The Seventh Stone

Chapter Eight

With 'superlative' care, it takes the full three days for my hand to heal. In the meantime, I've been passing the time in bed, propped up against the wall with a book and paper in my lap—sketching the view outside my window. Granted, it's been hard to do with the cuts on my hand, which is why it's also taken me the full three days, as opposed to my usual hour at the most.

On the third morning, Loki comes up to my room around midday.

"Good morning," he says, and his long, green cape trails over his ankles as he steps over the topmost stair. He pauses for a moment, scanning the little balls of paper strewn about the floor, before continuing toward me.

I look up, hand flattened relaxedly against the page, and lower the book down onto my blanket-covered lap. "Morning," I respond.

Loki strides over to the foot of the bed, eyes dropping down to the sketch. "Finished that one, did you?"

I nod, glancing down at it. "Yeah, this one's less embarrassing," I mumble, taking the corner of the page and holding it up against the light before me—where all the tiny strokes and smudges of the graphite are plainly visible against the sheet. It's far from perfect, but not offensive either.

"Glad to hear it," he says, stepping over to the window. "But I suggest you take a rest—it may interest you to see what's going on outside."

I raise a brow suspiciously, nudging the book and paper toward the right, and blanket to the left. The night gown I was given trails behind me as I slide off the mattress, and the chill, hardwood floor cools my feet as I step closer to the window.

I look up at Loki, and his head sways slightly as he surveys the ground for a moment. "There," he mumbles, tapping a finger against the glass as a gesture to my right. 

I turn, nearly pressing my face against the glass to see what he's talking about. Through the myriad of large spaceships and other airborne vessels, I see the courtyard that we entered into from afar. Only this time, I can vaguely make out a small crowd that's layered against the sides, with two or three people moving about sporadically in the middle.

"What's going on?" I mumble, and my breath fogs up the glass.

"No idea," he says, as I turn and face him. "But if you've recovered, it may be the occasion to make good on our plans."

I nod contemplatively as I step away from the glass, running my hands over the top of my hair. We discussed it at length a few days ago, how we'd go down to the ground, and Loki would hocus-pocus us a brand new pair of faces. The idea's so much more amusing to me than it should have been—especially when he mentioned he could even change us into Olen and his father. Oh, the carnage that'd assuredly ensue...

"I agree. And we have our plan," I exhale sharply and step back, raising both hands in front of me in a gesture. "So go ahead and do it, just... Make it fast."

Loki tilts his head wryly. "What—didn't like it the first time?"

I wince slightly, remembering how he'd changed my appearance for a moment the other day, to give me an idea of how it'd go. Call it a bone-deep sensation...

"Well," I shrug sarcastically. "First time's always the worst."

Loki blinks and looks away, brows rising  with a subtle grin. "Are you ready?" he croaks amusedly.

"Mhm," I respond in like.

"Good," he says, looking back, and waves a hand quickly through the air without warning.

With a flash of light, I shudder as the familiar feeling of brushing fabrics erupts all over my skin, and pressure presses outward from inside my ears and cheeks. I look up at Loki, whose hair is now a light brown color, and his pale blue eyes are a deeper shade of blue. The sides of his face and neck are etched with green tattoos, and his leather uniform is replaced by a dark green shirt with a long, sleeveless blazer-vest with hanging, metallic embellishments.

I look down at myself next—at the patterned, half-sleeved dress tumbling over the curves of my body, and ending at my knees. To top off the simplistic look, my unchanged hair spirals over my shoulder in a loose, elegant braid, and green tattoos spread across my own exposed skin.

I look up at him, raising a brow. "I take it green's your favorite color?"

Loki grins, wrinkling his nose with a demonstrative nod. "It's quite 'me.'"

The corner of my mouth curls with a grin. "Fair enough," I raise both hands to my hips. "So now what?" I cock my head in the direction of the door. "Are we going down the way we came up?"

"No other way—if you're ready."

I turn briefly, glancing down at the book resting on the unmade bed, along with the the dark leather suit hanging over one of the frames.

"Mhm," I bob my head downward. "I think I'm ready."

[to be continued