By the Side of the Road [A LOKI FANFIC]

Painting

In which Kenna does something nice for someone she cares about, Loki is still not better and someone gets creative. Oh, and Daniel's back, again.

But he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind not dreaming, because he knows that dreams can so easily become nightmares, and he's always found it hard to wake up from them. Besides, he tells himself, dreaming is for children. And the innocent. And he's anything but. Perhaps he was innocent, once, but people change, and gods do, too. Except he didn't want to change, was forced to change. Had his mind twisted and contorted until it was barely recognisable. Until it wasn't his, any more. Whilst he lived on the streets, he'd overheard someone say that you dream what you think about. He'd dream about ice, then. Ice, and snow, and unwanted voyages into strange, dangerous lands. Because his true heritage was always there, just under his skin, reminding him that his entire life was a lie.  Perhaps he was better off, not dreaming at all. His dreams would have been haunted by demons, anyway. Because he was haunted by demons.

 Kenna wakes up from her pleasant dream, feeling fresh and invigorated. She gets out of the bed, silently wondering when she'd gotten in, and picks up the plate left over from last night, before checking to see that Loki is still sound asleep. She smiles briefly, and then hurries out, washing up the plate as quickly as she can. She's drying her hands when she catches sight of the clock on the opposite wall.

It's only six o'clock, and she had slept for a shorter amount of time than she had thought. Still, that was a good thing, considering all of the ideas bouncing around in her head. She goes into the living room, and opens the bottom drawer in the cabinet on the left. It's much bigger than it looks, and she reaches deep inside it, and pulls out a thick stack of draft paper, as well as some poster paints, a few sketching pencils, a pot of pastels, her acrylics, and, finally, her treasured watercolours. Then, she drags it all to Loki's room, intending to use it there, whilst simultaneously keeping an eye on him.

She then goes to her room, and retrieves several lumps of clay and dubious looking pieces of wood. She makes her way to the very back of her room, behind her four-poster, where her canvas, and its canvas holder lurks, buried under a fine layer of hay-fever inducing dust. She manages to restrain herself from a cliched sneeze, and hoists it up onto her shoulder, wobbling unsteadily back to Loki.

She's pretty sure that there's a more efficient way of carrying it, but she really doesn't have the time to find it out now. With an ease that comes from years of doing it completely wrong, she sets it up, and then ignores it entirely, instead sprawling messily on the floor, legs in the air, as she sketches out what little she can remember from her rapidly fading dream.

She starts with the forest, adding splashes of her watercolours here and there. She soon finishes, and she puts it on one side to dry, after quickly scribbling 'Draft for Corridor' at the bottom. She thinks about doing the World Tree next, but her brush-hand seems to have an idea of its own, and so she lets her mind wander as her hand paints a scene of an underwater paradise. There are mermaids, and treasure chests, and the broken, rotting hulls of shipwrecked boats, with sea animals flitting through the shadows. Satisfied, she smiles at it, before labelling it 'Loki's Bathroom'.

And then she starts on a new piece of paper. This one is rapidly covered in dark blue, with strange swirls of light. It takes her a while to realise what it is, but once she does, it's startlingly obvious. She's painted the universe. And it's kinda beautiful. She decides to designate it to her room, and quickly labels it, before setting it aside to dry with the others.She starts another sketch, barely paying attention at all. When she does look at it properly, she freezes in shock.

For her mind has decided that it wanted her to draw Loki.

She quickly rips it up, and soaks the pieces in water, so that she can reuse it. She likes recycling her own paper. She doesn't trust herself with her precious draft paper any more, and so she reaches for the clay, skilfully moulding it into different shapes.