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 Storm the Sorrow, [ black widow ]
Loki
 Posted: May 8 2012, 05:06 AM
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[ In tandem with Mischief & Mayhem ]

When one's mind betrays everything it thought was hidden, a strange feeling emerges. Like one of floating, or perhaps a lucid realization you are not dreaming anymore. This was how Loki felt the moment the Avenger touched his mind, his hold on her still difficult to maintain even as he focused on fighting his enemies. But as his memories stretched throughout the scope of the Astral Plane, where all psychic energies met in projection of infinite span, he stood alone. So many could have found him there, often lost in subconscious thought, yet he was hidden just well enough to be on his own. It was frightening and empty, a darkness of void he was staring into now. The abyss loomed before him beneath the shattered remains of the Bifrost, a rainbow bridge tattered and left to stand as a wreckage within the god's mind. What was he to do then with himself? What was he to feel? He had lost everything, everyone, and he could never go back again. His brother be damned. Loki was no Asgardian, did not deserve to be one. He was a terrible blight upon the world, marred by the revelation of his Jotun heritage and just whom his true father was. Where was the righteousness in the world? Loki could feel the ache in his chest at the mental recollection of that day when Odin denied him what he had tried to accomplish. Why not stop a war before it even began? Why not use the destructive power of the Bifrost to put an end to a race who need not have survived? They were worthless, pathetic; did that make Loki the same as his bloodline?

He could hear the other person moving, the woman he had gained control of, but he was unaware of how to approach it. He was subconsciously controlled by his own emotion and he felt bitter because of it. Even with Odin's staff laying at his feet, his own helm an artifact of forgotten memoirs in the history of man; it all seemed to fade to what he was feeling. Loki knew the crushing weight would continue until he had his vengeance, until he made up for all the mistakes of lies he'd lived throughout his life. And this woman would understand; this woman felt as he did. Lost and betrayed, perhaps frightened of what the future might hold in a world where destiny was changed. "You shouldn't be here." His voice was soft, almost to the point of sadness but straining to hold on that fine line between calm and empty. He was lost, trapped in two worlds yet belonging to neither. Asgard or Midgard; neither he belonged on, but both he wanted to destroy. Loki wasn't sure he would ever be free of the madness slowly poisoning him. "I shouldn't be here." A mused thought to himself, silent like the regret and guilt in his heart. It was nothing but anger and resentment to his own kind.

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FOR THE HEART I ONCE HAD
ONCE MY HEART BEAT TO THE RHYTHM OF THE FALLING SNOW
BLACKENED BELOW, THE RIVER NOW FLOWS A STREAM OF MOLTEN VIRGIN SNOW.

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*Black Widow
 Posted: May 8 2012, 05:41 AM
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[In tandem with Mischief & Mayhem]
    This was a new experience for her, an out of body experience leaving her to question where exactly she was and whether this was a dream of her own device or if this figure was truly here. This sort of dream scenario would have been quite weird for this Avenger and seeing as it started the moment they fought the intruder it seemed more likely he was the cause of it. Mind control was something she had been made aware of and whilst she could avoid the common telepath-to a degree, sorcery was something she hadn’t been subjected to before in this way. With her body at war her mind stayed calm trusting in her allies not to harm her despite her own assault. If the duo failed to save her from this current prison she would end up freed later on, she was certain the loyalty of the few around her she called friends wouldn’t let this continue. Whatever actions her body caused to others wouldn’t find her blamed, she had no control of herself right now and she wasn’t going to suffer a guilt trip if she harmed or killed someone right then. That was one thing Tasha had learned, sometimes things happened outside her control so she couldn’t be blamed for it.

    If this figure was both here and down fighting there was little doubt in her mind this was some kind of mental connection and so fighting was useless unless he started anything first. The ticking in her thoughts told her to find out what she could whilst she had to time, see what was going on with him so that she could understand the intruder she had now identified as an Asgardian. The clothes had helped identify the stranger as 'different' before and now the helmet and staff only nailed the name to the face and with that being the case she knew she had to tread carefully here and keep her wits about her. If she was correct this Asgardian was causing trouble and that contradicted Thor being here, protecting earth. Looking around she cautiously closed the gap trying to understand this place and what she could do here, the way the place worked and what seemed like residue small clouds of emotion-emotion that she could feel but wasn’t her own. There was bitterness and sorrow, anger, betrayal, and trapped. Those were the initial surrounding emotions hitting her as she moved forward. “You brought me here” she replied softly. “You're from Asgard aren't you?” her brow arched as her eyes narrowed needing a little confirmation there as she tried to ignore what was happening around her and instead tried to focus on how to handle this situation. “We all do things we shouldn’t. Why are you here?”


