Mended Pieces

The Sickness of the Deprived

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LOKI

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     Hazel suffocated me with the sweetest kiss, a fiery envelopment of a love built from rage. White hot hands running through my midnight hair - short. Her pulling away was the real suffocation and I realized I had been lying to myself the whole time. "I feel for you" would never be enough.

     A tongue more wicked than mine shot out, licking her lips. A soft chuckle that didn't belong to that venomous throat scattered in deep purples. Stoic face filled with tragedy turned back to stone. "You're going to be the end of me."

     "Most likely." Lying was all I knew how to do, even though I knew when the truth needed to be said the most. 'Gods, I hope not' was what was really on the tip of my tongue. Her pain was the last thing I wanted to stem from me, yet that seemed to be all that could be done when my barbed fingertips grazed her silk skin - snagging. But, no matter how hard I tried to keep my hands to myself, I couldn't help but corrupt the masterpiece that lay before me. I could no longer run from her gaze, only run towards it.

     Her brows furrowed - smooth porcelain cracking. "I thought Gods weren't supposed to get sick?"

     'What?'

     Translucent black ichor seeped from her eyes and nose, wearing a smile as soft as a rose petal.

     Breath escaped my lungs in a rush, bright light piercing my eyes harshly as they shot open. It wasn't unusual to have those dreams - watching as Tera decays right before me in one way or another. Though, no matter how many times my brain can concoct a scenario of the like, there's no way I'll ever get used to it. I'll never not wake up terrified. It didn't help that every morning I woke for the last three, almost four, weeks she was absent in being the first thing I saw each day. I had gotten quite comfortable in that routine after years of being deprived.

     Hushed voices from outside the small house I was in made their way to my ears.

     "I thought Gods weren't supposed to get sick?"

     My heart stopped, breath hitching in my throat at the words. Disappointment washed over me quickly when I realized it wasn't Tera's voice.

     "He's not sick, just weak. We all are - the lack of food has been affecting everyone, but I didn't realize him and the King had been giving up their rations for us. Even before we started gathering."

     "Thor seems to be doing better than Loki, though. Do you think it's because he's Jotun?"

     My blood ran cold (naturally). It still felt nothing short of a sin hearing the name of my race. I sat up slowly, noticing quickly how much pain my body is in.

     "Could be. At this rate, the God could die before us."

     "Not happening." I muttered lowly, tongue dry and voice hoarse. My stomach growled painfully, my mouth watering as bile tried to make its way up my throat. It became difficult to suppress the memories of being in Thanos' hold when I felt almost the exact same way as I did then. Deprived. Though, I was thankful I was in different company.

     My pale hands shakily grasped the cup of water next to the makeshift bed, bringing the rim to my lips with a shudder. How I got into the house - I did not know. The handmade toys scattered on the dusty floor let me know I was in Gunn's home. The youthful laughter of her brother's could easily be heard through the door and cracked walls.