Gods, the tension was palpable and it drove him to irritability. She was afraid of him, of some offense she had yet to commit. Perhaps she thought him fragile, Loki who had killed plenty of beasts in the frozen wastes of the desolate place his ancestors called home. Loki, whose lips had been sewn shut by a foul dark thing (with silver wire whose only undeserving mercy had come from Frigga, who had enchanted the wire to spill no blood and for it to bear the sharpest of points so the piercing of his skin would be swift and smooth.
He wondered sometimes, though no scars remained on the face he showed the world, what such scars might look like across blue skin). Such things he had endured, the latter of his own fault, and here she was, delicate and careful. "Do you think I will raise violence against you for your every word and thought? What a monster you must think me, and all of my kind." Ah, the irony. It was not color of skin he meant though and she would know it. He lifted his head, the curve of his spine lessening some, as he sat straighter, though still with his arms around his legs. The skin was red from the water.
Alas, not even such things could melt away the beast within. "Did you fear the Allmother? Surely, a wicked and cruel woman she must have been painted in your stories. As all we were to you were hostage takers, war mongerers, I am sure you find peace in her passing." His tone mocked, but it lacked it's well practiced sharpness. His best weapons had grown dull since his trickery. Loki continued on, as if none of this offended him. "As you so resent, I was raised a prince. You are a lady. Had I wished to cause you harm, I might've done it by now." He did not look at her, would not look at her. She was careful, fingers hardly dipping into the water, and when she did it was to rinse. Loki spoke once more after a lengthy silence, dropping his shoulders and giving in a bit to the warmth and comfort.
One dripping hand brushed raven hair from where the steam and humidity of the room had plastered it against his forehead and Loki nodded towards some bottles. He would humor her, if only so she may stop acting like he might violently assault her at any moment. His eyes were shut, allowing her to move around him as she required. His wound did not ache, he was not sweating or in a state of panic. Why should he waste energy snarling at her when she never took the bait? He was good at baiting people.
Loki was cunning and cruel and sincerity and genuine kindness made him uncomfortable. But she seemed unwilling to play his game and she had ever since they met years ago. So matter the poison he spat at her, she did not seem inclined to react outwardly. And Gods, he was tired of being angry, tired of trying to make her fight back. She had more patience than he did. Loki remembered his prison cell, how Thor had known his grief despite his illusions. He wasn't sure he had ever really left that prison. What he had accomplished with Thor, how they had worked together as they had so long ago...he had felt alive. Thor had trusted him and he had desired to make Thor see such trust was not misplaced.
They had been brothers, bickering and laughing and fighting together. For a while, the war he held held inside his now fragile skeleton, had come to a pause. But he was Loki, and to be Loki was to be a coward, a trickster, a liar. It was worse to be reminded of what he had lost by reliving it for any length of time than it was to lose it all and pretend he bad never known it. Loki splashed water on his face, pushing his hair back, soaking it. When he let his arms return to the water, he froze. Impossibly still, his gaze was fixed on a streak of vile colbat blue curling from the tips of his fingers as if he had dipped his slender fingers in paint. Oh. Oh no. Why was this happening? He tried to force it back, head thudding with his own pulse. He couldn't move.
Water sloshed, Sigyn moved. Sigyn. Sigyn would see him now, this monster beneath his skin. She would also see the most rare of expressions on the prince's face. Fear. Reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights. He blinked, before finding his voice which at first attempt, broke. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and laughed softly beneath his breath, a sad sound."You spoke of Asgard as if you were the only creature taken from their home, a prize of war."