Deep breath in. Hold. Deep breath out.
Deep breath in. Hold. Deep breath out.
What was probably the most frustrating thing about all of the breathing and focus exercises Kanaya had drilled into her brain was that the voice in her head that reminded her of what to do was that of her mother. Or the stupid lady on the fitness testing tapes from middle school.
Yes. Tapes. The first edition cassettes that are barely still usable but won’t be replaced because public schools are in a constant state of budget cuts.
Which is stupid, because so many parents she had met - or overheard, in the way the psychic was prone to - always complained about how much money they had to spend per year on whatever programs they force their poor children to participate in whether or not they honestly have enough hours in the day to get more than two hours of sleep per night.
At least that’s what the insanely stereotypical power-walking mom club was contemplating as they shuffled passed her bench.
Sure, it wasn’t a topic she cared to have much of an opinion on, other than that moms were stupid and cruel and far too eager to force their kids to live for them, but it was enough to act as a momentary distraction long enough for the world to stop spinning.
A hand made its way absentmindedly toward her chest, tracing the vertical line of her scar up and down through the fabric of her shirt. It was as normal an action for her as another twiddling their thumbs or twisting the ends of their hair. Sure, it was bound to pull her mind back to the same vision she’d been contemplating for a week, but at least now she was somewhat relaxed. Plus, he was far enough away that she couldn’t feel…
There it was. At least, there it seemed. No, no it wasn’t. It was probably just the wind, rustling up a few trees just for the hell of it.
Besides, even if it was, she had no way of answering or knowing if there was anything to answer or if she even wanted to answer.
What she did know is that the morning jaunt left her pretty damn near exhausted. The best thing she could do for herself was just push it away.
Slowly hauling herself up on to her feet, Kanaya made her way over to a mid-sized patch of grass not far from the bench she just left, lowered herself to the ground, and laid back against the soft turf. It wasn’t an unusual area to see people lounging about, reading a book, having a picnic, etcetera, so she was fine with letting her eyes droop closed.
Right now, she just needed to push away anything on her mind’s radar. No thoughts, no feelings, nothing. Just take her personal bubble and push everything away.
♔—- Sipping the coffee, Loki started off down the street in the same direction he saw her disappear. Whether or not he was searching for her was difficult to decern, but the barista in the coffee shop certainly seemed to think so. As he handed a woman back her change, he stared out the window after Loki with a small smirk on his lips.
“Knew you weren’t gonna let it go,” he murmured to himself as he turned his back to the woman and the windows that lined the front of the shop. Apparently, Loki’s barista seemed to think he knew the man quite well.
Oh, the heart attack he was bound to have if he ever learned the truth about Loki…
In reality, even the fallen God had no idea if he was actually looking for Kanaya or not. The few stores he usually frequented, which included several bookstores, a grocery store, and a clothing store, were all in the same direction. He could just as easily run his morning errands rather than worry about what Kanaya was doing or why she bothered to show up at the place he typically got his coffee, only to turn and run before he could arrive?
‘I don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself. If being around me is too hard, why come looking for me?’ She hadn’t responded to him, but he had no way of knowing if she could actually hear him. And if she could… would she be able to respond to him?
A few blocks of silence and he could tell that he was holding his breath, hoping that he would get some sort of response from her. The longer the silence stretched out, the more frustrated he became.
‘You know,’ he silently continued. ‘If you can hear me, I just want you to know that I’m not interested in a game of cat and mouse. Talk to me or don’t, but don’t show up in places you know I’ll be, just to turn and tuck tail.’
Eventually, he came to one of the bookstores he loved so much, a locally owned occult shop that had quite a bit of fascinating reading. One of these days, he really hoped they might get a book in that would actually help him with his magical restriction dilemma. Some of the texts they got in happened to be authentic and he always bought them up straight away. Hel, the owner of the store often reached out to him when they got something in that they thought he might be interested in, something that he was eternally grateful for.
The bookstore happened to be directly across the street from the park.
He spent about twenty minutes in the store, purchased a few different texts, a couple of candles, and even a small, ornate carving of a wolf, clearly modeled after his son, Fenrir. Purchases in a reusable tote, he pulled the bag over his shoulder and headed out, crossed the street, and then entered the park. It wasn’t at all uncommon for him to sit and read for a few hours, especially if he happened upon a few good finds during his outing.
Before he ever got to a bench, he found the woman he’d been trying to telepathically talk to lying in the grass with her eyes closed. From a distance, she looked like she was asleep.
“You know,” he called once he was close enough to her that he could hear him without having to shout. “If you’re trying to avoid me, you’re doing a very bad job of it.”