This post has been edited by Black Widow: May 8 2012, 06:25 AM
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Loki
 Posted: May 8 2012, 06:59 AM
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Something didn't feel right, gatherings of emotion flashing with small sparks of green and red, lights inside of deep clouds beginning to form like a mist around both figures in the subconscious melding of minds. Loki knew he shouldn't have been there, should have been set in his ways and determined to make his destiny his own, but he was fluid about it, hesitant between two worlds he would never belong. This hesitation showed in his response to her, how he tensed up just slightly, fingers curling to clenching fists before he turned just a little, crystalline eyes focused upon the figure in black. If she was meant to be his reckoning, mentally subduing him, whoever sent her thought him weak. But Loki could not control what emotion he was feeling, not when the haze of power and greedy want cloaked his thoughts in misjudgment. Whatever he was going for, whatever was calling to him, it sounded like whispers on wind, brushing by his ears with delectably sweet nothings. Like a lover in a lost embrace, the infinite power of the Cube was there for not only him to hear but the woman as well. It was telling him what he could have, what he should deserve. Loki closed his eyes a moment later even as he finished turning to face her, hands still balled up by his sides, trembling now with the effort of remaining focused in the psychic intrusion his own magicks had created for the both of them. They were connected through thought, through their feelings and past experiences, and she was getting a glimpse into the mind of a corrupted soul. "Asgardian? No, not that. Never was that."

His focus returned, azure observance once again upon her, body forced forward a step and then two, coming closer to her as he relaxed his muscles, tried to make himself seem less threatening than he knew he probably was outside of the little realm he'd built in his mind. Where was the child he had been? The carefree boy growing up alongside his brother. Or was it under his shadow? "What are we supposed to do then? What are we but pathetic, scrabbling creatures? Searching for a semblance of normality and control? No, we are something worse. We are empty." He felt his heart pounding now, deafening in a rush of adrenaline to hearing. What was he supposed to tell her then? Was he going to mention how he felt? What drove him to do the things he did? He had no control here, no resistance when every wall of power had been torn down by the whispering on the invisible winds. Wind that didn't move hair or cloak, didn't leave cape billowing. And even as Loki moved the cloak was gone, replaced with nothing as the staff and helm vanished at the same time, the bridge breaking off with a rumbling crack that would have thrown any physical being off-balance in the world beyond the astral. His anger was influencing the changing landscape around him, a magickal beckoning of untold rage and unkempt rejection. "I am here because my insolent brother doesn't know how to stop. He doesn't know when he's become too much for anyone to handle. I am here because this is exile. This is torment." The anger seeped onto his countenance, drawing in the clenching of muscles once more as he revealed to her everything he shouldn't have.

There was no control in the Astral Plane, not within his own mind.

"I was lost, forgotten by those who claimed to love me before I realized my true calling. Can't you hear it? Can you hear what she says?" Whispered words again, ghosting through the aether around both of them, dancing like faerie lights flickering on the moors of old. Like the beasts who once roamed the land when Jotun and Asgardian alike walked amongst man, fought in wars and destroyed everything in their path. Like Loki would have done to Jotunheim if only Thor had let him. "She tells me what I can have. I am a king. I am everything your meager world needs but my brother, my father, would deny me that right!" Anger broke off more of the bridge, limiting their space to several dozen feet now. And the void still echoed around them, white noise canceling the waves of power rushing through Loki's mind. Anger beseeching the sadness appearing in his eyes, at the drop of the first tear on a contorted, pained visage.

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FOR THE HEART I ONCE HAD
ONCE MY HEART BEAT TO THE RHYTHM OF THE FALLING SNOW
BLACKENED BELOW, THE RIVER NOW FLOWS A STREAM OF MOLTEN VIRGIN SNOW.

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*Black Widow
 Posted: May 8 2012, 08:15 AM
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    This place seemed so surreal to her, and she was not qualified to identify what was going on around her, she wasn’t even going to try to put the science together. What she did know was this wasn’t exactly real, if he was here and yet still fighting then this wasn’t his complete personality she was having this experience with. This was her entire mind, there was no connection to her physical form yet she knew this figure was fighting and fleeing the scene beneath them. He couldn’t be in both places at once without having to sacrifice some parts of his mind, which gave her an advantage right now. Whilst part of him was at war with the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D agents this other part of him was here, a part of him that wasn’t the one fighting. If he was fighting there he wasn’t going to be fighting here, channeling his skills in combat there broke some pressure for her here. If people thought Tasha was just a robot fighting machine they’d be shocked to see her mind working like this, diving through her surroundings and figuring them out as she was doing. These little mist clouds seemed to give off emotions when she came in contact with them and she could see vague hazy images in some of the others. This was strange, very strange indeed but she focused on the images she could see stepping closer to the subject.

