[ And what is mine? He thinks, in the same tone as a child who has been told that not everything is. Her love, apparently, and it is either trusting that, believing her words and her eyes and the weight of her in his arms, or perish.
What does he have to give her in return? A fallen god, from another world far away, and yet not even the first to his name here. His heart feels like such a small thing, a fruit that was left in the sun for too long, sweetnesses all gone bitter. She deserves something whole and hale and open for her, but it's all he has to offer.
His thumb comes up to rub across the plane of her cheekbone, a perfect echo of her gesture.
Loki opens his mouth to say something and then has to shut it again when the noise he makes isn't words but a small sob.
Shutting his eyes does nothing to stop the tears, but they're going to happen anyway. ]
Alright.
[ Does he even know what, exactly, he's agreeing to?
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What does he have to give her in return? A fallen god, from another world far away, and yet not even the first to his name here. His heart feels like such a small thing, a fruit that was left in the sun for too long, sweetnesses all gone bitter. She deserves something whole and hale and open for her, but it's all he has to offer.
His thumb comes up to rub across the plane of her cheekbone, a perfect echo of her gesture.
Loki opens his mouth to say something and then has to shut it again when the noise he makes isn't words but a small sob.
Shutting his eyes does nothing to stop the tears, but they're going to happen anyway. ]
Alright.
[ Does he even know what, exactly, he's agreeing to?
It doesn't matter. ]