fryordie
The sight of this mocking display renders him speechless for a time, but it doesn’t last for long. Blinking, the real Thor starts to move towards his double, stretching an arm forward so as to touch the illusion, but aborts the effort. “Loki, what is the meaning of this?” Had bitter feelings remained about the order of succession? Such seemed to be the case, in his view, anyway. “Please stop this, you know that I’ve changed since then.”
“Alas, I lack the wit and cleverness to understand what you’ve said. I am the mighty Thor-- Prince of Asgard. My ego far exceeds the size of my form.” He puffed his chest out, letting out a boastful laugh. Though seeing his brother’s face contort in such a way didn’t bring him nearly as much satisfaction as he’d hoped.
With a wave of light he changed back, pouting.
“Certainly-- you’ve changed.” The remark was entirely sarcastic. “Yet you continue to follow me around like some dog. Do you believe I fear death? I’m living on borrowed time as it is, brother.”
Indeed-- he had come from another timeline, if the Loki of this reality had died years ago, it stood to reason that Death would come for him, in time.
His home was gone, his people mere fishmongers-- and his mother--
There was nothing for him. Not here. Not anywhere.