    An echoing thunder hit her, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time, back before she met Barton, back when she was being tormented and manipulated by forces to work as an assassin. It felt like desire, a hunger for something, it was an intoxicating pull towards a direction in this hazy empty place. Looking to her right, looking towards the object of the desire it was a scattered image in the mist, that Cosmic Cube, the feeling gained in strength when she looked at it forcing her to snap back to face him. Tasha wanted to know who he was, she assumed from the look that was a little different here to back in the base he had to be from Asgard, however he denied it in such a way that left her feeling he knew about Asgard but didn’t want to be associated with them. Another little mist passed her from behind, but that was different from the others, it was familiar, she recognized the feeling from years ago accompanied with a memory she had buried deep down. It was a younger Natasha kidnapped and trapped in Madripoor stuck in an empty room restrained by her wrists from the ceiling.

    The feelings washed back over her, she had been scared, she had felt alone and abandoned, trapped, betrayed by her adopted father. Over and over someone had come in trying to make her think her Ivan gave her to them, that he’d saved her from that fire to use her for this very purpose to train her up to work for them. The images flashed by in the mist, of her younger self electrocuted anytime she spoke back, her sides red from the electricity burns. The feelings increasing from her from that nightmare, lots of pain and suffering, abandonment, she had almost given in until…she felt hopeless, one more emotion beating out of her into this atmosphere. She licked her lips ignoring it as she tried focusing on listening to him instead; trying to ascertain what was going on in his head as she worked out what this place seemed to be doing. “We are only empty if we choose to be. You can choose a different path” she replied softly. “I’m proof of that. I wasn’t always like this….” She stepped closer narrowing her eyes starting to feel a little panicked when the bridge pieces started to fall off and things disappeared. Tasha could see the images around, a young blonde and raven haired boy together, the blonde praised by an older man, then a blonde figure surrounded by people at a celebration of some kinds, an announcement of the coronation of Thor.

    Tasha could feel the anger, it was mixed up though, it wasn’t hatred and rage, it was sadness filled but Tasha being Tasha she didn’t back off she stepped in front of him fearlessly instead looking up to the taller figure. “This is not exile, this is your sanctuary, you’re here because you refuse to let yourself leave.” She paused there wasn’t much space around now, either his hold was wavering over her or his emotions were corrupting this place. ”You don’t like who you are so don’t think anybody else would either. I’ve been there. I was wrong too. ” she spoke softly forcing out the memory of when Clinton Barton was sent to kill her, she hadn’t given him a reason to stop, he hadn’t asked her to come with him, that was the first decent act she experienced and wanted to see if she could push that out right now to help explain. The images flashed behind her, the fight, trying to kill the man attacking her, ending up losing the fight, feeling scared, feeling like she deserved it all, that he should get it over, she gave up her fight, she had accepted her fate then but he chose to let her live. The moment after that image flashed from Clint to her apartment after the fight sitting down lost, confused, alone and conflicted. “Being in charge is never about you, it’s about the people around you. Putting them first, being willing to give your life up for them. That is what makes a leader, what makes a King. ” she grabbed his sleeve. "Who would you give your life up to protect?"
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Loki
 Posted: May 9 2012, 11:01 PM
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All the hate and rage he must have been feeling was a lie, was clouded in a mask of pain and heartbreak. Loki only ever wanted to be adored and cherished as Thor was; to be considered an equal and not living in his shadow. It was dark there, like the void around them, consuming everything in its path, hurting Loki deeper than any blade ever could. Where was the fairness in that? Where was he supposed to be when nothing made him feel like he was worth the love of a father or a mother? Where was Thor when Loki had needed him most? He felt the flicker of sorrow inside of himself, trying to turn away from it but failing. The Bifrost they were standing on ceased to quake, stopped breaking apart as if the only thing halting the inevitable crumble was her words. She was trying to calm him, to persuade him there was nothing he wanted more than to be in the feeling of humanity he had inside. All Asgardians had it, everyone one of them. What made people believe he was any different? Deeper now the ache traveled until it sliced through his heart, bringing a sharp pain to his chest, forcing him to haunch his shoulders in simulated defeat. She was right, he knew this, yet he could not dissuade himself from whatever notion he had of betrayal and loss. Loki wanted a home to belong to instead of an empty existence he was currently living though he was never going to get it. Maybe this woman didn't understand what he was going through, how he felt. Maybe she didn't know about the things Thor had done to him. How he had rejected Loki because he was weaker, always laughed in his face when the Jotun prince had wanted to prove he was something more. Just because he couldn't fight like the rest of them didn't mean he wasn't pathetic and weaker. He felt the anger surge through him again, clenching his hands tighter into fists before the emotion changed again. Sorrow, deeper sorrow than anything he'd felt before; worthlessness, hopeless existence; he wasn't sure what it meant anymore.

