Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

_{Warnings: language, violence, mild gore, mild sexual humor, hints of torture, brief mentions of noncon, panic attacks}

So many, many lights.

The lights did irritate him, lining the walls in the dim car tunnel, even as he exited it. Always had. There were too many times when, in his searches, he'd deluded himself that they were something more. Something less artificial, more...real.

In childhood he'd often wonder about lights. About what they were. If they were more than just a spell. If such lights could even truly exist without being conjured.

Of course, he'd learned since his youth that such things did not exist. Or at least, if they did, that they were not for him to find.

There were other things that he searched for at present anyway.

More pressing, less whimsical things.

Still, he knew. Even in youth—even from youth, that had been all he'd done to the lights. Chase, or farther, had they ever been within his means to reach. Drive away. Be it the light from the heat of a burning conflagration, or the warm glow of a fae. A golden reflect, or the muted shine of ice...

The glint of Chitauri metal, he reminded himself sternly. What you actually need. Pushing errant thoughts aside.

Worst case luck, the mortals of SHIELD had their grimy paws on it. Best case, his scrying uncovered it, and he would recover it from the grimy paws of whatever other mortal had happened upon it.

He gritted his teeth. Of course, the desire to not draw attention would get in the way.

Besides, there were worse cases. The Chitauri could have all of it.

Such didn't appear to be the case luckily. It wasn't long of more scrying that a mask of one of the aliens revealed itself. Lifting it from the human's "thrift shop," despite them being able to apparently hide it from government seizure all this time, was laughable. Reaching out with his magic again revealed still more, though lesser scraps. Sizable, and still wholly useful, some of the microchips and wiring surviving.

He couldn't care much what the metallurgist wanted with the Chitauri materials. He wasn't much for the practice of metallurgy, it being of little to no interest to him. And as long as the man held up his end of the bargain, he could care much less.

Still, he thought as he came around the corner where his latest scrying had led him. Trying to hide his sudden, freezing halt as something less inconspicuous, more casual, as he'd looked up and realized his absentminded state. Realized where it had allowed him to wander. He wished he'd been tasked to gather something else.

Something he could gather far, far away from this realm. This wretched realm.

The foot of Stark Tower seemed to be the favored spot at which to leave flowers and memorials. Plans to make something more concrete and specific to the incident were being talked over, but only now. On top of clean up, some people seemed almost put off by the idea, and debates over whether to erect anything or not were ever present. Sensibly, given just verbal and social interaction that had followed the invasion, it was sensible to say that the site would be nothing but a lure for conspiracy theorists and the highly religious, and conflict between they themselves and angry mourners would be almost inevitable.

The hooded figure paused in what seemed from the stutter that took his steps, to be a sudden decision. And there on the corner he stood. Nearly a block away, gazing at it; it would be foolish to venture closer, he knew.

It was foolish to be here at all really.

Especially given the notion that the building's owner was surely aware to monitor for arcane energies by now. If he wasn't overestimating him. Truly, the sense of respect the "Avengers" had earned from him, he would be lying if he said it hadn't waned since that day.

Waned, but not dissipated. He distantly wondered what masochistic fascination kept him rooted to the spot. His eyes unable to look away from the mortals' gestures and tokens of tribute.

As it were, someone stopped there next to him at some point. Though he didn't notice, much less that their "Sad, isn't it?" was directed at him until after the fact. It took him long enough to respond, that by the time he noticed the the words were for him, he was turning to a, "Hey... You okay?"

Typical.

The random overly-sociable for his taste—and for this city for that matter, in his experience—stranger stared back at his brown eyes half framed by a mess of darker brown hair when he paid them mind. It clicked a moment soon enough to save himself that the deadpan look that was probably his face would do nothing more than invite more of the prying. At least, here with this person of this place—be their care born of bored prying or authenticity. So he tried to morph his features into something of a smile.

Whatever resulted, he caught the other's involuntary slight drawback and facial scrunch. They recovered quickly enough that even he would—almost—have to be slightly more impressed than amused. Even if that recovery was into an awkward smile that excused.

Luckily this left open an opportunity for him to turn away and give a nod to whatever was said softly during the next near minute, as he was paying it no mind. And in seemingly the same amount of time he found himself the only one standing on the curb again.

Eventually, a pale hand shied from beneath the top garb to pull it more securely closed, and with a dismissive noise he allowed himself to be herded back into the flow of the perpetually hurrying crowd.

He would have to go with his city hopping plan after all, with that lapse of judgement.

A stray dog sniffed hungrily at the leather of the booted feet. He ignored it as it followed for a few blocks. Focusing. Buses may sometimes have cameras, but less urban places had far fewer. Either way, a handful of the devices was far more manageable than the seemingly endless amount he seemed to encounter in a place like this.

Besides, he thought as he settled in a seat, the ride would give him a chance to rest. His magic reserve, if nothing else. Even now he wasn't certain if the face he'd replicated on the formed coin was correct. He was just too irritably tired to care at the moment, it was starting to register. How long exactly had he been searching? His mind hadn't really kept track of it at the time. Even now it wasn't vitally important information. Still, he thought about he hadn't taken a break to rest since he'd arrived in this realm. It seemed just hours. A day? Possibly two? His only rest being the time taken to scry. If one could even count that. Still more magic he'd used on top of upholding a glamour enchantment off and on.

The thought reminded him that he was holding such a guise right now.

A quick but subtle check for cameras. Then the head tucked chin back into his chest. Might as well rest completely...

Let any of the mortals dare touch him.

The passenger in the seat across the aisle from him squinted his eyes. He could have sworn the lock of brown hair hanging from under the hood had just coiled itself and turned black—darkened as if wood by fire. Then again... He turned back to the bottle concealed in the brown bag that the bus driver had so graciously ignored. He had just gotten off of work...

The nine to five grind. Never did it not feel good to hang up an apron at the end of a full day of work. There was that one guy who had complained about their little cafe not serving hot chocolate. Well, at least not the cheap store brand that some came into the place looking for. Theirs were specialty brands. Dark hot chocolate, milk hot chocolate, soy hot chocolate, white hot chocolate.

Still, she thought as she exited the building, not even near 'Can I speak to a manager?' status man could put a damper on her mood. Not when the rest of the day was met with promise of going home where there was quiet and promise of a paycheck.

She'd made short her goodbyes as she snagged a complimentary-for-employees highly caffeinated tea, ever to know and form opinions on the flavors. There was literally a new recommendation every other day for what they should try. It was like a bar, but with tea instead of alcohol. Though the owner was in favor of throwing a little twenty-one and older alcohol fest every few weeks.

Though working a work day grind was working a workday grind, she supposed she could have gotten a job at a worse place. Their prices were more affordable than the bigger national chain coffee shops around surprisingly. So while they got just as many uppity as well as down to earth wealth patrons as one would expect, they also had enough hipsters, aspiring writers and crash studying college students staking out a table next to an outlet for hours on end, and of course the average simple passerby, simply there for their morning fix. She wasn't much of a tea or coffee person herself, but she could see how the smell of them was near if not actually therapeutic for some.

Still, today seemed like a home as soon as possible day. If the young woman had to look at another flip-lip lid topped cup for at least twelve hours, she might lose her mind. The thought even had her nearly sentence her own cradled cup to the next trash can she passed. Almost. She was content simply rolling the bottom of it along the waste bin's domed top.

Going full force with getting home asap, she decided to shave five minutes off of her walk back by cutting through alleyways. Something she avoided for the obvious reasons. Muggers, rapists, drunk people, giant mutant rats raiding dumpsters, said giant mutants biting her and giving her some deathly disease, someone finding her passed out on a pile of garbage due to something related to any of those or not...

Still, she exited the several alleys despite these stigmas as planned, and was falling back into her autopilot daze as she approached the next one until she saw. A figure, walking into the alley before her. She thought nothing of it as they hadn't seemed to pay her any mind. Bad justification for an even moderately populated rural area, she knew. But the statistics of likelihood that nothing would happen were still on her side.

Halfway through, the oddly cloaked figure stopped. Causing her steps to falter.

But she, hesitantly, moved on nonetheless. A cloak wasn't practical attacking wear, she reasoned to herself. Besides, this wasn't city-city. If she screamed loud enough if she failed to just elbow the person where the sun didn't shine and make a getaway, someone would hear her. Maybe want to be a hero.

Assuming the figure had parts that would hurt if attacked where the sun didn't shine. Either way, she thought as she noticed what they were doing, the middle of a dark alley was an odd place to try and admire yourself in a mirror.

Just keep walking, you paranoid maniac, she scolded herself. Someone dressed in a gaudily green cloak was easily enough describable to the police. The young woman almost laughed aloud when she saw a soft light from what must have been a phone where their back was turned to her still. Apparently another perpetrator of the stopping. Paranoia dismissed then.

Almost dismissed.

She twitched but ignored it when the cloak billowed despite a lack of wind in the alley. It wasn't as if the person had seemed to react to her.

Yet suddenly, just as she was passing, her stomach turned and the ground wasn't there.

It must have only been a foot, two feet, that she dropped. But it didn't change the fact that drop she did, due to the disappearance of the ground.

It took her body a moment to register that she was falling. Even if it would have sooner and afforded her time to react, the surface she landed on wasn't solid. Bumps, softness, spaces where her foot slipped through.

She instantly fell onto her back with nothing stable to stand on. The bumps and mounds dug into her, bending her body over and around them at odd angles.

Before any of this could fully register in those first few moments, the sharper of the pains came spiraling to the forefront. Lashing from the initially pained spot on her upper arm like a flame eating fuel. Hungry, rabid, and burning.

It was difficult to focus on where she was, what happened, if moving was overly smart. The putrid rotting smell of the place registered just as her hand met a fur or felt-like texture she couldn't see to tell in the darkness and promptly fell through it with the slightest weight, hitting with a wet sound whatever was underneath it. She was already fighting back a retch between the pain and the timing of that sound with the smell, not even having to feel the slippery, malleable mass her hand had entered.

The rhetorical flames from the pain in her shoulder had spread to her entire body now, in the matter of the seconds since she'd fallen. She felt her body shaking uncontrollably, and for a moment wasn't sure that she wasn't actually on fire, a gray film over her vision.

What must have been not even five seconds after the drop, her eyes had just enough time to see the very dimly lit ceiling vanish. The sudden light blinded her for a moment. A moment, as there was someone knelt next to her now. She recognized the cloak of the stopped figure first as they leaned over her. Her eyes were just confused enough between adjusting to darkness one moment, and the figure was at such an angle to the light, that she could see their face.

And recognized it.

As the man with the army of aliens that had attacked Manhattan.

Her heart lurched.

She didn't know his name, hadn't seen him outside of fast moving videos and sub-par pictures. But as it was also supported by the near out of place cloak, she was almost completely sure it was him. The man firing down at the streets in Manhattan. The man in an amateur cell phone video ordering a crowd in Germany to kneel, moments after dispatching a police cruiser.

The young woman wondered when the floor had become solid as she raised an arm in what was all she could do in the way of self defense. Her body didn't allow her to do anything more, other arm too crippled with still escalating burning, at the pain—that she could experience this much pain in the matter of what couldn't have started more than ten seconds ago—of her joints feeling excruciatingly strained then cracking, to drag herself up now that she had purchase. Mind so sure her life was about to end if she didn't do something as she saw his hands raise with a glowing film.

