In the Silence of the Darkness We Unite
Loki wound his way through the narrow maze of tunnels that comprised the markets of Svartalfheim, drawing little enough attention in his borrowed form. It had been a month since the confrontation in Latveria, and his physical injuries had long since healed, ragged gashes drawn into pale scars concealed by his habitual glamours. The same could not be said for his emotional wounds, deep lesions which seeped putrid pus and bitter blood at every ill-conceived move.
And, despite all his careful planning, most of Loki’s moves were ill-conceived. Scarcely a moment passed where he did not exacerbate his hurts, tearing open newly-formed scabs under the pretense of plotting his revenge.
It had been a month, and he had made no true effort toward that end. Instead, he concealed himself at this cultural crossroads, lying low in a low-lying realm far past the point when he should have again taken up the tools of his trade to make dark deals towards shadowed schemes. Sooner or later he would have to accept that the truth was simply that he enjoyed the pain.
Rounding a sharp corner wedged between the stalls of a silversmith and a silktrader, he narrowly avoided colliding with a disgruntled dwarf as he noticed the familiar gleam of a blonde head from across the cavern. Not the shimmering, icy pallor of the Svartalfar, but a deep, burnished gold he knew would be soft to the touch.
Heart hammering to life where it had been dead in his chest, Loki turned on his heel, doubling back the way he had come. He slipped unseen from the crowd into a cramped corridor, hurrying past idle travelers, taking turns at seemingly random intervals, striking deeper into the very heart of the realm. When at last he reached an empty chamber, alone save for the echo of an underground stream and the bioluminescent light of Svartalfheim’s oversized glow worms, he sagged against a wall and coughed out slight, hysterical laughter.
Why had he run so? Even if Thor had looked directly at him, he would not have known it was Loki. He appeared as any other dark elf in this infernal city, if garbed a bit more strangely. But Thor had never turned enough of an eye to Asgardian fashion, much less what passed for normal elsewhere, to notice such a disparity.