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It was early morning, early enough that Amora typically didn't awaken, but Louis likely was getting ready for a thing called 'work'. Yet a pounding headache knocked against her skull, piercing the haze of sleep and tearing her from the land of dreams with a violent, sharp, pain. She sat up with a groan, cursing and holding her head as she blinked back sudden tears that welled up.
With a curse, she rose on shaky legs, using the large bed frame to hoist herself up and drag herself out of bed and toward the bathroom. She banged along as she did so, knocking over whatever was in her path as she made her way over. The door to the bathroom swung open and she cracked the drywall with the force she put behind it.
She pulled the medicine cabinet open, digging around for what the mortals called painkillers that might actually stop the pounding in her skull that woke her. Yet as she swallowed a number of them and swung the mirror shut, the image of the All-Father appeared there, and a shriek escaped her in surprise.
*
For Louis' part, he did at times spend the evening in this apartment that he owned. It was a rarity to be fair, oftentimes he was elsewhere for whatever reason, but this morning he's standing in the living room with his coat slung over the back of his chair. He's adjusting his cufflinks with one hand as he suddenly feels a shift in power. It's an abrupt thing and it sends Amora that message. But Loki does not respond strongly. He does not wish to be found, so he holds up a hand, faint flickers of energy around his fingertips as he feels the pressure of that insistent messaging… observes the fluctuations of power from Amora's spells… and then allows his own to fall and falter in time with her own.
It's a small gamble, but it allows him to maintain his anonymity for now Odin most likely wouldn't notice. At least he hopes so. No spells are used to eavesdrop, however. Something that vulgar might be noticed. So instead he steps to the side and tilts his head towards the hallway, listening in a rather mundane way to what is said to Amora.
*
Amora gripped the cool marble of the sink's countertop with both hands as she stares, panting and lowering what mental shields held that blocked the magical message being sent her way. A shudder crossing her frame as she swallowed down a dry gasp of air, the pain receding as her spells allow the King of Asgard his way.
"Amora," The ancient voice came through the mirror crisp and clear, likely enough for even Loki to hear it from his position.
She bowed her head, her gaze lowered, "Your majesty." She whispered, her voice dry and crackly from being driven from her slumber.
"There is a chance for your redemption yet child." The singular eyed gaze landed on her firmly, and Amora's gaze shot upwards to meet it in shock being lowering once more.
"Complete this task set before you, prove your worthiness to the realm of Asgard and the crown which rules it and your exile shall be lifted."
Amora swallowed the dry lump that formed in her throat as a pause seemed to hold over the room, the layers of magic oozing around her enough to make her head light. "What must I do, your majesty?" She whispered into the void of silence.
*
In the other room, Louis grimaces slightly and folds his arms over his chest. He almost spitefully leans there against the wall as he turns his head to the side, casting a gaze towards where Amora would be if the walls weren't in the way. His brow furrows and a small 'hrmf' comes from him as he shakes his head. But for now he stands there, letting matters progress as they may.
*
The magical image of Odin seems to shift, strengthen in intensity as he focuses upon Amora through the mirror. "Thor Odinson has returned to Midgard in a manner that leaves the realm bereft of its heir, who will not commit to his duty and flaunts the responsibilities of the crown." Odin the All Father paused watching Amora with a steady gaze before he continued.
"He believes the mortals of Midgard to be equal, and his love for them and their women remains. Asgard can not have a mortal Queen. He has broken ties with the mortal woman Jane Foster. Amora, Enchantress, witch of Asgard. Your duty is thus: convince my son to return to Asgard and assume his duty as rightful heir. Turn his eye away from these mortal women. Do this, and your exile will be lifted."
Amora did lift her head from its respectful tilt her eyes wide as she stared in shock at the request from her King. Her lips parted as a shudder ran over her frame and she swallowed a lump in her throat before she quickly bowed her head again. "A-as you desire, my king." She choked out.
The mirror flickered at her words, the image fading.
"Do not fail…" The voice echoed in the bathroom, departing with the image and the magic of the king.
Amora slumped to the floor, shaking as she slid down against the wall opposite of the sink and pulled in deep breaths.
*
The tall man in the living room frowns as he stands there with his shoulder against the wall, his back towards the bathroom. He quietly seethes for a time, perhaps forgetting to reassert his defenses for a moment as he casts his gaze around the room. He holds a hand at his side and the fingers twist and clench, as if he were seeking something to grab and to hold onto, to squeeze the life from even.
Pushing off of the wall, he clenches and purses his lips as he looks around. A few steps carry him towards the balcony and almost angrily he slashes a hand to the side, causing the mystical wards cast around the place to flicker back into life even as the balcony door slides open… too hard and shatters the glass.
Yet it does not deter him. He strides out onto the balcony, the wind whipping around them as if heralding the arrival of the Thunder God, or perhaps an effect from his presence on Midgard already. Leaning forwards, Loki locks his hands around the brass railing and he casts his gaze down upon the great sweep of the city of Manhattan. He scowls to himself, fingers drumming a short staccato rhythm upon the metal. Yet he keeps control for the most part. He holds himself in check. Everything will be handled. And then his voice shakes the building…
"FUCK!"
*
With a shaky body Amora drags herself upwards at the sound of shattering glass and Loki's booming voice from the balcony. She winced, her head still pounding mutedly with the swirling magic that still pervaded the room. Amora used the sink, the door and the wall to prop herself up as she slowly made her way out of the bathroom and out into the living room where she could see the damage done to the sliding door. A grimace pulled at her lips as she carefully picked her way forward.
With a wave of her hand, and another wince, the glass was magically swept aside, even as it made her head pound sharply more. She leaned against the doorframe, her figure clad in a green silk nightgown that fluttered in the breeze that drifted over the city. No approaches further were made as she crossed her arms, watching Loki for a long moment, unwilling to break the silence as she folded her shaky arms over her middle.
*
Knowing she was there, Loki frowned to himself yet he did not turn to face her. Instead he stood there looking out over the city, fingers still drilling out that short steady rhythm upon the railing. Then, he turns his head to the side and says sharply. "Tell him whatever you will. I shall make do."
He draws himself fully upright, pushing a hand through his hair as he seem to visibly gather himself. With a simple few words, "I have plans to make," He gives her what little insight that he will… and then with a short sharp flash of light… he disappears.