With the patience and maturity of a man much older than his 900 years, Thor brushed past the crowd of fatuous students that were milled around the hallway like mindless sheep. Blinking back a frown, he stretched his spine to its maximum length and squared his shoulders as he proceeded to gently shove the curious onlookers away from his direction of path.
Almost three inches taller (and 200 hundred years older) than most of the teenagers here, it didn't take much to intimidate them.
He couldn't say the same for his short, and considerably impatient, lifelong friend, who frequently barked "Remove yourself!" to the many students who didn't even notice his presence, who were too in awe of Thor's to particularly care.
As the large crowd dissipated, Thor could just about see that familiar curtain of raven, noir hair flattened against the huge stone pillar of the Festival Hall.
He hadn't seen this place in years, not since he had graduated from Asgard High of Mixed Arts and Practices.
He couldn't say that the reunion was particularly heart warming either, because the sight of his younger brother squished against the Granite Stone, huge snail tracks of tears scarring his cheeks, fueled enough rage to power the thunderous skies for many millennia.
An ominous rumble echoed across the plane, followed by shocked gasps and murmurs from the ever-growing crowd behind him.
A lanky boy, with impressive silver locks and huge, grey eyes whipped around to face the infamous Thor, in the process releasing Loki from whatever spell he had cast upon him.
The boy's frantic and choked gasps of breath upon being released was enough to pull another warning rumble from the clouds above, matching the protective, older brother's trembling quite brilliantly.
"Sir," the silver-boy began, clearly sensing danger. His voice was raspy and deeply drawn at the base of his throat, like the vocals of a fox, Thor recognized. His clothes were detailed, extravagant and carefully pressed, indicating that he indeed belonged to a very powerful family, perhaps that of wizards or sorcerers. He was certainly not a clever boy, despite what his robes may suggest, as he had decided to make a fool of one of the most widely known boy's of their time. "I bid your brother no harm, our witnesses may defend that we were just... playing."
You may already have comprehended that Thor is the first born son of a very wealthy and very powerful being, who is largely known as the Allfather of Asgard. Odin Borson, feared by realms, planets, universes and galaxies. A God.
Which makes Thor a God.
Which makes Loki a God, albeit, not a very convincing one.
"Brother? Brother!"
There it was. That incessant whine that often drove Oh-Patient-Thor to the brink of insanity.
That shocking, high frequency mewl which often forced the Allfather to snap and curse and berate.
And, of course, that would cause Thor to defend the adolescent brat, because Loki is his brother, and he always will protect him.
No matter what the time or circumstance. Thor would always save his brother.
"I believe its time we leave for home, brother." Thor sighed, glancing briefly behind him at the dissolving crowds and his old friend's solemn face analyzing them intently from the busy doors. The silver-boy had seemingly shrunk into the shadows, his presence no longer gracing them.
Thor didn't mind much at all, considering he was far too exhausted to play soldier this evening, after a magnificently taxing day spent at the Defense and Attack classes at his work. All had been going well, until Thor received news of a certain troublemaker in peril.
"But, I-,"
"Not now, Loki!" Thor snapped, months of built up tension and anger bubbling over the surface like a shaken soda can. Again, the heavy rumble of the skies downed out the noise from the teenagers outside, the evening light darkening from the sun's temporary captivity.
Loki stood there, still shaken from the torment inflicted upon him not three moments ago. His dark eyes were round and his bottom lip trembled with conviction. He was obviously hurt and frightened by Thor's outburst and the sudden use of his birth name.
In their family, names were often only used as a formality or to extenuate anger, and the poor boy didn't know which potential reason scared him most.
"Are we becoming estranged?" Loki whispered, fingers tracing the delicate designs of his armored chest, the thick materials doing nothing to hide the fact that the child beneath it was skin and bone. Vulnerable. "Or are you... angry. At me?"
Conflicting emotions; heartache. Those were two very human feelings that Thor Odinson despised, especially in regards to his family and closest friends.
The brother within him wanted nothing more than to cradle the younger and defend him from the world and all of its cruelty but another; saner part of him knew that he would only be damaging Loki further in the long-term.
With constant coddling, he could never grow to learn from his failures and mistakes. Perhaps it was his father's warnings and comments no longer falling onto deaf ears. Or maybe it was Thor himself, reaching a more intelligent milestone in his maturity.
All he knew was that Loki and he needed some safe distance apart. After all, he wouldn't always be there to pick him back up again.
"I'm not angry." Thor shrugged, breezing down the now empty hallway with mastered grace. He narrowed his eyes at a stern looking Draven, his short and considerably impatient friend, as the giant marble doors grew near. His next words broke his heart to utter.
"I'm disappointed."
