1964-06-04 - Loki to the rescue
Summary: Loki teleports to Svartlalfheim to search for Kai and challenge Malekith.
Related: Loki Bound
Theme Song: None

Loki arrived in Svartalfheim with a golden sparkle and a blink. The illusion he had been wearing when he turned over Kevin, the dog, to Jay, also faded, leaving him with an unfortunate set of white cat ears and a spotted tail, both relics from Amora…thanks Amora. The story was just too long to try to tell the mutant kid. But, he had another illusion to perpetuate, and he cast it over himself in a hurry. A lone dark elf would be odd enough, let alone a lone Asgardian. In the dim and dusty light of that world did he begin his search for the mansion in the vision, the home, the heart of Malekith. Asshole.


His long white braid danced behind him as he alternated between walking and running, along mostly empty roads, in the armor of a dark elf, by appearance, his face hidden behind a white mask, his green eyes concealed behind the orbs of protection. He stopped, to rest, to conserve, trying to make certain that when he arrived at this meeting, he would be as prepared as he could be. But, in his heart, he knew that was impossible. He was NOT the Loki that had conquered Asgard. Different. Younger. Less powerful and bereft of all his fun toys, except for the things he had borrowed from Amora’s stores. Not that those weren’t great, just not exactly his full arsenal. He needed a plan. He needed 8 plans.


His mind reeled with developing those plans to rescue Kai, to somehow escape Malekith with all their lives in tact, and pretty sure there was no way for him to do that unless he came bargaining with something. That truly was the sticking point, plucking his way through this land that hated everything about him, and yet…he had been here more than most Asgardians had in a thousand years. This was a forbidden place…leave the dark elves alone, and maybe the ones that were left would stay in their holes.


Loki heard the snap of a twig and darted to the right, under the cover of some brambles. The sound grew, the sound of wolf feet, the steeds of the dark elves, pounding down the path. Ohhh, they would smell him, yes, beyond what sight could tell. Time to run. Run through the woods, branches lashing at him, black mud clinging to his boots, making each step more laborious than the other. Far behind him, with the odd advantage of those cat ears, he could hear the voices, the group of dark elves stopped, speaking with each other, debating the value of the interloping quarry.

He listened for a moment, then ran onwards, using magic to silence his steps. ‘Good’, he thought, ‘I work better under high stakes.’

After what seemed like hours, he emerged to the road again, this time, nearer to the source. He walked bolder, then, /ready/ to be captured and brought to where he needed to be, but just curious how far he can get before he’s noticed and arrested.

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