But her words were there, so real and tangible he could practically feel them like a brush against skin. What was he supposed to do? He had asked her what he was supposed to feel. The answers were there, to all the questions he subconsciously asked himself every day but he was too naive to see. He was buried beneath the torrential vengeance, drowning every second in what was falsely concocted to make himself feel better about who he was, what he was doing. None of it was a good thing. He felt his heart breaking at what he had endured in the past. "Leave? What is there to leave? You don't understand what it's like to be different. They didn't love me. They didn't want me because of who my father really was. They didn't want me to be king of Asgard because of what I am." Tears sought their path down his cheeks, head turning, unable to look at her anymore. How was she expecting he'd react? The sorrow in his own mind outweighed that of his bitterness. Betrayed and left to die in a void of space between the realms. He wasn't meant for such a heavy weight placed on his shoulders. What did he have to prove? Loki felt the trembling start again, her words permeating through the thick cloud of self-reliant pain. And yet just as he was about to turn from her, to try and fade back into a world built to house all the inadequacies of his past, she laid a hand upon him.

Piercing blue eyes immediately focused on that hand, where it touched and how it tingled just a bit. Tangible, but not real; Loki did not realize this, not when his body was forcing itself into motion to fight off the Avengers who wanted to stop him from attaining his prize. The whispers came back, soothing and causing a fluttering of eyelids in the god, head lolling back just slightly to absorb the caress of promised power. He could feel it ghosting over his skin, sinking through his armor and pausing only when it slithered into his soul. Yes, the Cube was there, promising great things for him; greater things than being a king of Asgard. The woman's words again, softer this time while the roar of greedy power rushed through his hearting. Who would he protect with sacrifice? Loki hesitated, whispers dying to the dead zone his thoughts had become. Who was worthy of being saved? He certainly wasn't, he knew that. To ask the physical Loki whom he would die protecting he would always answer himself, for no one was better than the God of Mischief. But who would he really protect by giving his own life? He was still hesitant to answer, clouded eyes laying themselves upon the woman again. This Black Widow. "I..." Words caught in his throat, lips parted now to find the answer when he would never have it. "I don't know." Who was he supposed to save when all he deeply wanted was the family life he once had? Trembling now more than ever, trying to compose himself, he was vulnerable.

Vulnerable in ways Loki never thought he would have been again.

--------------------

FOR THE HEART I ONCE HAD
ONCE MY HEART BEAT TO THE RHYTHM OF THE FALLING SNOW
BLACKENED BELOW, THE RIVER NOW FLOWS A STREAM OF MOLTEN VIRGIN SNOW.

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*Black Widow
 Posted: May 10 2012, 06:05 AM
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    She wasn’t trained for this; she wasn’t trained to handle gods and their war and powers. Natasha wasn’t a soldier, she was a spy, she was someone who could kill if she had to, she was not prepared for this situation but had to make the best of it. As smart as she is beautiful it made her a deadly opponent, a tricky one who knew how to play people-especially men around her. This figure seemed broken and the closer she got, the more emotions hit her, the more images flashed by them from him had her see just how broken and conflicted he was. Coming up with a way to get herself out of this mess wasn’t easy, she didn’t know how she could escape this end, but he could. If she got through to him he could snap out of this chaos and let go of her, or her friends would find a way to bring her out of this…wherever this was. Tasha couldn’t figure out if this was a part of him in her mind or if she had been taken into his own. If she was not in her own mind or in his then it left some transitional plane between their minds where he’d locked her in along with a little part of himself. This part of him was not like the attacker using her as a pawn; it was as if he’d trapped his own self away to keep himself strong. Strength didn’t come from shutting off her emotions, not showing them to the world was fine but she didn’t have to shut them down fully to make her strong. People could be strong and still feel things inside, if that was what this was-him trapping his pain and emotions away to strength himself inside then she might be able to find a way to him. That was the plan, try to reach him and so she kept herself calm, sharp to what he was saying and his actions to be sure she didn’t say or do anything to lose him. Tasha couldn’t afford him to get angry or vanish from this spot otherwise she’d be here alone lost and waiting to gain control again.

    The vapor hit her shoulder, one filled with intense sorrow making her grit her teeth as the sharp ache hit her hard making her hiss a bit under her breath and grit her teeth. The floor stopped crumbling, relief swept over her, there wasn’t much left to stand on and she didn’t know what would happen if it did break away. Being lost forever, stuck here in some pit trapped was not going to go down well with her or those close to her. Watching him closely she saw his shoulders hunch up in a bit of a defensive position. Uncertain if that was her doing or something in his own mental form when she felt the sudden rush of anger. Her eyes widened, a little fear escaping her worried about the ground giving in again making her heart race faster. She spoke up, there was no choice, she had to do something and it seemed to help, the wave of sorrow and hopelessness washed over her echoed in that memory of her past and her own identical feelings. “Yes I do” her voice echoing softly as he turned from her when tears betrayed him. Despite the risk, the uncertainty on how he might react put her hand on him. “I’ve done bad things, I have a lot of red in my past that I can’t erase” she thought as remorse and guilt escaped her, drifted from her into this atmosphere. The things she’d done were enough to get S.H.I.E.L.D on her case, to send someone to wipe her out. The red in her past was still hanging over her; she doubted anything she could do would make up for it. Every day she worked towards it, to helping people, to putting her skills to good use, to try to balance it out. “Someone like me….can’t be forgiven….” she paused. “…nobody will see past what I have done.” She looked down a little avoiding eye contact but keeping her hand locked on his sleeve. He wasn’t going anywhere; she needed him to be here right now in order to fix this. She felt the tingle through her, sharp pains in her head, a desire to turn around and jump towards that floating tormentor, that cosmic cube carving into her head like knives making her whimper a little.