She felt her mouth open at the same time as the gray darkening, but wasn't sure if she cried out, due to the ringing-turning-hissing growing to deafening levels in her ears. Which was what alerted her to the spots crowding out her vision. The green clad figure in one part of her vision, her distorting hand, nails blackening and elongating, in another.

Darkness took her.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Dusk was falling.

When she'd awoke, the “prince” was nowhere to be seen. Something she, of course, noticed only after momentary sleep inertia became full fledged startled confusion—Laying on the floor? Body feels weird? Where is this place? Body tensed as she scrambled to be upright.

Became reminisce of the days previous, finally lapsing into remembered acceptance.

Any other situation, this might have been interesting. Like in a, nonthreatening, planned situation perhaps. But the whole sneeze and suddenly 'Here, have a mass murderer and the body of a mythological creature.' schtick...

The chimera sighed with a vague whimper.

What was even happening?

She tried not to run it over in her head again.

No matter how she looked at it, it was the same.

A would-be tyrant had kidnapped her, and now had claimed to want to fix it.

A complete stranger fleshed out with only the knowledge that he had committed heinous, inhuman acts, was who she was relying on.

An inhuman...possibly not-human had literally gotten her turned into a beast, and now she was trusting him.

She was sitting in a room, waiting for his help, oh god—

She had risen to her feet without even realizing it.

Maybe...maybe she should leave, while she still had the chance. It would, it would probably be best, right? She was waiting for a mass murderer to return. Even if she wasn't to meet the same, murdered fate by his hand, whatever his intention it couldn't be anything good. You don't go straight from mowing down countless “Midgardians” in the supposed interest of rule to helping one.

Even if it was just his interest to cover his tracks and nothing more sinister. Even then, if she could or did just leave...what then? She didn't know where she was. She doubted she would even know where to fix this problem even if she did. And she wasn't human at the moment. The thought to doubt Loki's words earlier about passerbys hadn't crossed her mind until now, and even now she didn't doubt them. What were the odds of finding not only someone to not doubt her sentience, but who could or would help her change back? Get home? Were these simple things? Common knowledge? Was the psychopath really her only option? Was she willing to overlook his deeds to get what she wanted? What could she even do?

God she felt like crying.

That brought forward the wonder if she even could cry in this form. It didn't help.

Fortunately the thought was knocked out of her by the door creaking open, quick bootfalls in procession.

She didn't know why, but she instantly quietly dropped back down to a laying position. Head down on paws.

The chimera stayed silent and where she was laid in the corner. Though following him raptly with her eyes. Trying to stifle her feelings, suddenly confusingly joined by eager hopefulness. Stifle them other than her eyes following him, at least.

It was a few minutes later, once he'd been settled at the desk and had thumbed through the pages of the tome laid out there, that he abruptly turned to her, book still in hand and eyes still glued to it. The chimera suppressed a reactionary sitting up to just a twitch. Head still on paws. Waiting.

One lank hand slowly rose, fingers shaped as if holding a tapered glass with smallest finger supporting its base. They twined through the air slowly. Golden eyes watched a fine mist be produced from them. A mist which then slowly made its way towards her.

At that she did suddenly sit up. Realizing herself, she forced herself to be still, to not back away as the mist reached her. Hit her head as a small spot of cool wind, spread from there to cloak her entire body.

Vanished.

Silence, as they both gave it a moment.

...The only thing it seemed to have done was to make her feel as if she had a sheen of cold water over her. Fighting especially hard to suppress an unexpected urge to shake—as a dog, not a cold human, she paved her face placidly neutral and looked to green clad caster.

Who was looking at her, yet not. Eyes clearly deep in thought. Brow furrowed.

After he'd cast that spell, Loki tried it again to no avail. Then he moved on to a different one. And another. A longer gap as he read through books. Then he tried another.

Okay, she realized. Now feeling as if a million insects were crawling on every part of her, biting, tingling, burning. So this wasn't going to be a quick fix as she wanted to believe. Realized that she had been believing that.

By the time it had been dark out through the window for what must have been several hours, she was already curled back laying down in her place. Giving up on watching him expectantly as he read intently through the fourth book she'd watched him switch to. Just enjoying that the most painful of the castings seemed to be over, or given up on.

Given that his back was to her now, it seemed that he too had given up on changing her back for now. She didn't question it. There were only so many times one could fail at something before feeling foolish about trying it. Something she knew firsthand.

Great, now she was becoming morbidly pessimistic. Already.

At least by now she was back to trusting him. Her chest almost hurt from how hard her heart had stayed hammering for the longest time. For now, she would convince herself to keep trusting him.

Whether she should or not.

She was gratef—glad, that the tether hadn't made a return appearance. But once they'd left they'd most definitely traveled through the night this time without stopping.

Something she wouldn't have been happy about, had her new features not been distracting. Her body was almost completely healed by now, save for the last few patches leftover and the now blistered ones that seem to have been irritated by the attempt at reverting her.

So it was easier to notice. Things like, the fact that she could apparently see in the dark now? Not astoundingly, perfectly clear. But definitely better than only seeing a...hand in front of your face.

That, and she wasn't tiring out as fast as her human self did. Her view on fitness had been about as soft sell as one could expect of a young adult who liked to be healthy but didn't always have the time, energy, or motivation. A couple of weeks of every other day jogging, a couple nothing, a week everyday, nothing, so on and so forth. Enough not to embarrass herself going up stairs, but not enough to run a marathon.

And that's what Loki had her doing: a marathon. Through the night, orbited and lead by two orbs of floating light that he'd conjured, in a display she refused to grant him was cool. He rode the horse, and she kept up just behind him. Or next to the horse when she could, as he made no efforts to keep the pace down to keep from kicking debris into her face, even on the more narrow roading. He'd even acquired a carriage at some point in which to store goods once the horse's back had no more room. The temptation was strong, but she hadn't tested her luck trying to ride in it.

She didn't have anymore expectant glares for him, so she and the horse hadn't been stuck back into the stable of the three markets yet today save for once. Even then, she'd followed him, at first a few large paces behind and then closer as the light traffic of people began staring. He'd said nothing to her.

The only words he'd even said to her all day—since his pre-sleep threat, actually—had been “We're leaving.”

She'd gotten separated from him once. She had given up looking for his garbs through the sea of legs, partially helped by the looks she was getting, especially after a man tried to rope her—literally—to come with him. After ducking and dodging a few times under stalls and stands and the rest amidst the crowd over dirt and smoothed stone floors far enough away from the spot, she'd embraced her new sense of smell to weed her former travel companion out. Finding him stopped at another merchant's table. Bartering. Given that he was nowhere near where she'd lost him, it seemed clear keeping up with her whereabouts wasn't a priority.

He'd most definitely been using her as a bartering chip at one point after though. It'd stopped pretty much just as soon as her attention had been garnered, but he'd definitely been offering her up in exchange for an oddly shaped glass orb. Just before the merchant—who had an...odd face. He was probably not human.—was opening his mouth to reply, Loki cut him off that “the beast” is worth two.

An argument had ensued—”Have you even ever used your own wares for their intended purpose?” “Well...” “Then how would you know their worth?” “I know this has passed hands the likes—”—where she was again unsure whether or not giving whatever was in store for her from her travel companion a chance to conspire was wise.

But he'd stopped. At least moved on, from offering she herself up for trade, and so here she remained.

...God what was wrong with her...

Was she really so desperate? As to trust this...

Criminal? She'd heard at least two whisperings from people who'd bothered to notice them, Questioning one another. “Is that the scorned prince?” He was some sort of prince. Sure. She'd accepted that by now. He'd flown around in gold with a cape and scepter in New York, enough of an approximation that she could accept the title maybe wasn't just a jab. What, was he from a royal family of conquering warmongers? She guessed from the “mad prince” description the second whisperings gave, that it wasn't a well-liked thing. One had even suggested they turn him in to the Ein-ha-something.

So criminal. Even off of Earth. And yet, she'd only seen him disguise himself maybe once. She definitely remembered that, as it was at a market tucked between buildings practically covered in gold, and when they were clear, she could see buildings on streets paved in the substance in the distance. She wondered why he dropped the guise at all. Fruedian slips of guilt? Reckless? Arrogant? His green gambeson was barely just faded enough to blend in with the dress of the flow of people around them. He was still leathered atop that, with bronze shoulder strap buckles and vambraces. No gold armor pieces and adornments, or gaudy horned helmet, like in the grainy videos. So maybe he was making half an effort.

Even then, he himself was royalty. Royalty wasn't exactly a low profile thing. Maybe, she thought, since once she'd started watching she didn't see many giving undisguised him even a second glance. Barely anyone.

Still, that left her an accessory to anyone who did take notice of him. Just as guilty. Just as much of a target. Yet, for seemingly frailer and frailer reason, here she still was.

Did the end justify the means?

To hell with that, she didn't even know for sure he was helping her! To hell with his word! He might've just been strengthening this...curse last night with his castings! It didn't escape her, or either of their, she was sure, notice that people looked at her warily. Maybe he was just keeping her around to be his intimidation factor.

Today was her day to be crushed by all anxieties at once apparently, she thinks as she feels her heart speed up, walking after the green-clad other practically automatically at this point. It all hadn't occurred to her the days previous, too caught in the shock of being thrust into too much new at once. What if he tried to get her to attack somebody? Her heart jumps to her throat for a moment when she remembers the stone. He could make her attack somebody. Couldn't he? Her mind raced and wondered if there were other ways, if she'd even know it if he was using magic to control her.

Then again, Loki sure as hell didn't seem overly concerned about her. At least not enough to keep up with her. The Midgardian had most definitely almost been kidnapped from her kidnapper. She didn't know for sure what he was doing at all these...markets, trade posts, alien version of store or flea market, whatever, but at least at optimistic moments she could make herself believe it was to fix her. The fact that she didn't know for sure what he was doing, which no amount of listening in was truly helping, was something else she didn't want to think about; whether or not she was just allowing a bad thing to conspire literally right in front of her.

...what if he attacked somebody?

What the hell would she do? What could she do? The thought that maybe he was just a man who had happened to have a death stick and flew around on a death machine in New York was banished just as quickly as it was summoned. Just.

Should she even be defending him if he got into an altercation? How would she even know who were the good guys and who the bad? Were they the bad guys? She and her travel companion? Did minding your own business suddenly take you off of that list?

Why were the intricacies of defending a psychopath even on her list of things she had to decide today? How was that fair? This world made no sense but she wasn't some protagonist thrust into a story that wound up on the shelf in the teenage section. She had an apartment and bills to pay! Oh god, she had an apartment and bills to pay... How long would she be here? It had only been a few days in this fantasy world and already she wasn't coping well. What if she was here longer?

Her eyes were on his back before she even knew. It was all the chimera could do to hope dog-ish features don't emote as well as human as she felt...something. It wasn't at all a happy something.

At this point, it was all she could do to keep her mind from kicking into a woe-is-me spiral. Normal life depressions were the last thing she needed to deal with on top of this D&D nightmarescape.

As she lowers from her misery, and her eyes readjust, her mind is snapped the rest of the way out of it quickly. Luckily. Not luckily. Wrong wording, she thinks.

There was nothing lucky about being thrust into an immediate choice of where her thoughts had just been. The very definition of jinxing oneself, of speaking of the devil.

Because behind his back, a knife ghosts into existence with a shine from nothingness.

That gives a flit of fear and anxiety for more reason than one.

