continued | @bluuxhalcyon
It was inevitable. This Loki knows. That for all of his powers of obfuscation, all of his talent for concealment and misdirection, that Odin would sit upon the Hliðskjálf and seek his blood brother. And that when he did so, there would always be the chance that Odin would also see the children Loki keeps under his protection.
That he would take a particular interest in this one is not necessarily surprising. From all of the disenfranchised misfit urchins who had somehow found their way to the God of Fathers, this goddess in her infancy stands apart. As starkly as Odin now stands against the profusion of fire that falls around him in a cacophony that would be deafening, were it not for Loki’s dislike of Thunder and his natural tendency to cushion his dwelling against the sound. Whether that dwelling is his, or merely where he happens to be at that moment.
He hates thunderstorms. Now Bluu knows why. But far from being afraid, now, Loki is resolute as he turns his back on his brother and crouches down to look his daughter in the eye. This man she faces now looks different : hair that had once been red as fire now is more ash than flame, and the lines in his face are deeper, his countenance more obviously aged. But those are his eyes, and no mistake, that flare like embers in a gust of wind --- golden, where the lightning strikes white-hot. This is a different aspect than the one Bluu is familiar with : this is Loki, God of Chaos. Not of hearthfire, but of wildfire. Of the destructive forces that shape creation. But it is still Loki. Still her father. And he lifts Bluu onto his hip, kisses her forehead, and snaps his fingers.
The lights in the room flick on --- he had let them remain off so that she could watch the storm, but there will be no more of that now --- and the house goes eerily silent. The only sound is the patter of rain on the roof and windows, but even that seems dampened, as though it were far away.
“ You’d best come in, Helblindi, ” he tells the figure outside sternly, as though no window glass or howling storm stood between them. And the voice that Bluu hears is Loki’s, though it falls from a much angrier, older-seeming tongue. “ Since you like frightening children so much, let her at least fear your grotesque face, and not just the shadow you cast. ”
There is a pause. A pregnant, heavy pause as Loki holds his breath.
And then the figure outside begins to move to the door. Loki gives his wrist a flick, and it slams open. And now it is his turn to stand silhouetted, unwelcoming upon the threshold in spite of his invitation, with his child in his arms and his jaw set in an unspoken vow : over my dead body.