    “Your father is the man that raised you; your family are the ones who are there for you. Blood is only genetics, Asgard is your home, they are your family.” Her voice wavered as the memory and image of Ivan and the house fire fizzled into existence behind her. A small little flicker showed the women with the little Natalie and the man outside calling out to them, the man who became her family. After her comment on being a king, after asking him who he’d die for to protect she waited. If he could answer that then he was on the step towards stopping whatever mad plan he had and changing, anyone could change and if he wanted to people would help. His brother would help, they may not be his real family biologically but they were the ones who grew up with him and took care of him. It was like Ivan to Natasha, he wasn’t her father but he looked after her like he was even if his reasons might often pass her mind as being shifty but soon ignored. He’d not intended her to get taken. His answer was better than ‘nobody’, that would have been the worst answer right then. She could feel his arm trembling, she was starting to get through to him, she could see it, and she could feel it with the anger having subsided, with his words softening. Talking about dying for someone was a sore spot, one she felt she had to say, one she felt was needed to help start to get through to him. Her father died for her, her mother died for her, she didn’t think she deserved it sometimes; people would be alive now if it wasn’t for her-good people, innocent people. A shooting pain stabbed at her once more, in her head and chest, words telling her to turn around, telling her to find it, to release it. It wasn’t an audible voice, but she knew what It was saying, she knew what it wanted and the more she ignored it the more painful the pains were becoming.

    She felt hot and heavy, like she’d pass out where she stood from that painful calling trying to change her, trying to control her. Her breath quite erratic as her grip on her sleeve shook a little. “That’s better than nobody.” She smiled softly, her face reddening, not from the words but from the aching inside her sending what looked like sweat beads down her forehead. All she could feel was heat and the smell of burning as the surroundings started to flicker, sections changing for spit seconds. A wall at one side, grass and pavement on the floor another and then smoke above. It flickered with the haunting cry of a woman screaming out from what seemed like every direction. “Natalia!” the woman called out, screamed out as the flickering of this place continued. A pathway on the ground, a sudden staircase burning with flames, then back to the eerie darkness and remaining rainbow bridge before another section flickered to the same image. Tasha’s face paled, her eyes widened as she looked around hearing a little small cry out, that of a little child. Panic, fear, sadness, sorrow, and pain filled her up hearing what seemed like her mother’s voice calling to her, the taunting images of her burning house, her father dead, her mother trying to find her were enough to bring tears to her eyes. Tasha let go of Loki's arm and turned around closing her eyes trying to get this out of her head.
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Loki
 Posted: May 11 2012, 02:47 AM
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To believe he was worth anything would have been to set aside the ambiguity he had about his family. To give this woman a chance to understand him, even subconsciously, was a small piece of the puzzle to save him. Loki wanted to be with his family again, to be the prince he was supposed to be. He loved Thor, was proud of his brother and all his accomplishments but the envious nature within him was destined to hold him back. The god of mischief was not a man, was not easily swayed by emotion now, not since he'd lost everything, yet he wanted to be something more for them. Something greater, something Odin could be proud of. Loki felt his heart twist again in his chest, aching at the mere thought of a man who was not his father but more so than Laufey would have ever been. Abandoned in the temple, starving, close to death; that's what Odin had told him about his true heritage, how he was found and brought to Asgard. They'd wanted to protect him from the truth, so that he would never believe he was anything but Odin's son. Instead he had twisted that very thing which was supposed to have been good. And look where it had led him. They thought him dead, gone to a world of darkness and a void so unspeakably deep there was no return. Loki felt the consumptive blackness swallowing him whole. Where was the light in this? Where was his return to good and righteous triumph? Loki felt his muscles tense as she came closer to him, another hand upon him, this time trying to sooth him even as the anger had faded. He was weak, he knew this, and the only way to shut out the lack of power was to accept he was stronger than others, even if only to deceive himself. Naive in some regards Loki knew where he stood amongst others. A tightness in his throat echoed the sentiments of the woman before him, of how those on Asgard were his true family and not the brutes running rampant in Canada.

That was his doing.