They'd made their way to an outer edge of the market while she was caught in her thoughts. The stands were scant here. In fact, they were on a dusty exit road. And the man before Loki, preceding conversation she sorely wishes she'd have paid attention to at this moment, wasn't at a stand at all, but a horse-drawn cart.

She'd never had much of a hero complex. Or, so she assumed. This was one of those you don't know how you'd react until you're actually in it situations.

And in this case, the chimera's jaws lead in and bit down onto the knife as it's being moved to be affronted.

In hindsight, she was amazed she hadn't managed to collect a wound on her gums.

In present, Loki froze. She could have sworn he'd turned statue, were it not for the slight give of his arm.

For a moment, the chimera froze too. Surprised at herself for just one moment.

Then her resolve bolstered. She pulled at the knife.

“...I know the value of my goods. And that value is what I expect to be compensated.” The conversation before her had hitched, her companion's usually smooth-talk bargaining mouth apparently just as frozen as he.

“...and I know what little use I shall have of it.” At least it had been, for a second. “And that you will not be compensated.”

“This is pure grade. I sha'nt let it go so easily.”

Loki sighs. “Sometimes you just have to let. Go.”

There was clear warning there, she was sure directed at them both. If she hadn't been sure before, a moment later there was pain.

The feeling was extremely odd. A feeling like both a vibration, and an extreme cold shooting straight to the nerves in her teeth at once. Heat? A yelp somehow manages not to produce itself. She's not sure if she should be grateful he hadn't decided to just twist the knife instead.

Was this his only knife? It was far from her mind to think he would do anything other than just yank it from her grasp, or maybe just summon another. She'd hoped not, of course. But the fact remained.

Maybe it was just the principal of the thing. Had she learned to push his buttons just that quickly? If she had, she might have given herself a moment to laugh, and maybe ponder, had she not been invested in the midst of their miniature contest to overpower the other at the moment.

In peripheral above her, she saw Loki turn his head to aside. Almost to look back at her.

His eyes burned with irritation, still clearly fighting not to manifest said emotion in any other form other than the ways he already was risking. Still, somehow, his company didn't notice. Or at least, didn't acknowledge.

“You're a sage, aren't you?” Hardly giving Loki a chance to respond, the man plowed on. “You sages as you call yourselves undervalue because of your use. Then undercut the profit I need, with your, effeminate trickery practices.”

The pain increased, along with his grip, and she felt her form threaten to collapse. Felt unconsciousness calling to her. But she didn't let go. Letting out a low growl and giving another tug.

His eyes flashed back to the man. He gave his own tug in turn. For the first time she thought to wonder just how strong he was as her forepaws left the ground slightly as a result.

“You would dare—”

“—Save it,” the other said as he put up a hand to stop Loki's words. With a huff, the man turned—she could almost laugh, at how blissfully ignorant he was. Allowing Loki such a basic, courteous trust as to turn his back. Her form was tempted, instantly, to let go as he stepped just out of danger's reach. Her teeth hurt, this tug of war was tiring, and the pain. Damn it, the pain. Her teeth were practically vibrating against the dagger as it is. The tiny scritches grating against her newly sensitive hearing.

“Perhaps some other time. When you are feeling more reasonable, then.” Pale green eyes cut back to the man.

Who mounted his horse, and left.

Which abruptly led to her being flipped onto her back, a foot on her throat. All in the matter of a literal instant, with no warning other than a moment of stillness with the man's departure. Hardly into her struggles and ragged strained breathing, she felt the point of the same hiding dagger begin to press into her chest.

Sideways, the flat of the blade, but the panic set in nonetheless.

“Is that why you brought the beast along, only to cut out its heart?, when the moment was right for...what?” The man from the day before. There was the thud of something heavy being put into Loki's carriage.

“You're right.” She felt the knife trail down, and she was sure it drew blood the whole way. The demigod not letting up the pressure. At the very least, she'd lost fur. Her reactionary tensing at the initial feeling of the dagger was broken for a moment, overpowered by a spastic planting of a foot to the leathered chest. “I should start by gutting it.”

“Yeh can't go doin' things like that and an' expect me not to be curious.”

Loki tilted his head, eyes not breaking from menacing the chimera. Who was missing the effect by now anyway, as she was busy trying to breath. “What was that saying about curiosity?”

“That it's good for nurturing growth? That it leads to knowledge? That it's the only way to lea—”

“Stop speaking.”

Golden, watering eyes managed to look up between wheezes to see the Asgardian with dagger raised above his head, still intent upon her. She tried to struggle, but precious oxygen was more focused on keeping her conscious.

“Well—Look, could you at least look at it before you go doing that? I'd hate to see you get blood on it.”

The chimera let out a cough of a noise as Loki stood and freed her throat by consequence. He swung the dagger between his hands as he approached, viewing his new cargo. “Is this the correct one?”

“Yes.”

“You are certain?”

“Look—”

“Because it is your head, if they vandals are displeased by an unsatisfactory job.”

The man's eyes widened slightly. “The what? You're giving it to—”

“Did I not mention that?” With seemingly one fluid motion, Loki mounted the horse rather than steering from the carriage's seat. Leaving the man to fish-mouth after him.

The chimera was forced to quickly rise fully from where she'd been only partially so, or be ran over by a wheel of the cart. Not to mention then be dragged by the tether that had again appeared around her neck.

Fine. There was her compromise.

If the pale green-eyed psychopath actually tried anything psychopathic or murderous, she would intervene.

At risk or not of her own detriment.

Murderous , insane conqueror...

But then, comes the cynical thought, following his cart like cattle on a lead, something between a cough a bark and a laugh escaping parted teeth, who was she to be calling anyone insane right now...

Chapter Text

He could have left her to die.

She trots along behind him, truly trotting as she lifted her paws high into the motion above the almost-daisies and lengthy grass. Finding she hated the way they tickled her underbelly, and sometimes caught in the fur there. At least their scent wasn't unbearable. The “tickling” against her nose had long since turned into “bashing” in how annoying they were. In how annoying her new height was now that these new circumstances presented themselves.

He could have come to Earth, accidentally scooped her up, and put her back regardless of her “ailment.” Out of his hair.

She by now believed—knew—enough in the aliens, and had seen enough CIA-FBI shows to put two-and-two together, and acknowledge that yes, Earth-Midgard probably had some sort of magic detection government achelon. (It was hilarious that she maybe had more proof of aliens than secret government organizations by now. Or, would be hilarious. Once this all...) Maybe not magic. Maybe whatever kind of science teleporting without the assistance of machines fell under. So maybe they Earthlings were able to do that by now. Detect the jump, trace it to Asgard, match it to Loki, blame him for the beast that was found cowering by a dumpster as it attempted to be nonthreatening and prayed the government agents who stormed it wouldn't kill it.

He could have released her, she thinks as she hops a small stream he just plowed through before her. Here. Dumped her into the wilderness “like the creature she had the unfortunancy of transforming herself into.” Same deal with matching magic from the teleport. But no evidence that he had actually done anything maybe.

By now if anyone wanted to report him to the space cops, they'd seen her with him. Whether they knew she was a person or not.

They hadn't stopped traveling since the morning again. And Loki showed no signs of slowing, branches above her snapping back where they'd caught against the carriage the horse still pulled. She ducked anyway reflexively, continuing to distract herself with the thoughts. Fatigue was finally setting in, though she did her best to hide the labored breathing. She was overheating, and she knew dogs' at least only means to cool themselves was to pant. So, probably her new body's at the moment. God, but...she was not going to give in to that one. Not yet.

Wherever they were, Loki was on his own feet walking, holding the horse by its reins. It was remote, a barely legible path surrounded by foliage or wisping fields of the overtall grass and almost-daisies. She wasn't sure she would know it if these flowers actually weren't something you could easily find on Earth. But personally she'd never seen anything like them.

Every now and then his hand would raise, be surrounded by magic for a moment at his twisting gesture that would quickly fade.

She had given up trying to figure out what his latest pursuit was with this, and was entertaining her thoughts.

Which she was beginning to dislike.

The possibility that she really was being helped balanced on the thin thread of his morality, was somehow worse than the other options. Scarier maybe.

How was she to dance around keeping his morality leaning towards good in the moral gray? Assuming—and why would she deny herself this out in this thought process, she doesn't know—she wasn't just a fluke speck of light-ish gray on his otherwise definitively bad-leaning compass. She wasn't a therapist. (Her mind firmly shoved away the word therapy pet. This wasn't going to become a thing, she scorns, dog comparisons...) She didn't know when to push for an epiphany and when to just leave something be for fear of falling back. See: her own damn life for reference.

See: the fact that she was still following around a royal murdering criminal, who definitely had the upperhand over her if he so chose to hurt—again—or use her, yet her main concern at the moment was how irritating the grass and flowers were on her belly. Really, trusting and following Loki had become less of a cause of anxiety by now and more of a morbid joke. Follow the thing that kills you. She was sure there was some kind of term for that. With the current record spinning, likely a psychology one. They two were already treading a line between captive and following. And then Stockholm and...whatever its opposite.

Internet. She missed internet. And the no-worries mind-numbing thoughtless pleasure leisure browsing times and moods it brought with it.

She'd begun to miss a lot of things she'd taken for granted back home, and back human. Miss them in the most cliche, “you don't know what you got until you lose it” kind of way. She'd resorted to pining for coffee at one point, when she'd gotten so deep into her self-distracting ponderings as to forget Loki was even there.

...Really, this all felt like those real stories where a lioness takes in an animal that would normally be prey for it.

She lets—makes? she doesn't know—herself laugh at that. The two of them physically in those roles.

Laughs doubly so when she remembers most of those stories don't end well.

Loki finally slows up ahead of her then stops. He's done so on the crest of a hill, and upon approach, the chimera can see that it is so steep a way down that it may as well just be a cliff.

She also sees, if the littering of rune etched roofs are anything to go by, that there's a village directly in front of them now.

At least in the middle of nowhere she hadn't had to worry about him trying to stab anyone. Again. Now...

She looks aside at Loki. He isn't moving. Staring down at the collection of small structures in what she'd come to recognize at this point in their travels as the face he involuntarily made when he was deep in analyzing something.

...Okay.

This goes on for long enough, intermitted once by his hand twisting the air with a trail of a glowing silhouettes of his fingers that makes her eyes feel cross for a moment, that she takes to enjoying that they've finally stopped instead. Seating herself with a noticeable berth between them. Back to her thoughts, analyzing of her own, to distract from the urge to pant. Passively noting the sound of a stream nearby, and the desire to go to it.

She was glad she had decided to take a break from college. Being flat broke had become tiresome, so she'd put it on hiatus to work as much as possible and build at least some cushion room in her bank account before she would have to become broke again. Wasting a student loan application because she was offworld would have been...

What other bills did she have to pay upon her return home, and how far would they dip into her bank account... Not everything was on autopay. She was certain that if her reversion to human began to hit the “months” mark—swallows down the bile at that thought and pretends it didn't occur to her—then she'd be scraping the bottom if she didn't have a job to return to. Her mail had to be starting a decent blockage even now. Mostly junk she couldn't seem to get to stop, or would occasionally afford her a practically free milkshake. Would the old lady who occasionally pecked over her be kind enough to pick up her mail? And not panic at her sudden disa—

“Do you trust me?”

She hadn't noticed his approach. He'd gotten within feet of the chimera without her notice. But that wasn't what startled her into a wary state.

Not when he'd led in with that question.

The passive look then smirk that slowly started to spread across his features, only serving to reinforce this of course.

