Dark Star || Loki [1]

[05] The Boy Next Door (and a Universe Away)

13 JANUARY, 2011

ASTRID

"What the fuck was that?" Astrid cried out to the darkness, struggling to find her footing.

Finally, the light dimmed to a vivid memory. When she blinked, she saw white dots on her closed eyelids. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could make out the faint silhouette of a person, crouched low in the dissipating smoke, she scrambled to her feet and saw a large circular imprint in the cement, engraved with obscure markings.

Astrid inched closer to the figure, who was keeled over in the center of the circle, panting. She felt through her coat and lightly grasped the small knife lodged in her belt.

"Who are you?" she asked the figure. Firm and dominant. Good start.

He finally stood to his full height and faced her directly. She had expected a wily, wiry, wild man with hair growing from his ears and a sack for clothing, not—

Astrid blinked. Through the leering dark she saw wide green eyes, glimmering with their own clusters of nuclear stars. They darted aimlessly around, galaxies colliding in those frantic irises. He was a walking contrast: light and dark, strong and all at once so frail he was swaying on his long legs. And—Astrid made sure to check—he had no hair growing from his ears. He could have been normal. And he was certainly beautiful.

His attire was an entirely different story. He wore a long leather coat with green lapels, dark trousers, and a tunic made of black leather with gold and silver metal fastenings, all engraved with equally strange markings. His large, graceful hands clutched at something under his coat on the left side of his abdomen.

Eyes wide and white cheeks tinted pink, he stared down at her. "Who are you?"

His voice was deep and smooth and somehow was not at all what she had expected. Astrid managed to barely overcome her momentary shock. "I asked you first."

His clean eyebrows were slightly creased. "I am Loki," he said, "of Asgard."

Astrid couldn't help it. The tiny laugh slipped out, so pitifully quiet she didn't need to cover her mouth with her hand. She never laughed.

"Once more, with sanity." She stepped closer, scanning for any sense of truth beneath his startling green eyes. "Who are you?"

"You're either deaf or stupid. I am Loki, of Asgard," he said again, turning up his nose with a sneer. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Her eyebrows lifted. "All right, Your Majesty the Queen. And you're... what? Burdened with glorious purpose?"

He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the right. "I rather like the sound of that."

She laughed again. He was pathetic, bloody, and pale, dripping with condescension and an insolent vocabulary. Astrid said, "I think you might have suffered some trauma to the head."

With fantastic timing, the man stumbled forwards. Astrid managed to catch him before he toppled on top of her, pushing against his shoulders with all her might. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and then he opened them long enough to gather his composure and stand upright.

Astrid gave him a pointed look. "I promise not to make fun of your stupid outfit if you want me to patch you up."

She didn't know why she offered.

The man who called himself Loki winced. "I don't need hospitality from little things like you," he croaked.

Astrid moved aside one of the flaps on his coat to reveal a large swath of blood cutting cleanly through the fabric covering his torso, from his chest to his waist. "Let me guess—'tis but a scratch?"