Raising his eyes to her again, this time able to draw the strength to face her head on, Loki saw the change in physical stature, how she was fighting something within her own mind. Despite her trying to ignore it he saw it, the flicker of flames, the waves of heat, and soon the house which manifested itself. A woman was crying, calling out to her child, lost amongst the raging inferno this homestead had become. Turning from her for just a moment, glancing back and around to all directions he looked forward again, not seeing the Avenger but rather a little girl, frightened and scared. Crying? Loki couldn't tell from the heat, forced to raise a hand to protect his own face from what dangers flames posed. He wasn't about to panic, not afraid of the fires which could hurt him, but more afraid for the little girl. He was once a defenseless child, often seeking protection under his mother's cloak when he was in trouble from father, or even from the other children who decided he was weaker than they were. Loki was not without power anymore, not since becoming a powerful sorcerer and proving his might in how he brought strategic plans to fruition. Where had the woman gone? Was she the little girl? The voice of the woman called again, a name Loki would find later amongst the myriad of emotional transference they were both suffering as a result of his weakened hypnosis on the Avenger. And as the girl ran he heard the groan of the house, the creaking of breaking support. Embers cascaded down as floorboards above snapped, bringing down with it several heavy beams and smoldering planks. Loki immediately moved, throwing his arms around the girl and crouching down, shielding her with his own body even as the pain of burning struck his neck and shoulders. It was a physical pain akin to that of emotional torment; something he knew all too well.

Raising his head for just a moment, ensuring there were no other dangers about to fall on them, the Jotun prince peered down at the little red-headed girl he was trying to protect. "No child deserves this kind of pain." If this was her memory did he change it? Was she reliving it in a different manner the same as a dream? Loki closed his eyes, trying to breathe in relief as the memory around them flickered out of existence again, bringing them back to the Bifrost within his mind, the bridge which had extended again to a greater length than what they had been standing upon. Almost three dozen feet now, giving him a chance to stand if he so wanted. But instead he kept his arms where they were, wrapped around the little girl, trying to protect her from the evil his own mind had created. Still the good person at heart, the prince who only ever wanted to be equal to his brother and son of a great King in all the realms. It was this which brought about the next memory, of a darkened hall where Loki had received his first official stern talking-to from Odin, which had driven the poor child to tears. The tall, once intimidating figure of the god of mischief faded like green wisps of smoke, swirling around for a moment to leave Natasha Romanoff. Sniffling from somewhere dark, a corner hidden by erected pillars with flames undulating in the space, casting shadows and playing tricks.

--------------------

FOR THE HEART I ONCE HAD
ONCE MY HEART BEAT TO THE RHYTHM OF THE FALLING SNOW
BLACKENED BELOW, THE RIVER NOW FLOWS A STREAM OF MOLTEN VIRGIN SNOW.

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 Posted: May 11 2012, 05:03 PM
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    Not a lot of people in this world could claim to understand her or what she had gone through. Things that happened in her past did tend to stay buried, she didn’t like to talk about them and avoided thinking about them. It was a lot to deal with for her own piece of mind without other people knowing and judging her for her actions too. At least now her background was a mask, she didn’t use her real name, and Fury didn’t reveal her major history to anybody. Natasha was just the Russian, the former soviet spy; the one Fury trusted enough to label her as his second in command when it came to any Avenger details. That was a weird feeling for her, when someone trusted her enough to handle things like that, major things; the Avenger Initiative wasn’t a trivial matter, not even slightly. Whilst her report was buried there were a small few who knew anything about her past, a small few who had a clue about some of the things she’d done. Knowing and understanding were two different things though, they weren’t always merged together. Unless people experienced the same or similar things to Natasha then they didn’t know what it was like, they couldn’t share that pain and suffering. There was a lot buried deep within the exterior walls of this Russian, she locked them down, she hid them and didn’t let the impact her daily life. She did her job, she did all the important things right but kept her personal life non-existent, that was a sacrifice that she could live with-did live with.

    Her experience helped her build up words, ones she thought would help this situation and so far they were paying off. Tasha had successfully calmed him down; she’d avoided hostility and seemed to be getting somewhere. Small movements, small words and feelings he expressed were helping her tread that thin line right now. He had been the enemy, he had broken into the base, he’d attacked S.H.I.E.L.D agents, he’d fought them and now he seemed quite a different person. There was no violence, there was no hostility and anger, his broken frame seemed to crumble more with each comment she made, after each memory expressed for her to witness. Tasha had gained his name, his origin and linked it to those feelings about his family. Family was something she knew about, she’d experienced the loss at such a young age, and she experienced the suffering, the fear of rejection, the feeling of being used. Part of her intended to bring that to the surface, but whilst she found the words she didn’t intend the feelings and memory to follow. Many nights she’d dreamed about her family, unaware whether it was a dream or a memory due to its ever changing scenario. Sometimes her father saved her, sometimes he gave her to her mother and they survived, other times Ivan barged in and rescued her. Then, those few times she did not escape the flames and perished with her loved ones, people she’d known loved and sacrificed themselves for her, people she couldn’t doubt the intention of.