Nothing about his face didn't say Rhetorical question, mortal.

So of course her mind reinforced the stern Hell no. that she couldn't say.

Not that it looked like he'd have given her the chance even if she could speak. He lunged for her.

Recoil back though she may have, hands like iron bands locked around her wrists far faster. The demigod spun on heel, and released at the end of the rotation.

Her back collided with a wall that hadn't been there a moment before. Once she'd recovered the breath that was knocked out of her she looked up to find them within the village.

And Loki charging at her again. Hands aglow with green flame, rearing one back...

She thrashed to her feet amongst the wooden rack of some sort that had been crushed with her impact and half snarled and stood her ground, half ran. Leading to an awkward sideways stumble through the dirt as she was torn between the two.

Hears the sounds of voices, not far and approaching, amidst the sound of splintering wood, and her heart pounding...

They'd only gone to a few more markets after her little rebellious interference. And resolution to continue doing so.

He hadn't given her too long to even consider going back on her internal word.

The next couple of market crawls had gone without incident.

The third, however, had Loki threatening the creature behind the stand he was leaning against.

Clearly her travel companion was either growing tired or impatient of negotiation at these places, or things had stopped going so smoothly his way. It was probably—maybe?—imperceptible to the people passing around them. But even from where she was still tethered to the wagon somewhat out of his reach, she could see the sheen of magic surrounding the alien man at Loki's mercy. His eyes were wide and locked on the fallen prince, trepidation clear on his vaguely agape grimace.

It was either imperceptible to the pedestrians around what was happening, or maybe they were just oblivious, or pretending not to notice. The chimera couldn't understand either way.

A bite to the tether only results in pain. So she did the only other thing she really could do.

Yowls and barks.

She'd paced almost a complete circle as she did. The horse stuttering a leg over the golden cord is mainly what stopped her. It was still pulling the cart, and while it would have been quite a spectacular interruption, she hadn't particularly wanted to damage any of the other merchants wares collaterally.

These places were generally busy with noise and activity from the ones she'd experienced. But she manages to garner a fair radius of attention.

As she continued the feeling of embarrassed anxiety weighs in the pit of her stomach as people began to stare. But she ignored it.

“Whose beast? Shut it up before I do it for you!”

Just as she'd been beginning to think this idea was stupid and ultimately, worse, would backfire, she saw Loki glare. Then raise a hand.

The tether tightened to air-constricting levels.

The chimera barely missed a beat. She didn't particularly hold the choking coughs back in volume. Chalked it up to worse than it was, wasting air in the process.

The merchant woman had come around the table. “How am I to sell my wares when this thing is making a spectacle?!”

The woman makes for the wagon, scanning it and finding no identifying markings. “Whose?!” She makes for the opening in the back.

Loki finally looked up. Or rather, down, with a sigh.

He'd made quick work of the trek to the stables.

“Dramatic..,” he'd tutted. He didn't at all look amused though.

He hadn't loosened the loop around her neck. Unamusement reinforced. She'd spent the next hour on the edge of consciousness.

The second time, the fourth market, he'd returned to the man's table once the merchant's attention was taken by the newcomer.

Casually, as if it had been his the entire time, Loki had lifted the tool from the table and dropped it into his satchel.

As he'd passed by her where she was a few stands down she'd managed her head into the bag before he could secure it. Fully intent on taking the angle-legs thing back to its rightful owner, as she was free of the tether.

Something bounced against her head barely a few steps into her task. She saw one of the fleshy colored plums—also apparently pilfered from the stand—bounce down and roll ahead in answer to what it was.

She'd probably just been lucky he hadn't taken it upon himself to actually try to do damage with the drupe. Ever so lightly bumping her head like a polite call for attention to the fact that he was about to commit a murder on her behalf. Oddly glowing multi-pointed, almost star-shaped dagger in one hand. Another plum at his mouth in the other.

The knife was small, and clearly weighted. And it was clear from the angle of his arm before even his small motion toward him who his intended former-owner target was.

...She'd considered if she would be crazy to call his bluff.

She'd considered if she was crazy to think his bluff a bluff.

Her teeth had subconsciously tightened a little around the almost-sextant. Eyes studying him. She'd missed being zombie dog during these parts if he'd done them...

Golden eyes were instantly taken from him as knife streaked through the air towards its intended target. She'd had a single instant to regret her hesitation, before—

The strike of impact's wooden thud is explained by the leg of the stand collapsing, tipping the box of fruit and allowing its contents to make rolling escapes.

She'd realized all of a sudden in the midst of calming herself that her jaws had reactively slacked with the attack. The tool wasn't there when she looked to the ground though. The chimera had looked up to Loki.

Who was already continuing on his way. Simply lifting free hand to his chest and gave a neat little beginning of a bow. Turning away with the beginnings of a smirk.

Of course he vanished. With seemingly the attention of none who were near enough to have seen, somehow. Intent upon the commotion caused by the vendor, shouting people away from trampling and bruising his wares.

And of course she'd spent almost the entirety of the rest of that day sniffing out the so-called Norse god of mischief. Catching his scent on the other side of the very, very large area just as she'd been settling on the idea that he'd truly left her behind this time.

It was after that that they'd ended up taking their trek to the village, quite in the middle of nowhere, with its “off the beaten path”-ness.

...The stream water was cool and soothing against the burn in her side.

She'd been here, lying down but with each paw firmly on the rocks, for long enough that she'd gotten her first odd sensation of skin pruning beneath the fur. Which, on now un-pain-addled hindsight, probably wasn't the best idea.

For starters, the nature of his inflicted injury. It was burning, but the fact that she'd only lost spots of fur in the small radius the pain told her was where she'd been hit... It was magic afterall. Maybe it wasn't even fire. Or maybe she'd just sentenced herself to losing a patch of skin. Sure the pain probably wouldn't have settled without the water's pressure running against it. Sure this was—she made a face for a moment when she realized. This was her first cleaning, even if impromptu, since she'd been swept to this world.

Why did skin prune anyway? She missed Google.

Her mind failed to soothe or distract her with an errant thought right now however. Her fur is heavy as she finally rises upon revisiting the thought that, given this world, this could very well be someone, maybe the village's, drinking stream.

The irritation at the weight of the water clinging to pelt is disproportionate. She knows. At least, from a certain stance. It's causation, it's fuel, but it's misdirected. Because she might not be in her body, but she's in good health. She thinks. Because she might not be home, might be trying to navigate a sociopaths mental bag of crazy, but she is alive.

Slippery slope arguments of “it could have been, could be, worse.” had rarely soothed her though, hardly much at all for her offworld circumstance.

So when she shakes, as a dog, she does so for far longer than necessary. And so hard, angrily, her head aches and spins for a few moments when she finally stops. Choosing to stomp her paws on the rocky outcropping of a cliff edge overlooking the village to dry them when she can see straight again.

She couldn't believe this. Couldn't. Yet she felt, she had no right to be surprised. She firmly refused to begin questioning his place on the morality compass again. Much less hers in relation.

There was no more room to be surprised. She was out of avenues of questioning for this to be a surprise.

But the tenuous truce she'd drawn with the idea that he had intention to fix her...

Trust him? Trust him, when she didn't even know what he was doing? Hadn't a clue to the details from the moment she'd been dropped into this world?

Trust him, when his only merit to the concept was that he hadn't completely abandoned her yet despite possible tries. Trust when he'd attacked her more than once now, this time, from what she'd seen down below in the time passed, for his own gain of favor from the village's inhabitants.

Trust, when he'd snarked the question himself.

The only avenue she knew to be even a chance at going back, at going home, was...

...

...Vaguely, she's aware of her claws making little, reflexive scratching motions at the ground.

She roars.

All her frustration, her loss for what to do, her emotion, pouring out through the barely conscience act. The chimera pulls the sound for at least a solid five long seconds, long enough for her to ponder if the shrill hoarseness of her voice is due to her disuse of her vocal chords or just the inhuman thing she was now. Long enough for her to realize she's just helping Loki to dehumanize her with the sound the village can surely hear, having been glaring down at it and not bothered to turn away. Hurting her own ears. But she doesn't care.

She takes deep huffing breaths of tepid earthy air as the echo of the sound dies down. Muscles tense and coiled. Distantly aware of her bared teeth. She would take time later to calm down.

Right now golden eyes pick up the door of a large, centric building opening.

Loki. Followed by a group of about five.

He scans the trees. They either do the same or watch him raptly.

She retreats cautiously from the line of sight.

Funny how a hero complex disappears and cedes to self-indulgence when there is less need than doubt.

So instead right now, she just turned to find Loki's carriage.

...and couldn't.

She stares at where she knows he left it for a long time. Even the horse. Even the horse was gone. Golden eyes quickly scan the ground for hoofprints. Wheel treading. Footprints.

She quickly finds herself with no leads. Even dog nose picks up nothing.

So then what...

Not at all expecting anything to come of it, but following the probable rules of the equally strange new world, she paws the air where it all had been.

She makes contact with something to her surprise. The wagon suddenly just, visible, as if it had been the whole time. The horse suddenly there too, looking down at her curiously. She has to fight to not double take.

Yeah. No more surprises here.

Shaking her head for a moment, the chimera moves to enter. Maybe there was something she could use. Something that would help her. She wasn't staying here.

Something repels her when she takes just one step before she can lift herself in. She stumbles backward, the invisible force pushing her back.

Not surprised.

But the flare of frustration is back when she tries again with the same results.

She allows the flare to find kindling and become anger. And she's attacking against the invisible barrier.

She only does it for a few moments before she's wary of herself. Pausing to have the grace to be worried about her actions.

Was this...? She makes herself calm down. Anger never helped her do anything but be rash. Even if it was justified...

Still, the feeling of being forced away is no longer on the edge of her senses. If ever there was time she could evidence there being a sixth sense of sorts, in this case she supposes it's magic, the light pressure just behind the bridge of her nose is evidence enough for her. She knows the magic is gone before she even steps too far forward from where it had acted on her in the first place.

Her steps aren't pushed away or stopped as she approaches the wagon this time and she's proven right.

There are no two ways about employing grace when you are a four-legged creature trying to jump into the back of a carriage, who's gate you can't release as you find yourself without opposable thumbs, and a head too short to really investigate the cargo even while standing propped on hind legs without climbing in.

Frankly, after that little repellent spell display, you were a little scared.

Just as the chimera's precariously balanced and reaching for the tarp however, a rustling in the brush stops her. A snap.

Her ears, like tiny satellites, work madly for the sound now as she turns. There had been the occasional breeze here, rustling the foliage making odd hollow noises as the natural occurrence disturbed them. But this, it was different. It definitely wasn't a natural, organic sound.

Just as she thinks the thought her eyes catch the source.

It might not look the same as Earth's rendition, but a bow and arrow is a bow and arrow.

The chimera yelps gracelessly and falls from the hindgate just the same. The thud of her body hitting the ground might have overlapped that of the arrow into the wood above her, but the force behind it is unmistakable from its volume.

Rolling swiftly to her feet she finds a young man crashing out of the brush holding the weapon she'd seen. Or rather, a boy. He's too short, pale cheeks messily framed by mousy hair too round.

A weapon he seems far too young to be wielding is nocked and aimed by his kneeling form. Leaning more crossbow than the bow and arrow she'd thought it to be. But the chimera's more focused on the silvery metallic pointed rod of ammunition he's about to guide down his sites.

God she hopes whatever she was wasn't part werewolf.

