A Second Chance // Thorki

Chapter eighteen

They'd remained in that pool for a long while, the two of them talking and laughing and joking with each other until Laverne had returned with two small plates of what looked like various root vegetables.

Loki climbed out of the pool, standing at the side, dripping wet, his brother soon following him with a grin.

"Merci, Laverne." Loki bowed his head respectfully before taking the plate of food, Thor having already grabbed his and started to wander away. "Thor tells me you speak English?"

Laverne tensed up a bit, eyes narrowing. "I can. But I chose not to." His voice was deep, rich, and heavily accented, his lips dark and full and kissable. He was tall, for a hamadryad, almost Loki's height, while most of them got to the average height of about 4'7. His hair was short, and as curly as it could be, his skin a deep chocolate brown and his eyes a luminous green.

He was gorgeous.

And soon enough, Loki found his words slipping into silvertongue, his voice smooth and rich. "Don't bother making an effort to speak English if you do not wish to. Is it alright if I speak in English, and you speak french? We both understand eachother... and it'd be much easier that way. Not to mention it would piss off Thor."

The two of them turned to look at said man, who had raised his head at his name. "What?"

Loki just smiled and continued the conversation. "Is there any possible way we could stay the night? We'll go back to our ship if necessary, but that'd be quite a waste of fuel, if you ask me."

"Nous on une place où vous peux reposer, pour la nuit. Mais vous deux vont besoin de partager une chambre." (We have a place where you can rest, for the night. But you two will have to share a room.)

"Sharing a room is no problem."

Thor stopped in his tracks, and Loki didn't have to look at him to feel the rather mischievous grin. "Are the rooms soundproof?"

Loki mentally face-palmed, however did not show it on his face, with an exception of the heavy blush that he didn't brother covering up. "This whole palace is made of stone, Thor, what do you think? I'm sure the walls will be thick enough to be at least somewhat soundproof."

Laverne nodded, looking somewhat confused, but he carried on. "Les chambres sont petit, mais ils vont fonctionner pour maintenant. Est-ce que je peux demander des questions apropos de votre société est tous ça?"
(The rooms are small, but they'll work for now. Can I ask you questions about your society and all that?)

"Of course, of course." Loki looked down at his sad, wet clothes, and with a snap of his fingers they were back on him and he was perfectly dry, this time in a slightly different outfit, one that was not made of leather or any of the thick materials of Asgard. He'd copied the fabrics of the hamadryads, something much more... fluid, lose and colourful against his pale skin. It covered a lot more than what the hamadryad's typical outfits did. It was a deep green, and was more of a fitted toga than anything.

Thor loved it, though he said nothing, wandering over to steal what looked like a purple carrot off of Loki's untouched plate.

Loki and Laverne spoke, and Thor listened closely, hanging around the area to eavesdrop while the two of them paced and conversed.

"No, our parents are dead. Yes, we're young. Our mother was murdered, I killed my father and his father died of old age."

The two of them talked long after Thor had finished his meal and set down his plate.

"No, he does not have a queen yet. He's barely even a king. There hasn't been a coronation, last time I checked."

Thor had been steadily stealing bites of food from Loki's plate, the trickster not even bothering to acknowledge him.