    Unintentionally her mind flickered on bringing her memories and dreams of the event to life; it engulfed them I the raging inferno that was what was left of the home she remembered. Gaps filled in by her mind, by her subconscious, little things she didn’t remember but part of her locked away. The pull of her mind devoured her and when she turned everything changed, it took on a life of its own and felt more real than any dream she’d had. Tasha was not herself anymore but the young child trapped once more in the flames, a form she fell constantly into during her dreams. The small frame hunched over in the corner of the room shaking, crying as the fear and panic took her over. Her small tiny voice whimpered out, the Russian flowing out in the gentle cry calling for her mother “мать?” she followed it with a cough before seeing the male standing there forcing her instinctively to run away from both him and the flames terrifying her. A feeling so overwhelming all others seemed dormant. “мать? Отец?” her small voice called to her parents again, first to her mother, then to her father. The crackling at the ceiling sent terror through her again before a pair of arms grabbed her refusing to let go. The young Natalia trembled burying herself into him hiding herself from the fiery surroundings.

    As she shifted to look up to the figure the house cleared away leaving them back at the bridge, a more stable bridge she whimpered out one small word. “Cпасибо.” She practically whispered with a smile, a little word that meant thank you in her native tongue, a word she was always using with her parents when they did something for her. Her fear drifted away and she felt herself calming down though fearful of these new surroundings, lost to her younger mind, her child mind clinging onto him whilst he made no effort to move. As if wiped clean of moments before Tasha found herself back to normal, at least mentally but apparently still in the small frame from moments before and being held onto by the enemy. Unsure about what to do she froze in place staring at the side as her brain ran over the scenario, the fire, him grabbing her and burying her under the danger. That was the only reason she didn’t move or try any attempt to hit him-child or not she’d have clocked him in some very delicate places. Lucky for Natasha she didn’t have to worry about it for too long as he fades away leaving her standing there looking at her tiny hands to check whether she was back to normal again. Well, as normal as she could be stuck in some warped mental concoction of this mind-controlling brother of Thor.

    She looked around with the new scene, now it took the form of a darkened hall which seemed darker than natural, almost like the clouding of emotions was tainting and warping it. The sniffling caught her ears and she looked around tracking the source to pillars with dancing flames causing little rippling shadows joining in the song. Stepping closer she braved the shadows spotting the little dark haired boy hiding away. He seemed sad, he looked it and she could see the wet trail down his cheeks as she glanced over him and the rest of the hall before she moved closer. An adult approaching a child was always intimidating, especially a stranger, perhaps that was why she was still in her prior state, her youthful one. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces of this puzzle together and come up with the similarities in the boy’s features, the way he’d vanished and how she had experienced her own mental change in form. Loki, it had to be him, but whether he was himself in this form or like she had been moments ago, enveloped in her childish daze was unclear. At least she knew English, her younger self hadn’t spoken it much, was too young to start learning it, so communication would be easier. “Why are you crying?” Tasha kept her words short, her tone friendly thinking over what the point in this would be, why this would be something playing on his mind. Taking it in she didn’t want to miss anything, a single thing that could help her get out or figure him out.
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Loki
 Posted: Jun 2 2012, 11:32 PM
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He'd refused to let go of the child, to back away from what made him weak and somehow he knew it was the right thing to do. Protecting someone who wasn't himself, to give himself to someone else, that would have allowed him to find his place in the universe. Torn between two worlds when the rest of his so-called family knew where they stood. He could feel that much, at least. What was he to do then, when all seemed lost? Was he to listen to the whispers constantly plaguing him? Did they even make sense most of the time? What about some of the time? He felt his heart racing now even as he started to draw back from the little girl, from the woman he had but what seemed like an eternity ago enslaved to his very whims. He never made it far enough to look her in the eyes, to tell the little girl everything would be alright, that she would be loved and the future would hold many good things for her. No, instead he was gone, feeling the sudden absence, like floating through a black void. The halls, he remembered the halls next; the gold with flickering flame casting deeper shadows than anything he had ever seen in the dark. Afraid of monsters, told stories of the ferocious Jotuns from another realm. Were they safe there within the walls? He'd only been playing with Thor, had gone off into the gardens, near the great fountains to try and help his brother chase down a horse that had gotten free. Massive beasts they were. Loki had only managed to get hurt, earning him a disdainful look from his father and of course taunting and teasing from some of the other children. Why couldn't he be strong like Thor? Even when they were so small they were still competing with one another, Loki never adding up to the first born of Odin.

