[Loki didn't dislike the woman, but he wasn't sure what to make of her. Other than his fears at first that she was a dark elf somehow. But on to the more pertinent topic.]
I was the only one in my cell, compared to others. What you need to know is that Asgardian dungeons are very very old. Almost as old as the vaults that came to be Odin's.
[Which was saying something, if Loki was calling them old.]
Things have been upgraded, obviously, but the cells themselves are rooms set into stone, but bordered in white on the inside. There are no bars, as we are kept within via a force field that is transparent but for the shimmer of light where it connects to the stone around us. They are sterile white within, with a view to the hallways outside. I was lucky, as I had a corner cell--and also a mother who insisted on making me 'comfortable'.
[Loki's expression was somewhat neutral, expressionless as he spoke. Not entirely closed off, as he was sharing and he trusted Kaiba. But it was not easy to deal with all the same.]
She would visit, via an illusion cast that is similar to what you might know as Astral Projection. She is also the reason I lived, and was in prison instead of executed. But that's not my point. Despite all the books she sent me, or as comfortable as she could make it...I still indulged in creating illusions. Of myself usually, taking the throne rightfully, cheered by the masses. Being lauded as proper king and heir, and worthy of Mjolnir as well.
She visited once, interrupting one of these illusions of mine. Inserting herself into it with ease, to ask what I was doing. She asked if it made me feel better. I told her it did not make me feel worse.
[A pause, and Loki flagged down a server to place a quick order. Two drinks, one non-alcoholic, and food. It was a needed break.]
She reminded me, that if you cast enough illusions, you risk forgetting what is real. At the time, that was precisely what I wanted, given my reality. Potentially 4000 or so years in solitary, essentially, never visited nor thought of except by her.
no subject
[Loki didn't dislike the woman, but he wasn't sure what to make of her. Other than his fears at first that she was a dark elf somehow. But on to the more pertinent topic.]
I was the only one in my cell, compared to others. What you need to know is that Asgardian dungeons are very very old. Almost as old as the vaults that came to be Odin's.
[Which was saying something, if Loki was calling them old.]
Things have been upgraded, obviously, but the cells themselves are rooms set into stone, but bordered in white on the inside. There are no bars, as we are kept within via a force field that is transparent but for the shimmer of light where it connects to the stone around us. They are sterile white within, with a view to the hallways outside. I was lucky, as I had a corner cell--and also a mother who insisted on making me 'comfortable'.
[Loki's expression was somewhat neutral, expressionless as he spoke. Not entirely closed off, as he was sharing and he trusted Kaiba. But it was not easy to deal with all the same.]
She would visit, via an illusion cast that is similar to what you might know as Astral Projection. She is also the reason I lived, and was in prison instead of executed. But that's not my point. Despite all the books she sent me, or as comfortable as she could make it...I still indulged in creating illusions. Of myself usually, taking the throne rightfully, cheered by the masses. Being lauded as proper king and heir, and worthy of Mjolnir as well.
She visited once, interrupting one of these illusions of mine. Inserting herself into it with ease, to ask what I was doing. She asked if it made me feel better. I told her it did not make me feel worse.
[A pause, and Loki flagged down a server to place a quick order. Two drinks, one non-alcoholic, and food. It was a needed break.]
She reminded me, that if you cast enough illusions, you risk forgetting what is real. At the time, that was precisely what I wanted, given my reality. Potentially 4000 or so years in solitary, essentially, never visited nor thought of except by her.