Another Chance

Fight

Loki spent the morning classes reading the script. He ignored the classes, except to make an appearance and turn in pending assignments. If any of his teachers were annoyed by his obvious and total lack of interest in what they were saying, none of them showed it. Maybe it was because of his impeccable performance up to that point.

Or maybe because of the homicidal energy that Loki gave off.

With each page his desire to strangle Sylvie increased exponentially. It was much, much worse than he had expected. Loki was not the villain of the story, no. He was a fucking tragic hero. Sylvie had taken his story and turned it into a Shaksperian play.

As he began to read Loki wondered if he had used what he had told him of his life before the fall through the Bifrost. It soon became clear that it wasn't. Or rather, not only that. The story continued after his fall. Some things were familiar to him from the glimpses the Voice had given him of his hypothetical future after the void. Loki wondered how much Sylvie had embellished and changed it.

A much bigger part, a wounded and defeated part of himself, he wondered how it was possible that this variant of himself that had lived through this was still in one piece. How was it possible that he still had the ability to trust someone enough to tell him his story. And that idea only increased the anger inside him.

To make matters worse, it had excellent literary quality, far superior to what a school play should have. The feeling of admiration for Sylvie's skill as a playwright only added fuel to a fire that did not stop growing.

By the time lunchtime came, Loki had finished reading the script. It took all of his willpower to contain the urge to set it on fire again. Especially since he wasn't sure he could control fire on the script. It also took all of his self-control to stay calm and look civil as he marched toward the main building. He didn't enter the cafeteria.

On one hand he didn't want to expose himself to Sigyn seeing him and worrying about his inability to eat (yet again). Or worse yet, expose her to his bad mood. Sigyn had only seen a glimpse of his moody character, and he wasn't about to show fully to it.

For another, he needed to have Sylvie alone. Preferably in a place where, even if he couldn't hide from Fury's gaze, he at least didn't have more of an audience. As soon as he saw her in the crowd he walked over to her, took her by the arm and before anyone else was aware of it he pulled her to the side of the building. The same one where she had threatened him with the dagger, that first day. Sylvie resisted, but Loki was too angry to care about hurting her.

He pushed her against the wall when they were out of sight, and though he was tempted to draw his own dagger he held back.

"What the hell is this?" he growled at her instead, holding her shoulders with one hand and waving the script in front of her with the other.

"A script," she said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Do not play the fool! It's my fucking story!"

Sylvie laughed.

"Just as narcissistic," she spat, shaking her head. "You're not the only Loki I know, remember?"

"I don't give a shit! It's still part of my story." He shook her, slamming her once more against the wall. "You have no right to expose me like that."

Sylvie pressed her lips together. Fury flared in her eyes, making the green glow even brighter.

"Right? Do you want to talk about rights? He had no right to send me here, to take away the revenge he had been planning for years! He took away everything I had left!" she growled. "And now you come along, walking around with that bloody face, making friends like you deserved it!"