Little stories of love and joy.

Loki

Loki, Silvy, and Mobius found themselves on a mission together, battling their way through a chaotic fight. As they bantered and fought side by side, their camaraderie grew stronger. But it was Loki who bore the brunt of the enemy's attack, their mission specifically targeting him for elimination.

Sitting on an upturned crate, Silvy took a moment to catch her breath and poured herself a glass of whisky. Mobius, ever observant, gazed around the area, making his usual witty remarks. Loki, however, sat down next to Silvy on his own crate, his face paler than usual, his body covered in wounds. He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to heal himself, his eyes flickering with a green hue.

Concerned, Mobius stepped closer to Loki, asking if everything was alright. Silvy watched with interest, curious about Loki's condition. Loki smiled, trying to brush off their worries. "Of course," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of strain. "My magic doesn't work in this area, that's all."

The trio eventually made their way back to the TVA, where Loki found himself sitting on Mobius's table, tending to his wounds. Silvy couldn't help but find amusement in Loki's clumsy attempts at bandaging himself. "You're doing it wrong," she remarked, causing Loki to drop the bandages in frustration.

As the bandages fell, Loki's injuries were revealed—a deep knife slit on his wrist, a cut on his cheek, and a deep gash on his shoulder. Silvy's amusement turned to concern. "I think I don't need your input," Loki retorted, his eyes glowing brighter with a mix of pain and annoyance.

Mobius, sensing the tension, stepped in to diffuse the situation. "Woah, woah, woah, guys, let's chill, alright?" he said, his voice calm and soothing. "Loki, I can help you bandage those wounds properly."

Silvy leaned against another desk, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before her. She watched as Mobius took up the bandages and carefully stitched Loki's wounds, his focus unwavering. Curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't help but ask, "I saw your TVA video, Loki. After the Battle of New York, did you not receive any medical attention?"

Loki spluttered, his expression a mix of horror and bitterness. "I was sent to the dungeons for my crimes, Silvy. Medical attention wasn't exactly an option."

Silvy's shock and horror were evident on her face, realizing the extent of Loki's suffering. Mobius finished stitching Loki's wounds and stood up, declaring, "All done."

Loki smiled softly, a rare sight for him, his usual mischievous grin replaced by a genuine expression of gratitude. "Thank you, Mobius," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

Mobius shrugged, trying to downplay his actions. "Anytime, Lokes. Anytime."

Silvy couldn't help but smile at the nickname Mobius had given Loki. It was a small moment of warmth and connection amidst the chaos of their lives. "Did he just call you Lokes?" she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

Loki's smile widened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Silvy, no," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of fondness.

As they sat there, the three of them, their wounds tended to and their bond strengthened, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. The TVA may be a place of chaos and uncertainty, but in that moment, they found solace in each other's presence.