He fires again, and her heart skips a beat at having to guess his timing at such a close range in order to dodge accordingly and not be speared. But she uses the momentum she's started.

To kick dirt into his face.

Even if he hadn't been merely a child, hurting, or worse, killing someone wasn't on the docket for what she wanted to add to her moral mental toils right now. The second flit of anxiety comes at keeping herself from immediately turning away before she insured the questionably clumped and moist soil had fulfilled her intent.

The third comes when she hesitates a mere step into running away.

Maybe he was her opportunity.

This kid.

But how—

He is scrambling to load another bolt through intermittent tearing eye wipes, as she is unmovingly staring like an ignorant deer.

First things first.

She pumps her legs, making it to him much faster than she'd expected, her own four-legged speed disorienting herself. She nearly trips over herself, but manages to grip the weapon and pull it from his grasp. Letting her momentum slow to a stop enough paces away as to put herself between he and the bow that is now on the ground.

The silver that touches her face doesn't burn or anything else detrimental, so there's that.

She turns to look at him, but aside from his widened eyes, his expression is inscrutable.

Indicative though, as he stands, and morphs even his eyes to neutral.

Their eyes stay locked and they silent for a solid ten or so seconds. Then the chimera bows her head, ears back, and takes a cautious step towards him.

She thinks he's going to stand his ground, a wise move against most predators—Earth advice standing, as she takes a second, then a third step towards his unmoving form.

On the fourth step however, he turns tail and bolts.

Unsurprising. She'd been impressed by the kid's bravery to stand that long. She knew she wasn't exactly small; rather large in comparison to a child by now.

But he got merely a few steps before she ran behind him.

Because no. She needed him. Needed to gain his trust.

She cut off his path into the brush, head low, because she couldn't risk him reaching someone else, a group. And while he still thought she was a danger? One person would be hard enough to convince that she meant no harm, without overlapping opinions to get in the way.

And this was a child. Impressionable, trusting, at least on her world. That she had gotten such an opportunity, so soon into her resolve. She didn't dare let the chance pass.

So she, even while apologizing profusely in her head, rushed and cut him off again as he tried darting in yet another direction. Trying to portray her remorse on her features, even while hyper aware of listening for anyone approaching.

The third time she cuts him off from escaping his two yard area of confinement, the boy falls to his knees. Gaze fixed on her, expression back to incomprehensible.

He utters words she doesn't understand.

Crap.

She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't even thought to question how or why Loki knew English until this moment. Damnit, damnit... Probably a royalty, politic thing. Magic thing?

Well now she was pushing past wondering if this child even was a child, at the mental reoccurrence of aliens and magic.

Thinking, she sees his eyes go to his weapon. Still lying on the ground nearby. For a second she considers bringing it to him in a peace gesture. The idea doesn't last long as she remembers that you don't have to shoot the bolts to use them.

So instead, she lowers her head even lower, and begins her steps again.

He twitches, direction as if to get up and make for the bow. She bounds over cautiously, keeping her distance from him the same but placing herself between he and it again. Ears flattening even more. The boy's mouth goes ever so slightly agape, and he leans away.

Step. He leans a little more. Step. Step, step. He doesn't move.

A few more steps and she reaches him.

...well now what?

For a second, golden eyes just observe his eyes, which don't look away for a second.

...She sits, then stretches out her paws in front of him until she is laying there. He tenses. From the proximity the chimera can hear his heart pummeling.

God she wished she was just home, not trying to figure out how to get a literal alien who lived on another planet child's trust. Or wondering if or when a cross-planet dictator would be back to finish what he'd started.

She uses the initial desire as motivation. Rising just enough to inch forward and press her head between his slacked arm and hip.

If she gets some comfort out of this, she thinks as the boy's hand rises hesitantly, carding through the fur of her neck, that was just a bonus.

The boy laughs hesitantly as she takes the thought to heart and relaxes her weight against him.

Gaining more confidence, he brings his hands up, feeling her ears. The harsh thumping from his chest slowly starting to slow.

“Are you lost?”

The chimera subconsciously slumped even more. She'd understood that. Her relief was almost palpable. That made things a lot easier now.

She licks his face, resisting the urge to make a face as she tasted the...smell she'd been whiffing from him. Thankful that she had no lips with which to raspberry, as the knee-jerk reaction temptation had been strong.

As if licking someone's face hadn't already been something she didn't want to do. The chimera's head dips as she disguises wiping the taste onto her foreleg. Kids. Love them or hate them, getting into weird things and messes was a universal thing it seemed. Quite literally.

The child giggled as the chimera backed away. He seemed thoroughly relaxed now. Yes.

Making sure she had his eyes, she scratched at the ground. She attempted to draw a rune, like the ones she'd seen on a few of Loki's tomes.

Golden eyes watch his brow draw as she finishes. He looks up to her.

“What's that say?”

She gave a doubtful chuckle that didn't translate with her new vocal chords. Pats the ground next to her art while glancing up to him. Is entranced by her own pawprint, seeing it, really looking at it, for the first time.

“...Is it...magic?”

The chimera nods. Hopes that nodding is still a confirmation in this world. Claws continue to scratch delicately at the dirt. Hope bolstering. He was more interested in figuring out what she was writing and hadn't batted an eye at the fact that an errant creature could write. Maybe she was reading too much into it—this was a kid after all, but...

This world was weird.

She scratches out a crude stick figure, stares at him to make sure he understands the self-portrait. Gently stops him from trying to draw himself next. Then scratches out a stick figure next, then draws arrows. First picture to second, second to third.

“You want to be a person?”

Hurtful wording, she huffs a laugh internally.

Another arrow, looping third over to first.

The boy gasps. His age becomes painfully forefront at that, and she wonders where—why—someone would give him a crossbow, why he looked so focused with it—alone in the woods with it? Her eyes scan the forestry around them—

“You were a person?”

Well this was easy.

You know, after the whole attempted murder part.

She stood now. Waiting.

The child unsurprisingly stood too and crooned about “how cool” it was.

“Come on!” He runs ahead for a moment, then turns back to hook arms around her and drag her along.

It doesn't take more than a few moments to see he was leading her to the village.

Well this wasn't easy.

The chimera ducked out from his hold. Meets his surprised, disappointed look.

She sits to reinforce her resolve.

As the child grabs her and gently pulls, she weighs her options. Because of course the kid is from the village. That possibility—likelihood, hadn't occurred to her. She sighs, looking to the forest behind her. It wasn't as if it was clear he understood what she needed rather than just what had happened anyway.

“Prince Loki can help you!”

Now she jolts to a freeze.

After a moment, she stood and turned, presenting her side to him. Looking for a moment to make sure he saw.

She felt incredulity, reigning in a frustrated anger again.

She knows he doesn't understand, at his repeated response of, “He can help you.”

Still growls though. Turning away.

Okay. Did they already know him? Before today's encounter? Not well obviously.

She flexes her claws against the dirt. But she supposed that was just a consequence of royalty.

Or a manipulative—

She breathed. Slowly. Nope. No. There was the anger again. Think. Rationally. She had never been so easy to rile. But then again, the former human had never had so justifying of situations from which to accumulate stress.

Loki was quite the asshole, but she'd yet to see him do anything without reason.

...Even if that reason was to assert his sense of exemption from morality when it came to getting what he wanted, she thinks, tilting her head to stretch her sore neck for a moment. So maybe bad example.

Maybe they hadn't known. Him, or his criminal history. Maybe he needed the visual, ten second story to gain access.

Maybe she needed to stop justifying his actions. Her misfortunes.

Because maybe they had already known him and he'd known it but had taken the opportunity as another throat-step-choke, because her recent pushbacks. Or just to be an ass. Maybe she needed to ignore the hero complex and cut her losses before he did kill her, errantly, just because he could, when she stepped out of his erratic, chaotic lines. Maybe, it occurs to her for the first time, she'd be making this worse by staying. Because maybe, some of the things he's doing, threatening and stealing, really are to help her. Surely not all, but...

Hands grab her face. Teeth instantly sheathe. Words are spoken, the meaning of which she gathers only from the boy's concerned expression, as she hadn't understood otherwise. Again.

A cut short snarl of frustration, she hopes passes as a snort despite her momentarily re-bared fangs, as she pulls away.

Weighs her options again. And her luck for good measure.

Surveys the village, and carefully listens in for a few more moments. Smatterings of people, but only just.

Then turns away, and begins to walk. Because back to square one.

Or less than that, because at least with her less than ideal travel companion—she'd had an equally less than ideal maybe-way, but a way, to fix this. And to get home. A way to travel without looking like a dangerously roaming beast.

Things never really ended well for beasts in stories about beasts. That scorpion had killed itself by killing the frog. The huntsman killed the wolf to free the humans of that story. Even the goose gets killed. For laying the golden eggs. She hopes it's just her sour mood refusing to recall any optimism. A forepaw hits a pod that on Earth would have puffed out its fine powder into a smoke. Maybe later she'll be of mind to appreciate and wonder at the dandelion-like seeds, but more spiked, and yellow, that float away in its rolling wake.

Right now, she's just thinking how the tortoise and the hare one was a stupid story.

And how she's already allowed herself days of woe spiral. She attempts to stop its part two, to focus on the task at hand.

It'd always been a flaw of hers. Over-thinking things. So long thinking about a topic for an essay that it's due just the day after she settles, so long deciding on a new TV that the sale is over after she sleeps on it for a week.

She'd hoped he wouldn't, but of course the boy follows. In that awkward, not quite grown into their body clumsy way kids have. It would be an amusing contrast to the decent shot of a hunter she'd first encountered, were she not focused.

The former human doesn't know where to go or how. But, she thinks, if she just walks straight for long enough she'll come across something. And maybe, she thinks as they come across the boy's abandoned weapon and she picks it up and gives it to him. Manages to turn him in the direction of the village and gently butts the crown of her head into his back to push him along. Maybe she won't be killed by an errant “would-be warrior” along the way.

She let's him when he reaches pet her head one last time (still weird and vaguely condescending, but comforting) as the boy turns another concerned expression on her.

Then sprints away from him. She knows he can't keep up with her, but hopes he won't continue to follow. Even circled around at one point to ensure he hasn't tried. She trusts he knows the surrounding woods well enough either way, wondering alone as he'd been.

She'd walked far enough by now that the path had become less unbeaten and more so resembling a road. She followed it on its very edge so as to be in the grass, rather than leaving paw prints in the odd mixture of smooth, rounded stone mixed with sand that was the path itself. But she didn't stray from the road. Road meant people. At least it was her best shot. And people meant going somewhere. Other villages, markets. Settlings of any kind, really she didn't care, she just needed to weed out someone who seemed like they might give her a chance.

Only two people, not far apart timewise, had come across her thus far on this path—unbeknownst to them, as she'd hidden in the brush still framing the road in this area. Eyes following, examining, gauging them attentively until they'd passed. They'd both been carrying different weapons that looked capable of shooting, and she'd had her fill of that and being attacked in general today, thanks. The chimera had been lucky she'd noticed them before they'd noticed her.

The sun is just beginning to crest, and so places her bet that there won't be many if any at all more people out for too much longer.

So as she has slowly relaxed to the point her thoughts are just about to wonder, the sudden sound of wheels and hooves against the somewhat loose sand and stones is a surprise that somewhat jolts her.

She glances back.

And sees ebony horse and green garments, carriage still in tow.

