The world in it’s entirety seemed cold, malicious in it’s ways; calculating, and this indeed was something that made even Thor, the mighty god of thunder, unnerved at the thought.
Standing in the vacant park with nothing but the scratching and screeching of rats, scurrying about the discarded wrappers and bags of travelers and site-seers, and the nipping wind that howled louder than the obnoxious honking of street-cars as company, the Odinson sat, hands intertwined and mind full of thoughts. The prince had indeed been worried about his brother, and what life in the mortal realm had brought for him— praying that it be more than simple discomfort. He of all should know the bitter sting of banishment— the complete solitude and gap left aching and pulsing in the center of your heart when all that you had grown to love is no more. Thor had felt that pain— he had felt those fears, and as a result sympathized with Loki, a man of which countless times rebuked not only he, but his father- his mother. This was one thing of which the would-be-king found more aggravating than anything else, for if it was not out of love that the Thor would slip into the darkened room of his troubled sibling, holding him till he was content once more with his dreams, then what power did so? What power compelled countless hours of star-gazing? What power moved the words of brotherly love that both had exchanged in earnest trust?
Wearily, the Odinson stood as he felt another presence breaking through his shield of solitude. Though he saw no one, he knew all the same that the presence remained, and he knew all too well who it was.
“I knew you would come, brother.” The Asgardian started, raising a rough hand to smooth over his sweat dampened brow. “Might I ask you when it is I will see my kin? I have seen photos— heard fleeting giggled through the mystical boxes of which contain their likeness— but I have not yet felt the small hands within my own… I have not held them in my arms and whispered my words of protection to them.”
“Despite your wishes, and your rather obnoxious hatred for me, I should wish to see your children.”
The thunderer's request had come three days prior and it had taken exactly that long for Loki to deliberate and decide whether he would or would not show up in that park. That park, he mused spitefully to himself as he paced his and his husband's bedroom an hour before he was meant to meet Thor. Tony had urged him to go, to hear him out, and to mind the mean swing, but Loki was unsure; hesitant not because of what was waiting but what the rendezvous would become.
With a half snarl, a deep and guttural sound of disdain, he pressed a kiss to the corner of his lover's mouth before teleporting away. He appeared in the green space without a tell - not a single breath of wind nor a shimmer of light - and he remained in the darkness, as he believed he was, always, when in the other's presence, until he was spoken to.
He stepped into the light, the sickly orange glow catching his dim eyes and causing the ferocity in them to glint. "Hate requires effort, Odinson," He scoffs without drawing nearer. "And your wishes are nil to me. I forbid you to see them," He glares. "You will not approach my and Tony's children."
