Work Text:
Metal
Hot
Sharp
Pain
Red
Drip
PainpainPAIN-
Loki shot up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. They were clutching at their heart, their pupils fluctuating as every muscle in their body seemed to convulse. They brought a trembling hand up to their face and traced their lips.
The thread that seemed so vivid in their memory was gone, leaving behind only the phantom feeling of blood trickling down their chin.
Loki wanted nothing but to collapse back onto their mattress and sob the nightmare away- but unfortunately for them, they knew sleep would not come this time.
So despite their body's protests, Loki flung their ankles over the side of the bed and attempted to slow their breathing. They were all but successful, and they began to pace the room.
Running their hands through their ivory hair, they managed to slow their heart.
It was pathetic, the way they let themself get out of hand in these situations. The memories were from so long ago- they shouldn’t even affect them.
Their hands were shaking again, and they felt tears gathering on their eyelashes. Loki sunk to the floor, sliding down the wall defeatedly.
Loki trembled, remembering the searing pain, now a phantom on their lips. The silver needle gleaming in the light as they were shackled to the ground was ingrained in their memory. There was no way they were going back to sleep.
Catching sight of themself in the mirror, Loki thought. Their time on Midgard had proved somewhat useful, as they had learned many things about Midgardian culture- as well as trivial things about mortal anatomy or their government systems. One of such things was the extent of scarring.
Now- this was far from a new concept for Loki, as their seidr had been shackled or drained at times that they had been injured. They shuddered at the distant thought. It’s needless to say that Loki was not a fan of Mortal healing speeds.
As far as Loki understood, mortals were severely lacking in the magic department. Not in terms of their developments- the line between science and magic only became blurrier as time went on. But in terms of anatomy- many Aesir traits were absent from the mortals.
If a mortal were to be subjected to the- punishment that was Loki’s silencing (say they were to survive, of course- and maintain their mind), there would have been permanent scarring on every hole the needle punctured. Granted, Loki recognized that some mortals wanted those scars. These scars were maintained- and decorated. ‘Piercings,’ they were called. What a wretched name.
Regardless of the strange Midgardian customs, Loki couldn’t imagine it. To wake up to the scars of that . A permanent reminder of their mistakes. It was now more than ever that they were grateful for the magic flowing through their veins. Even after all these years, Loki remembered the sheer relief of the punishment being lifted. As soon as that wretched thread was ripped out, they had sped the healing process tremendously. Perhaps they were trying to avoid just that. Scarring. Still, no matter how many external scars could or could not be healed, they knew that those that remained inside would continue to bleed.
A headache started to form behind their eyes, their temples throbbing. They whimpered, grimacing at the pathetic noise that escaped their lips. Their hands went to their hair, tugging at the roots to feel some semblance of relief.
There was no escape from the past, but it does not need to define your character.
And yet Loki does not stop it from doing so.