The chimera hadn't given herself a chance to really see his expression, as her legs were already sending her into the brush at the first sign someone had been there at all.

Stupidly she knows now, pointless. But it was reflex by now.

Green eyes expectedly are already on her by the time he rides into view, as if she isn't even partially concealed. A part of her feels extra ridiculous at that. Another part, indignantly helpless. He dismounts and approaches the brush edge, and the mortal rises a bit where she has lain, pulling back in a readied stance with the rustle of disturbed foliage, letting out a none-too-discreet growl. She knows she looks like the animal in those moments as she lets its instincts take over.

“Come, mortal, don't be that way.” He smirked, so she was sure he knew what he was doing. That is, the purposely obnoxious thing. She'd only seen the expression a few times now, and already she was beyond tired of it... “Look, I even acquired something for you.”

Golden eyes—slitted, she'd noticed in her reflection during her time in the stream, and had pondered on how long her eyes had been that way, if they stayed like that—watched more than warily as he reached into his bag. Though he merely pulled out a book. Aging, darkened to show such, and with a strong, dank smell that hit her fast and strong to match.

The book is presented only just long enough for her to take a good look at it. For her to internally feel sudden guilt at not staying long enough to make sure he didn't or hadn't stabbed anyone in the village. Then he spins it on spine-edge on the tip of a finger, letting it fall artfully from the height into the readied satchel.

She hasn't moved, and turns her eye-narrowed look up to him now.

Loki just shrugs and turns, smirk still in place. Mounts his horse and continues on his way.

She watches him go for a long time.

Her weight feels so much heavier as she finally rises from her crouch. But she follows.

Chapter Text

Bread was suddenly in front of her jaws, landing atop her forelegs where she was laying when she promptly turned away instead of trusting enough.

She looked up to see Loki dropping coins into the vendor's hands upon catching her eyes. Her stomach had been putting on the performance since sunrise, so she's not surprised at the irritated look she catches.

Did Loki even sleep?

He'd only done it the one time in front of her, maybe twice. Glimpses of his face showed hardly any bags under his eyes. And he didn't seem sleep addled at all.

Of course, now it occurred to her, she herself wasn't overly drowsy. Well, hadn't been. Until now. Every time they stopped for long enough. She'd given up on just sitting once standing had become a danger to herself, and now had resorted to just completely laying down, finding she could definitely embarrassingly topple over in any other position. There wasn't really a way to tell if her sleep requirement had changed, or if it was just the constant travel. Until they stopped doing so much traveling, that is.

Her stomach, on the other hand, was more definitive. Even with so much activity, traveling, only just now was she starting to get faintly lightheaded.

And her stomach was loud, apparently.

Seeing him pay for the food has the intended effect of being sating either way. She couldn't bring herself to pander over the offering, just biting into it before he could move on. The flat bread loaf had a slightly bitter aftertaste. Probably courtesy of the sun-dried berries it contained, ironically providing a contrasting occasion of a sweet taste. But she finished the entire thing regardless. Forcing herself to eat slowly, slow enough at least so as to keep down the increasing objection of her stomach when she ate too quickly.

Bitter aftertaste aside, it wasn't overly bad. Her stomach still didn't seem to agree, and her lightheadedness lessened to just background noise. Between that and her still sleep-weighted eyes, she felt better, but not good.

She probably needed meat, it occurred to her eventually. New body and all.

Hunting was probably an option. He left her often enough.

Well, it's an option for a second. Until the thought of having to kill things occurred to her. Kill things with her teeth. The thought of blood, blood into her mouth.., fresh from something dying there, put that thought to rest quickly. Maybe she could've gotten past that, except bloody, raw meat that she couldn't even chew enough with newly set non-human jaws to imagine the texture as anything else...

Ironically, she had always liked camping, the few times she'd gotten to do it. Mostly childhood.

Most other areas, though, and she firmly preferred her twenty-first century amenities. And canned goods and marshmallows had always been the only thing gracing her “survival kit” even then.

First-world problems.

She could cook the meat. Somehow. She supposed. A fire couldn't be that hard.

With four legs, no thumbs, no longer in the middle of the woods...

She sighs.

Her stomach churns as they're leaving the markets, and she lurches forward for a moment. Borderline belch quietly from her throat.

She catches Loki's eyes on her in her peripheral once she's recovered. The chimera doesn't acknowledge him.

Her stomach whines again.

His turn to sigh.

It's some time of walking before he teleports them elsewhere. It's been awhile since he's done this. Still, it had been so frequent those first few days, that she'd practically subconsciously developed something of a challenge with herself. The chimera still failed; she still couldn't ever seem to keep her eyes open during their second of traveling through space-time.

After a bit more walking, she could only assume they had arrived at a tavern of some sort. The atmosphere was quaintly rustic, and admittedly inviting. But the air was unmistakeably hinted with the smell of alcohol.

It neither, however, was objectionable. The gentle aroma was the perfect warmth to complement the soft lighting of the place. The fermented berry aroma was unmistakeable, topped with a spice of some kind that she couldn't identify. As said, the place she worked had such nights where off menu beverages were served. One such night had produced mead. But this smell, it wasn't quite like it. Not quite the difference between a homecooked meal and a TV dinner. But somewhere in there.

She still couldn't decide what was worse: sitting on the floor like an animal, or sitting at the table like some bizarre parlor trick her travel companion was performing.

She'd even debated going to stay in the stables once it was made clear that Loki had intention to stay in the tavern for more than the usual short stops he'd taken to limiting their other stops to, and hadn't procured a room. The remembrance that he'd been more loose about keeping up with her whereabouts stops her however. She didn't want to let him out of her sight for a while.

For now though, the former human had settled herself onto the floor. There was no room to curl up for a nap up there anyway...

Loki was reading the aged book from the village where he was kicked back at the smoothed wooden table at least. So that was something.

The wood of the floor is surprisingly smooth and sturdy too. No give, or hollow sound to it at all. It was a pleasant surprise to find once she'd brushed clean the area beneath the table of of dirt.

But as she lays down...

Was that a tooth? Just laying on the floor in the dirt beneath a nearby table?

...yeah, that's a tooth.

The chimera curls into herself a little tighter, making a face as she closed her eyes a little tightly and tried to forget.

Just a little longer. Just a little longer and you'll be back to normal, you'll be home... She didn't know if it was true, but there was no—just as much and just as little, justification that it was true, so she held on to it...

“You're not laying it on at all with the disguise. A lack of gaudy embellishments alone hardly does anything.”

Just as sleep is almost upon her, she groggily hears a voice that was unfamiliar. From her angle she sees the addressed fugitive prince spreads his arms. “Good way to tell my allies from enemies.”

The newcomer man huffs, reaching and pulling back holding the bowl from the table. “We're no allies. I just want no trouble from you, you hear?”

Loki kicks back, picking tome and cup back up, head still turned to the man.

Appending, “From apathetics,” grin in his voice.

She hears the man grunt. “Start trouble and I'll start a wager on you: How long until the hound guards catch you in their jaws.”

Loki feigns interest with a hum through his drink. “I'd take that bet. 'D be a quick guerdon.”

A gruff noise from the other. He confirms her inkling that he is the barkeep as he retreats behind said bar.

Blearily, she watches him curiously for a few minutes when he pushes back through a door behind the bar and reemerges. The burly, goatee'd man deposits the shallow bucket of berries into the large wooden barrel, steam escaping as he takes a large wooden press to the contents. The girthy bubbling is followed by the sharp tangy scent of the spiced berries.

It's peaceful for a minute of hissing foam, and she's almost comfortable with his introduced awareness of them to get back to attempting sleep. But then—

“You're going to make me ask about the animal? Or don't you remember?”

“You tell her off then.”

She tenses slightly at the man's question. But at Loki's nonchalant retort, she becomes almost amused in the back of her mind by what she imagines has become of the man's expression, given the silence that follows the admittedly a little odd response. Given the perceived context. The tense muscles are back though when she hears his boots but can't find the man. But after a few minutes, it's clear there's no followup to be had, and she makes herself relax. Not hard, as she fully intends on that nap...

Trying to ignore the still present tooth mocking her nearby, curling up tightly beneath Loki's table. Firmly pretending with eyes closed that the rest of the floor she hadn't attempted to sweep as it hadn't been her future napping spot was just as clean as the floor felt smooth. Not too hard to imagine, as in reality, it actually was overall fairly clean.

Tooth aside, it was pretty nice here.

There were worse places he could have stopped. Even lying on the floor, she felt herself starting to drift in their respite.

Or, again, she would have.

Loki hadn't chosen a small table. Looking around, there didn't seem to be seating for less than six per table, granted. Still, this led to problems.

For some time after they'd arrived there'd been only a few other occupants of the tavern. Smattered about in the then-ample seating.

But then what apparently equaled the lunch hour rolled around. It wasn't an overly small place, but it wasn't large enough that it took more than around what couldn't have been more than a half hour for the patrons to fill it nearly to capacity.

The fact that Loki had claimed seating that wasn't too close to the bar probably should have helped. But some had braved sitting at his table anyway. The chimera wondered from her spot beneath it if he had taken up a disguise again. Regardless, from what she could tell, no one was reacting to him. Between the book and the Loki she so far knew, she doubted he was giving off a “come talk to me” vibe regardless of what face he expressed it with...

Still, sit they did. And this led to most stepping on or otherwise kicking her. Seating for six didn't exactly allow much room at rectangular tables. With Loki present, even less. Room for her on the floor, if it wasn't the case above. So even less room for the newcomers feet beneath it.

After the surprise of the sudden boots the first time, she tries to dodge whenever she notices incoming. With admittedly little success, she is torn between sleep and the desire not to be stepped on or noticed. And they notice. Every time they feel themselves step on something soft and malleable, they look underneath to see what their foot has met. Often the second or third time it has met

They are greeted with eyes that practically glow in their color's stark contrast to the slim light beneath the table.

Needless to say this comes as quite the surprise every time to those who see this. The first man and second group quickly standing, one even pratfalling.

Loki snorts quietly every time this happens. She's more annoyed by it once she hears him.

The fourth to try was a group that hadn't been put off by her presence. Of course, they'd also been rowdy and obnoxious the entire time they were seated. Despite the fact that she only smelled alcohol on the breath of one. The third time they try to feed her scraps after she tries avoidance then even a low growl with teeth is when her reluctance depletes and she extricates herself from beneath the table. Sitting on the floor at its corner, with her back to Loki. In her state she'd forgotten to look and see if he was just as annoyed as she by this group by now. She assumed so however, so took justice from his snickering in that.

He's apparently back to amused at that their departure however. A minute after, a pair of men had seated themselves at their table, for once just so, so that neither of their feet were close enough to kick her or the like. Of course it'd been going too well, so of course something falls from the tabletop to join her below it.

It wasn't helped that the chosen decoy to fall was a dagger.

It also wasn't helped that the reactions to seeing her were part startled fear, part disgust this time as they recoil their seats and leave the table.

The fall had been almost a little too convenient.

Loki laughs quietly.

The chimera had turned and sat up enough to see him. He'd quirked a brow, the barest hint of amusement on his features.

He's still reading the book. Which she wonders if is his point by not looking to her. So she let's it go and ignores him, settling back into her spot.

She'd tried edging herself just slightly out from under the table, sticking out just enough on Loki's side of it so that anyone who sat on the side opposite wouldn't notice her with their foot.

