Loki's fall (sequel to loss and Loki)

Prologue

An entire story later and I still don't know if the prologue even goes at the start :/ or is that the epilogue?

Hey anyone reading this :) this book is a sequel to my other fic 'Loss and Loki' you should totally check it out before reading this I'm fairly sure it's worth the read :~

I hope you enjoy this even bigger hot mess of a book and vote and comment your thoughts and/or vine references, pop culture references, jokes in general, random shit that don't make sense. You know, anything really
Anyways...

A/N: flashbacks in italics

Enjoy :)

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Sometimes in life, like for example right now, I tend to think about things a lot. Like why the hell I've got to twenty seven and I'm only just now learning how to live a 'normal' life.

I stood before the stove in the kitchen, glaring disdainfully at the sick textured pile of orange shit stuck to the pan. It was rolling off a great deal of smoke from its contact to the hot metal and the vague warning in my head began to nag that the smoke alarm would soon be screaming it's provoked whines at the pathetic, smoking pile of waste I'd offended it's sensors with.

I sneered in irritation and dropped the entire pan into the bowl of water, that sat in my sink, with an irritatingly placid plop. Maybe if I let it drown beneath the water, if I held it under until it fell still, dead. it would cease the problems it was causing me. Out of sight, out of mind.

I scooped up my inoffensive coffee from the counter and strode over to the window to sip quietly and contemplate. There were a number of things swirling around my head that I needed to organise, one being the fact that owning a Delia Smith cookbook had not aided me in the slightest for my travels in 'cookery'. And the other, being that pile of shit I'd stored in the back of my brain that was basically every damn thing that had happened between the battle of New York and the present day.

So... two years In fact.

Two years of occurrences and thoughts and memories that I still hadn't found the means to process yet. Two years that I didn't exactly feel  willing to process. It seemed I was perfectly happy living with self induced amnesia for the time being; floating in between the surface of reality with no grounding whatsoever. No pain, no fear, no despair. It was bliss.

Part of me knew though, that it was on that specific day that I'd stopped caring at all. Since the day in question, I'd been...distant.. so to speak. I'd finally been able to free myself from the ties of emotion and I'd become the very thing I'd been trying to become for as long as I could remember. Stone cold, apathetic, efficient.

It was that very day, I remembered it so clearly, but I refused to believe the events of the day were linked with it. It was just a simple coincidence, nothing more.

The last time I'd seen Loki... the day he departed from Earth. That was the day I lost grip on the last shred of humanity I still clung to.

I swirled the contents of my mug and pulled a face.

"Bastard." I muttered aloud. He'd known exactly what he was doing. But of course he'd failed ultimately. Fortunately. I could never let anyone bring such downfall upon me. I was fairly sure it was entirely impossible and for that, I was grateful, and resentful.

I brought my palm up into my eye line as I had done obsessively for the first few months after New York. The branding that engraved it had not faded in the slightest since the day it had scarred me and it, as usual, fought a waging battle with my conscience to flood my mind with memories I'd resent.