&& whcle.
he’s leaving Asgard. not permanently, of course ( the thought has crossed his mind, recently, given Thor’s predilection towards the warriors three as of late, and his lips press together even as his eyes narrow and he concentrates on moving quietly and keeping to the shadows ), but they’ve been staunchly forbidden from using the bifrost for the foreseeable future, and he has every intention of exploring the hidden paths laid out in the worn tome tucked beneath his arm because he’ll not be kept from the entire universe. not when there is so much that could draw glory to himself! - Loki creeps across the endless golden expanse of Valhalla, slipping past weary guards with ease. satisfaction paints a wry grin onto his face and he holds the book closer to himself, fingers petting the cover of it with a quiet glee.
his destination is found easily enough thereafter, it being a quiet garden outside the palace proper - a thought only half-formed curls in the back of his mind ( perhaps this is a poor idea, even if the place he’s attempting to go will be empty, archaic and wholly uninhabited save for the ghosts of half-forgotten legends. ).
&& with his legs folding underneath himself, he sits cross-legged, book splayed open on his lap. and the spell after that is also terribly easy to find, to allow into himself and back out into the night air, to watch as it twines around him lovingly. he has a moment to ponder the exact reason it’s all so easy, before the golds and greens around him fracture, bleaching and becoming void - white, he realizes a moment later, it’s snow and ice, and there’s a half-second of pure fascination as he realizes that he’s not at all cold - ( that he’s done it, he’s slipped through the cracks of the universe, gone from one realm to another, and Thor cannot do that, nor can any of the others, but now he wants to keep this wondrous thing to himself, for now, at least - ). then he’s turning, short black hair teasing against his neck as he shifts, climbing to his feet. ( book held again to his chest, now, pressed to the deep cut of his collar and against the flesh of his collarbone ).
a building. abandoned, he expects, given the utterly decrepit nature of it. ( what else would it be? what hopeless vagrants would choose a frozen wasteland to hide in? his eyelashes brush his cheeks, snow flecks dusting across his skin as he blinks ) Loki’s gaze is critical and assessing as moves forward, shoes sinking deep into the snow. he’s come here to prove he can, but he’ll not leave anything to chance. he’ll need confirmation of his far-flung travels.
he makes no attempts to be silent now - the wind howls, sweeping grandly about, concealing whatever noises he does make - creeping through the ruins and the rubble. it is, of course, some ancient law that was never written down, he thinks, rounding one jutting bit of stone, that now is when he finds himself not alone. his fingers flex in an unintended reaction, fingertips pressing against his precious cargo ( the only way he’ll find his way back to Asgard, sans being discovered by Heimdall ). a harsh sound of surprise escapes him, lost quickly to the whirling snow. an abrupt flutter of his eyes as he thinks, and Loki offers a bland grin, straightening, posture unrelenting -
❝ it seems I’ve intruded into your home. my apologies. ❞
his words are smooth and mocking, betraying nothing of the uncertainty that lingers in the corners of his now fading smile.
( this is no witless native, that much is clear from the mans appearance, and while he has weapons, Loki has very little desire to engage in a battle as unarmored as he is. with no one to aid him should he need it. ).
❝ shall I leave, or shall you? ❞