It didn't take long for the barkeep to pass by, noticing her before he could have the chance to trip. She'd simply responded to his scolding grumble with a passive noise of the same mellow tambre. To which he'd stepped over her and continued on his way.

Shortly after, someone had passed by and not done as well at stepping over her.

Instead, stepping right onto her tail.

The former human hadn't really ever considered any feeling through her tail.

But she'd definitely been unable to hold back the surprised vocalization, then completely new guttural noise overlayed with a hiss as she turned on the tail-stepper.

They'd fallen over themselves with surprised noises of their own and retreated to the complete opposite side of the room. Trying to save face as they seated themselves in a more casual manner.

The chimera was sure how hard she had hit her head on the underside of the seat in her reflexive haste to face the perpetrators would be a regretful pain later. But for now, it was nothing compared to the agony of her spinal appendage that she curled in to turn and nurse.

She had the habit of forgetting she even had the thing now. But with this pain, she wasn't sure she would again. Like what it must feel like to have someone step on her spine. But thin, unprotected, and oddly out-of-body. The new appendage had grown slightly thicker and fuller since that first day, so she no longer looked like an overgrown squirrel, she noticed. Including the barbs tucked into the fur, some of which had snapped with the lead-footed passerby.

She made sure she was facing away from Loki as her eyes watered in pain.

But cursed and damned him in every way she knew in her head.

“Don't have your beast scaring away my coin.”

Great.

She barely holds back a whine in a throaty exhale, gingerly prodding her tail with nose as she was.

“Well if they want the actual experience they all claim to have had...”

“That's what the ale is for. You're doing me no favors.”

“I've caused you no trouble today,” Loki dismisses, almost playfully.

“Yet,” she hears the barkeep. “No trouble yet. Your very presence alone.”

Loki clips an almost petulant groan and sighs at the same time, and she sees him fall back in his seat some.

“Oh the faith of such bleeding hearts, unwavering...”

“Arrogance.” The man's shadow points. “Underestimation is why you bother me.”

There's a snort above her. “Fine. I'll pretend.”

The shadow wrings it's hands clean in a rag. “That's probably the best I'm going to get from you right now. So thank you.” He leans, and she hears the tap of something being put onto the table. The chimera exits her hiding spot again as someone else sits at the end of the table. Putting pressure on her tail between the floor and a paw. She pretends not to notice the barkeep still standing beside Loki. Though she discreetly examines him in her peripheral. All brawn and muscle if not quite as tall in stature as Loki, a leather bracing around the torso of the tower of a man.

“If you want my immediate favor...”

Loki raises a brow and looks to him when he doesn't continue. She watches as the man gestures. They both follow his indication.

There's a man whose upper half is draped across table he is seated at. A goblet is toppled next to him, but he doesn't seem to mind napping in it's spilled contents.

Loki snorts.

“Does he still have that immunity?”

“I don't pretend familial truces are always remaining beneficial,” the man huffs.

Loki rises delicately. “Fine,” he says just the same. “If it will make you stop hovering.”

Golden eyes follow him raptly. But her view is abruptly blocked when he's a mere few steps from the table. The barkeep, leaning down as he sets something on the floor before her.

It appears to be the torso of some creature, small creature, rounded by the twining woven into a netting around it.

She looks up at him from the wood plate questioningly. He reaches with the small shiv in his hand, cutting the netting free hardly before she can tense.

“You're a little too aware for my liking, for a beast. I don't want any curses or the like befalling my place because I was snarky about you.”

...She's not sure how to respond to that.

So instead, she lowers her head. Eyes still on him as she scents the alien meat. It's still warm, she notes as he nods and departs. She doubts it's poisoned or anything, given the factors of the situation. Plus, her rumbling stomach, suddenly salivating mouth, weakly shaking form will hardly allow her not to eat it at this point...

She tries to be somewhat demure about it. Holding down the meat securely with the side of a paw. It's really really harder once she gets through the first tentative swallows of the surprisingly tender meat. Starting to realize as the first morsels of food hit her stomach just how ravenously hungry she is.

She manages to control herself though, and the chimera is still eating by the time Loki reappears a few minutes later to eye the meat, her, then the barkeep with a quirked brow. Who simply shakes his head. A quick momentary raise of his entire brow and Loki doesn't address the subject. Reseating himself and kicking back again. She forgets her hunger for a moment to glance to the man it had made her forget. Who is nowhere to be seen, a spotted puddle dripping from the tables edge the only hint that he had been there. The lull after golden eyes spend a minute looking around from her place for the man doesn't last. “Are you waiting for the hunt?”

She'd gone back to eying the bones of the thing that she'd taken careful measures not to chew up with the meat, extracting them as she'd gotten to them. The fact that the creature still had all it's innards was a surprise she somehow hadn't expected, but she'd eaten them despite her reluctance. But the bones...

Yeah, that wasn't an instinct she was going to give into yet either. She ignored her stomach, and only partially the desire to figure out how to ask for water. Letting herself lick the side of her paw clean of grease at the very least.

From the table above her, Loki hesitates just the slightest.

“The what?” he deigns.

“Don't play me a fool.” The barkeep is casual, hardly missing a beat. His tone implied, despite how nonchalant, he didn't buy Loki's nonchalance on the subject for a moment. “The stars may travel but a bit further, but the hunt's timing is around the same as always.”

The chimera can see the thickly facial haired man from her place, and he raises a finger. “You alighted here long and often enough that you'd committed to memory who frequented when so that you could be in peace. You've got the memory of an old haggard vala when it comes to these things. At least don't insult me.”

Apparently stopping Loki from saying something. She's surprised when he responds now, without hostilty.

“...hm. Well met,” he dismisses almost teasingly. She can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “You would speak of the Norns with such dissent?” Almost even a chuckle.

“I never said Norns.”

“The description was quite decisive.”

The barkeep points. For the first time, she sees the corner of his lip quirk just the slightest. Gone almost just as quickly.

“You made the connection. Not me.” He lowers the finger and rests balled hands onto the bar. “The Grim Axe?”

A sigh of relent above her with the tap of a cup being set down. “When are they due these days? It can't possibly take them too much longer to stumble over themselves.”

The man was moving from the bar to the hearth. Picking up a slim log resting next to it. Surprise intrudes her expression as it's cracked in half over a leg. “They've actually changed their day. Migration of wolves scared the game a little farther west. Longer trek.”

She hears an unhappy huff.

After a few minutes of another lull that follows the man commenting passively that he supposes Loki wouldn't hint at why he waited, Loki brushing him off in confirmation, she finally manages to fall asleep. Especially now, with no more feet to avoid. She's not sure how long for, until she faintly hears Loki setting down his cup. Then the more distinct noise of he pushing and standing from the table.

“I'll attend to other matters then, whilst I wait for their return. If they manage.” Loki lifts a hand, and she hears coins drop from it when the barkeep raises his hand to receive the offering. He turns back towards the table as he is far enough away to see her, making eye contact.

“Come.”

She growls even as she rises, not completely sure if he meant the speaking to her like a dog implication, as he has already turned away to continue walking across the room. The chimera wouldn't at all put it past him. The barkeep watches her as she makes after him, and she spares the man a glance on her way.

Loki takes them up a stairway somewhat hidden by a partial wall. Absently she notes that even the stairs are fairly solid, smoothed wood having no give at all, and the faintest noise of a hollow within them rather than the creaking and thudding she'd been expecting. At the top was the small hallway of doors she'd expected. He leads her through one of them.

His things are somehow already there. Though she wonders as she sees him mildly give an almost beckoning gesture at the desk, only for a stack of familiar by now books to appear there. He deposits the village book he is still carrying in the midst of them, flipping with purpose to a page apparently in mind.

She sits expectantly in the corner. It's only a minute before he turns to her.

Part two then.

Again what follows is a series of apparently unsuccessful spells for a while. But, it's not long into this, that she sees his lips muttering but hears nothing but whispers of breath, and he gestures toward her. She feels nothing from that, whatever he'd done. And something in his expression changes. He does the muttering and motion again, and when she again feels nothing on top of nothing happening, his countenance is more refined in a mix of intrigue and confusion.

Setting down the book, he makes a different gesture in the air, not unlike he is pulling a thread with three fingers.

That does cause a feeling. Like a short, mild tug, somewhere between her stomach and where her ribs met.

The chimera looks down to herself, watching for any changes. The faint sound of he approaching her makes her stop.

He's come halfway across the room to standing almost in front of her now, and repeats the twisting pull gesture with his hand, watching her closely.

He came yet another step closer. Intrigued, by his expression.

“Your magic is protecting you from mine. Of course... Or, that magic, rather. It's not yours to keep...” The gesture again. Absently, as he watched her almost distantly.

She watched him, almost warily. Still staring at her where he'd paused and frozen, his hands slowly lifted. “Try, if you can, to shift your form. ...—It's not exactly something I can explain to you. I wouldn't know how to put it into words a mortal would understand,” he answered the look she gave.”

After a moment and a sigh she closed her eyes, concentrating. He had a point. A mildly condescending point, but a point. Plus, the fact that he had pursued this idea at all had to be a good sign. So...

She focused on where she had felt the pull. A physical sensation, yet not. Enough of an odd feeling, that it seemed like a decent place to start. Almost as if feeling around in the dark, she eventually found the focus of the pull again. Then tried ways to manipulate it. It almost felt as if she was trying to lift something of the feeling it had felt as if he'd pulled. Too immovable, maybe heavy for her to do much more than she already was, until—

Suddenly, with a twist of his hand, there appeared in the chimera's place a young woman, falling back in surprise from her crouch.

After a long period of silent shock, and staring at her hands, not quite closed mouth expression turned up to the demigod. Who slowly smirked.

“Welcome back, mortal.”

She too stunned to do anything other than stare at Loki. Surprise evident on her features. Seemingly a whim had fixed a problem his tomes hadn't been able to for a month. Wasn't that always the way...

The human immediately regrets spending those precious seconds in shock, for just as soon as she finally looks down at herself, hardly before she can fully feel the relief that she is human again (and still somehow wearing her clothes, thank everything), the hands before her turn back to paws, and she is instead startled by the now painful position her just crosslegged leg is experiencing as she tries to right it to a comfortable position for the cursed form.

Once that's settled, she looks back up at Loki. The chimera again.

His expression is a deadpan.

“Well, shit.”

Chapter Text

Loki had spent the rest of the afternoon on the predicament. Assisting her shift back and forth and back and then trying ways to keep her that way, so many times that she'd become exhausted, from the new “sixth sense” way she hadn't known was possible. Staring intensely at the chimera for so long that it became intensely unsettling. Holding his magic around her that she was definitely aware of now that it became equally uncomfortable.

At one point whilst she was in human form, he'd risen and gone rifling through the contents of the trunk at the foot of the bed. He'd approached her and pushed the stone he'd extricated into her hand. Then, backed away, watching her closely as she felt his magic dissipate.

She couldn't help but to do the same. Staring down at her hands still at her sides, her legs, feet. Any sign of a shift.

Nothing happened, even after a long while. Long enough that it definitively breaks the fifteen-seconds-human-again record she'd mentally took note of. Definitively enough that it's nearly been an entire minute.

While she decided whether to feel relief or detriment at the fact that the only thing probably keeping her like this was essentially a rock in her hand, she looked up to Loki.

Who, giving points to the detriment side, looked wholly more annoyed than anything as he turned away.

He sat heavily at the escritoire, pulling a few of the multitude of books he'd opened in the hours passed toward him as he slipped a bit of paper out of another. She watched as he scribbled quickly, eyes on the book's lines that his finger was tracing.

