Perfect Liar - Loki

Alternating

It was the third week of training, and Amira's skills had developed massively. She had began to attempt the art of throwing knives, a hobby that Loki actually seemed to enjoy for once.

"Channel all your anger into the blade."

"They were supposed to protect me," she threw a knife, hitting the edge of the target, "to help me," she threw a second.

"Yes they were." There was a darkness in his tone, as well as his eyes, but moreso in a form of twisted delight in awareness of your conditioned aversion emerging.

"And they left me," she threw again, sighing, "with you." She threw a final knife with intense force, hitting the target in the direct centre as Loki began to grin out of her sight.

That day was the first she had seen Loki laugh from legitimate enjoyment as they both threw towards targets flippantly once she had mastered the skill, possibly the only time that they had not been somewhat irritated by eachother's presence. 

Collecting the knives from the floor and targets, she looked up to Loki. "Admit it, you're beginning to tolerate me." She spoke her observation. He was silent, so she began again, "you can choose to not answer if you're too afraid of being caught in a lie."

"Not a chance." A smile, not the malicious grin she was used to, remained on Loki's face, "do not confuse enjoyment of the sport with enjoyment of your company."

Oh, but was he wrong.

"Liar."

"I am not lying to you." He looked down to her, slightly more sternly. Another lie.

"I'm deeply sorry to inform you of it Loki, but the light I'm seeing around you says otherwise."

"And I'm deeply sorry to inform you of this, but I think your 'magic' happens to be defective." The sarcasm in his smile returned with a more malicious tone as they finished for that day.

"Is the God of Lies in denial of lying? I understand it must be... humbling to know of someone you cannot deceive." The two walked alongside one another towards the exit of the room. He rolled his eyes in response as they took their separate ways in the corridor.

The next day, however, entirely contrasted what they had just experienced.

-

"If Barton could do it, so can you." Loki spat the sentence out, with daggers for eyes, as she let the bow and arrow fall to her side in her hand.

"It may be a shock to you Loki, but I'm not Barton. This skill is hardly a necessity to master, it was his, not mine."

"Try again." He demanded.

The day had been demanding and repetitive enough, and he'd been argumentative the entire morning, which led her to slam to bow down to the floor with all the force she had as she seethed. "No."

He walked up to her slowly, looking down at her with superiority, "what?"

"Did you not hear me?" She tilted her head up and looked him directly in the eyes, "I said: no."

"You're on thin-"

"No, Loki, you've been pathetically demanding all morning, where yesterday you laughed with me, what gives you the right to snap all of a sudden?"

"The laughter was nothing but at your inadequacy." His gaze was severe, if it were not for her nature, she would've believed every word that left his mouth.

"When will you learn that I can quite literally see when you lie?"

He sighed, oddly combining it with a shake of his head and a grin, that grin. "If I knew you were going to be such an inconvenience, I would've left you to die on that ship."

Her expression relaxed in shock, she didn't see a lie.

"What's the matter? Getting all angry that I don't speak the truth, and upset once I do? Perhaps you are just as weak as I anticipated from the start."

She became more enraged than ever before. She took one forward to him and absolutely let go, exclaiming as loud as humanly possible. "If you so wholeheartedly believe that," she held one of the arrows, placing the sharpened head to her chest, taking him by surprise as she quickly raised his hand around her own, forcing him to hold the arrow there. He did not let go, as he was perfectly able, nor did he pull his hand away in disgust. "Then just rid yourself of me, Loki, if you are so truthfully willing. Do it yourself rather than cowering in the past of 'would've.' Yesterday I found you genuinely tolerating me, and now this? And at this point, after three weeks if I'm still so pathetically inadequate, you may as well, because I'd rather-"

She cut herself off when she noticed Loki looking less than comfortable. His eyes revealed a curiosity that could also be met with mild fear and confusion. Growing impatient of his lack of response, she exclaimed, "say something!"

"I need you to lower your hands. Now." It was not demanding, it was cautious.

"What do you mean my-" she looked to her hands, that had a familiar green energy harbouring around them, growing. "Do I look like I'm in the mood for your illusions, Loki?"

He looked up at her and shook his head in a way that indicated he was unsure.

"Stop it!" The energy flared up slightly more.

"This isn't my doing." He held his hands up in innocence, eyes fixated on hers.

"Oh, st-" then she realised. There was no indication of a lie. Her eyes widened, spiked slightly to water in sheer fear of herself. "You're getting around the lie somehow, just take this seriously and listen-"

"Let me make this clear, I have no part in... that. It would not benefit me at all to do so, not even amusement." The energy calmed to nothing as she still saw no untruth.

Staring at her now shaking hands, she stumbled to the floor. Loki was unable to feel sympathetic, but his curiosity and need to understand what had just occurred kept him in place.

"Loki, what is this?"

"It seemed to respond to your emotion- I think.- What colour had you seen when you see lies?"

"I-Like... an amber-orange colour, why is that relevant?"

Loki's eyes flicked up to hers. "I'll make sure to look into it." His lack of empathy presented itself when he helped her up and simply instructed, "rest today in your quarters. Nap, bathe, however you choose to spend the day, but try to keep you emotions calm until I figure out what that was."

-

Loki closed the door to Amira's room, and let out and audible sigh has he raised a hand to his head, pausing before he made his way to get some air in his usual place at the entrance. His own outburst was somewhat regrettable, but he was well aware he couldn't control it even if he had tried. The impact the scepter had on him was brutal, and on days like this- being slightly away from it, leaving it in the lab, he had been able to be aware, to feel regret. 

Something alike to joy was felt the previous day, he felt like himself, though he didn't yet understand that yet, and the current day was something alike punishment of that from his own mind. One corner of his mind punished him in the form of the effects spiking that day. Another part, however, was fully and completely him; No part of him believed he deserved that laugh that had escaped him, and he most certainly couldn't be distracted from 'his' goal. 

That was why she was such an inconvenience, not her inability to hit the centre of a target with an arrow. That was why he was so certain that he should've left her for death.

And now Amira proposed another potential issue: the flares of green that he twice caused to appear in her hands, where no longer his doing. First, a human possessing magic separating truth from falsehood, resistance to the scepter's strength- which even he could not withstand, and now unintentional flares that replicated his own. He ran his hands through his untamed hair as he stormed to his own room, where he slammed the door ferociously. 

He had not thought of his mother since letting go, where he had intended for no future. 'She would know what this is,' he thought to himself. But if he were able to communicate with her now, he would not have been in this position at all, rather, she now thought him dead.