even if it was more of a storm rather than just some summer rain, even if the ground is soaked and Cassius clothes are completely damp from standing under the downpour. They don’t really mind. The solitude and quietness feels nice enough, ever since leaving Mexico, it’s probably the first time the world sounds quiet again. 

Taking the key that hangs in the necklace on his neck, Cassius takes off both handcuffs. Once or twice a day, the attempt is so that the chaffing will diminish and the scarring on the wrists. Thity years of scars. Of course they’ll never go away but at least breathing a bit could make the raw, angry red looks go away. It itches and burns some times, as much as they try not to mind it so. Rolling the sleeves up. Putting both devices into the pockets an yet watching the edges of the clothes start turning gold, Cassius touches the plants on his way along the garden.

The trail of foliage slowly turns into a path as the leaves solidify. The shade is always the very same but Cassius likes it, as entire pieces of flowers and grass turn into the precious metal. It’s not a big patch of the garden, nor so much out in the open but undeniably, it was by his hand that happened. They end up sitting in a spot shadowed by a willow, back pressed against the trunk and watching the now drying plants after the rain. 

There are camo patterns everywhere. Why are we back to this shit? I thought we left that hideous fashion trend in 2006. Christ.