Tears streaked down his face as he hid in the darkness, in the corners he found were more of a solace than a curse. Why had father looked at him that way? Could he do nothing that would make him love both of them? Sometimes Loki wondered, even at such a young age, why his intelligent and brightness was overlooked for the favor of a warrior. Loki was still learning, still growing; had been alive a lot longer than some of the mortals father often talked about, and now he was sitting confused, trying to figure out how to make his father proud of him. Startled by a small voice, by another child he looked up, bright eyes hovering a moment between angry and unsure. Was she just going to tease him like the others were going to? Why did he have black hair and they blond? Why was he so different than the King and Queen? He looked nothing like them, was most likely adopted, was probably the weakest of the litter because he wasn't really their child. Loki's father reassured him every day he was his son, there was no doubt about it and Loki went back to being proud of that. He was a prince; they had no right to say those things. "B-Because they—" Was he crying about something so petty? "They don't understand me. Because father doesn't love me. He looked like he didn't." Every child wanted approval from their parents, boys more so from their fathers, and that was all Loki truly wanted from Odin. Maybe it was misplaced; maybe he should have loved his father regardless of what happened here and there, now and again. Closing his eyes he turned away from the little girl, not sure what he was supposed to tell her. "Going to tease me too?" All of the children were mean; they always had been, even when he'd wanted to play games with them. He was skinnier, smaller than they were; not a real warrior, that's what they had told him. He was good with knives, that's what he was learning, but he would never wield great weapons like his brothers.

Still they grew up with one another and they were destined for even greater, sometimes more terrible things. Flames flickered around the both of them, casting shadows with smirking faces and whispers of a beautiful lie, drawing the attention of the younger Loki, his eyes immediately snapping up to where the voice had come from. Whispers of a time free of pain, of a world he could have and he felt the trembling of the world around him, the flickering of memories even as the void beyond started to fade in from the darkness of the halls. A tenuous hold on a dream — a memory — at best.
    [ This is made of fail. I swear. u.u Sorry it took so long. ]

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FOR THE HEART I ONCE HAD
ONCE MY HEART BEAT TO THE RHYTHM OF THE FALLING SNOW
BLACKENED BELOW, THE RIVER NOW FLOWS A STREAM OF MOLTEN VIRGIN SNOW.

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*Black Widow
 Posted: Jun 10 2012, 12:28 AM
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    Things seemed to turn so fast here, Tasha had lost sight of where she was, what was happening both here and with her true form. She knew not how much time had passed, everything felt so strange, so alien here that she was not going to question things she was unsure of right now. Finding herself in her child form was just one more unusual trait of this world, merging memories with their current mental selves into this hybrid of thoughts. The new surroundings were luxurious; they were expensive looking and did not follow the modern world. It told her that she was somewhere else, outside of the time she knew, before even her own birth or set somewhere outside Earth. The young child became her focus, the dark hair, the sadness in the voice and overall signs of sorrow. The child was upset, he was hiding after having done something or seen something that upset him. Approaching with caution, she kept her mind replaying over her behaviour and word choice, she wanted to seem like a young girl, it was less intimidating. That was helpful with the amount of time she’s seen Tony Stark behaving like a child, so she used a little of that experience to form her own younger self. Tasha had never been a playfully sweet child, not a childish game playing one anyway.

    As she approached the boy, she kept her voice soft, her words short and tried to keep up her smile to try to stimulate a more lighthearted response from him. The boy was crying, he was upset and apparently it sounded like he had a fight with his father, or something happened with other children that had him yelled at by his father or disapproved of. Something had happened, something he was upset about and it had brought them to this part of his mind. No doubt had her identifying the figure as the younger self of the infiltrator, the male that was causing the trouble at the base. This figure brought them here to part of his memory for a reason, it was one she had to work out quickly before it ran out and changed to something else. Tasha stepped closer and looked him over she sat herself down next to him. “We always get in trouble.” she muttered and put her legs up bent at the knee leaning her arms on the tops. The use of we was chosen on purpose, it had the suggestion she too was in trouble at time. Her choice of comment was to have him feel he was not along in his troubles, to have some sort of comparative for him. Of course, being in her child form and thinking as her adult self had its perks like right now.

    “He was being a mean daddy? What was wrong?” she tilted her head to look at him, not pointing her finger of blame asking what he’d done wrong, but asking what had gone wrong, what had happened. Finger pointing might make him negative towards her, make him thinking she was picking on him or blaming him. “No.” she shook her head slowly and just sat there with her arms on her knees waiting to see what the purpose of this mental show was. “They just mean too. Don’t be sad. If you’re sad, they see it and be mean again.” It felt weird having to speak with broken words, trying to prevent her usual sentencing and colder comments. Trying to be more understanding and sweet was not quite Natasha’s style and she had little choice but to go with what she could, try to gather Intel for later. Her file on this incident would be rather long and she needed to be sure to ask the right things and keep her wits about her. “What’s your name? My name is Tasha” she forced a wide grin on her face; she’d seen children do it enough when they spoke about themselves to copy that movement.
[ oh god i feel like her dialog is retarded cus it's all broken lol ]
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