It's long enough after that she'd sank down to sit against the wall, pondering how the only thing worse for wear right now seemed to be her hair, clothes stained in noticeable dirt too, when the stone fissures in her hand.

The young woman is startled enough that she nearly drops the cracked pieces. She hadn't even been gripping it very hard, had she? She thinks as it slowly continues to crumble into a fine powder, definitely not that hard.

“Uh...”

Loki turns his head to her.

She realizes later that that was her kind of first ever word to him. Because of course.

She can't very well keep all of such fine powder all in her hand, watching as some of it escapes to her leg, the floor, despite her best efforts.

Loki sighs, loudly enough that she notices his eyes are still on her. Even as he, pointedly, crosses out an entire part of what he'd been writing.

His expression doesn't change from the irritated deadpan as he turns back to his continued writing. Seemingly unsurprised in the next minute when she is back to being the chimera, as he barely gives the shift a glance.

He rises shortly after as she's examining the print of dust she's made on the floor, folding the parchment swiftly and neatly and tucking it into his tunic as he makes for the door. More so out of reflex rather than thought, she follows him out.

“Stay here,” he says when he reaches the foyer, half turning to her as he makes his way to the door.

“Wait— You're just going to leave me with—?”

The door closes on the barkeep's words.

Still, Barkeep huffs then looks to the chimera where she is standing. Just as confused as he.

She was half tempted to follow despite his command of course. Because, none of the probable reasons he would leave her behind were good.

But she remembers his transport spells. Sighs, even though she still for some reason bothers to poke her head through the door outside to confirm that he is, indeed, gone. No sight of him in any direction.

Instead, she retreats inside and looks to the man staring from behind the bar. Thinking how to endear her intent of no ill will, she lilts her head.

He just huffs again, turning back to his work.

She thinks on turning and making her way back up to the room.

But the step closer to getting back home, she realizes introspectively now, has relaxed her. She's suddenly curious enough to wonder what this world is like without the filter of Loki. So she stays front of house instead.

It's relatively empty given the hour, perhaps bolstering her. She walks over and, carefully, scales a stool at the bar, balancing herself precariously and sitting. She really had grown a little larger alongside her still seemingly settling shift in the time she'd been here... The chimera hadn't anticipated barely having room.

The barkeep's eyes are on her from his place replacing steins behind the counter. She just leans forward—again, unexpectedly farther than she'd anticipated having to—, resting her head on the surface.

He sighs as he turns back to his work, gruffly adding, “I don't, want, to know,” on the tail end. Quietly, so perhaps to himself.

She stays awake for long enough that the hearth has warmed her fur, even from the distance of the other side of the bar. That Loki hasn't returned by that time is a little troubling. Again, given all the reasons she can think for him to have left her behind. But there's nothing she can do about it, so after at least going to check the room that his stuff is there, finding it locked, she tries to regain her earlier peace in order to at least sleep and regain her energy.

She's awakened some time later to the sound of a thud against the bar. She's sluggish opening her eyes. Being met with a burly woman, her fist balled on the counter.

“Alright there?” the barkeep walks over. Between his hands he's stretching what looked to be leather.

She answers “Aye,” and gives a terse apology. A minute later rising with still distant eyes as she left.

Barkeep clears his throat.

She looks up at him to find him looking at her.

He glances, meaningfully, to the fallen scraps on the floor a few seats from where the woman had been, then back to her.

She makes something of a face, quirking what she could of a brow at him in return. Definitely not moving.

He shakes his head. “I thought not,” he says, making for the broom. Well, broom, but instead of bristles, there were thin, metal protrusions. “Leave it to him to bring a creature like you around.”

Her tail flicks in irritation, a few times once he notices as he gathers the mess. Trying to make herself look a bit predatory, leaning slightly as if about to get up from her lazy slump in order to pounce.

The man knows better by now however. He doesn't become wary in the slightest. “Don't give me that. You know it's true.”

The chimera doesn't think they are having the same argument. Namely, she's becoming tired of being called “creature.”

She withdraws her tail, wrapping it loosely around a foreleg as she slumped back fully against the bar.

More time passes.

She'd be lying if she said even after a near month, it didn't still surprise her sometimes to reach for something only to see a paw on the end of her arm.

Still, human habits die hard, and when she notices the calico'd cat peek out from its hiding, she coos at it softly after staring at it for long enough. Only really realizing her fixation on the cat and human-through-not-human actions after seeing the barkeep turn to give her a look as if she insane. She could feel the embarrassment in the straining of her ears to aside, the blood rushing providing white noise.

Still, she's found something to occupy herself, and isn't assuaged for more than a few minutes. When the cat peeks out from behind a jar in the nooks above the bar again, she locks her attention to it. Cocking her head and flattening her ears disarmingly when it looks at her in hopes of luring it down.

Even more time passes.

It's a relatively quiet morning overall.

There are no windows in this place, she'd noticed. Her only inkling of time passing is the changing level of intensity of light coming through the door as people enter and exit.

As has become apparently the norm here, she's unable to sleep, after what couldn't have been more than an hour or two. Much less focus on the cat. This time, for Loki's continued lack of presence. Barely able to draw her gaze back from the door. Barely able to keep from wondering, worrying... What he was doing, with her out of the way.

The barkeep presents an unexpected distraction once it's long enough that she has become additionally anxious about if he'll even bother to come back, appearing with a “Try this,” as he sets a flat circle of wood with another cooked meat on it next to her head. A dark liquid is escaping from it, which for a moment makes it even more disconcerting before she notices the scent of berries.

Honestly still hungry—she knew Loki had to know she needed to eat. Whether or not he cared or remembered or bothered were different matters.—she bites into the dish. Going along with his request by tasting thoughtfully before swallowing, delivering a verdict of extracting just the tip of her tongue between clenched teeth, wrinkling her muzzle.

The man snorts, pushing that dish aside over the grooved surface to present her with another. This one isn't quite as odd on her tastebuds, a near sun-dried tomato or its alien cousin in the middle of it. She finishes it in three, pulling-from-bone bites, then nudges the wooden platter away from her resting spot with her nose to plop her head back down.

“Wager that one got more favor?”

She reaches and nibbled at the first abandoned test food, without raising her head.

He comments on her oddity again but she doesn't really pay him any mind. Staring at the door again.

Not long after, but long enough that the hearth has nearly gone out from the day's first wood fueling, the large bowl near her head that the man emptied scraps from otherwise eaten plates is full enough to be taken out somewhere. The cat had merowed at him loudly, drawing the chimera's attention to the fact that he was picking it up at all as it watched him go around a corner to what must have been a back exit from the sudden moments of light. The cat's tail flicking as it stared after him even then in what appeared to be discontent. Vaguely it registers that, given how close it had been to her, and given his earlier nod at the floor, maybe he'd expected the same scrap interest out of her.

The thought just makes her watch even more attentively for Loki and her hopeful cure through the intermittently entering. Exhausted of being “an animal.”

Most people who'd entered had been too asleep to really give the chimera sitting at the bar watching its keep more than a moment's look. At least she'd thought so, but now people entering since the light of midday were behaving much the same, despite not looking quite as exhausted. Perhaps it was the barkeep's lack of concern about his currently non-human patron that put them at ease. Still, to say that she wasn't getting any curious, much less nervous looks, at all was inaccurate.

Absently she tries to lift the non-physical weight in her core again. Having just as little success as the last time. Before what must have been Loki's help.

Her claws nick absently at the wood of the stool as she flexes them throughout a minute.

Finally, when the daylight had started to wane, Loki comes back.

She sits up when she sees him. He enters with a small sack thrown over his shoulder, lumpily weighted with its contents. His long strides eating the distance with a casual air as he makes his way past tables towards them.

The barkeep eyes him. “Do I want to know?”

Loki returns the question, with a smile that can only be described as mischievous below otherwise impartial eyes.

“Do you want to know?”

“No. Not particularly. Though you bring whatever follows into my own.”

Loki, who may or may not be still listening, makes his way past them and up the stairs into the room. Before she can make the stairs he's already turned back out sans bag. Locking the door and trotting past her back down. Breezing the foreign scents into her nose. Intermingled with an earthy scent and, worryingly, introducing the smell of the paved inner-city again.

He seats himself on the stool next to hers, she scaling back up onto it despite this. Staring at him.

Barkeep stares too. Probably because the newly-arrived Loki has a slight, though definitely perceptible, almost crazed gleam in his eye. That's why she couldn't help but to keep him locked in her gaze, at least.

“...what?”

The barkeep just continues to stare, stoic arms across his chest.

Loki's look levels slightly, watching the other. “...your buffoons are arriving.”

“I'm aware of the hour,” says Barkeep, still staring. At this point the chimera switches from contributing to glancing between them.

They continue to stare.

Loki's, expectedly, slowly starting to harden in challenge. Though Barkeep's is unchanged and unassuaged despite this.

She shifts uncomfortably on her seat.

The door bursts open. She only just doesn't flinch at the sudden noise and burst of crisp air from the outside, and that was only because she was already used to the ruckus that was someone entering.

As they near the bar, she looks away from the staring contest enough to get a good look at the man at the lead of the group.

Tall, muscle bound while still of an average build. Close-shaven goatee beneath red with windburn cheeks and hair that doesn't quite touch his shoulders where Loki's rests, though she can't tell if that's due to the gnarls and noticeable foliage in the dark brown strands. Armored lightly in leathers and wrapped in fur, presumably of the boar whose head he wore as decoration on his shoulder.

The man holds up a hand as if to call for something from the barkeep, whom he looks towards. “Ivar! We—...” Eyes land on Loki, then his composure slowly melts. Hands sinking to his sides as he stops where he's still a few meters away.

“Oh. You.”

She glances to see Loki is looking at him, and lifting his chin. “You could sound more excited,” he responds blithely. The feeling didn't seem echoed though, as the other man grimaced some.

One of the men in the group, the one who she presumed could be the leader's right, steps forward to be at his side. Glancing between he and Loki.

“Who's this?” He steps forward more. “Bounty?”

Loki gives a quiet, clearly mocking now laugh. “You've some bright ones among your ranks now I see.”

“And you've a—...dog,” the man replies with halting cadence, eyes going to her. She doesn't lift her head where she has returned her chin flat against the bar. Ignoring the yet more fuel onto the fire that was her irritation at being called “creature” and the like. Simply gives a noncomittal, deliberate slow blink, and no other reaction.

The lead man's attention is back on Loki, muttering, “You can't always trust what you hear of palace hearsay..,” eying Loki up and down. She counts about nine that had entered. Ten even, if the leader was included. All human. Or, Asgardian, however it worked. He holds a hand to one of his rank's chest as the other tries to push past him. “You don't wanna do that,” he stands him down, more exasperated nonchalance than warning, chin turning just barely. Then he speaks to Loki again.

“They can kill wild beasts, it's all we need and set out to do.”

Lead man and group set off to the nearest set of tables. This leads the scorned man he'd stopped, not following, still standing there, to give a disbelieving look towards the group.

He receives a headshake in return. “Oh no, you come back when you've finished pissing the rest of your ego. I'll pass.”

The man, slightly shorter but still all muscle, seemed to take that as permission. He makes short work of stomping over to them at the bar. Loki doesn't move an inch, lips still smiling lightly.

The man slams a knife, tip first, into the table.

She reacts reflexively. Growling for a moment. And sitting up now, though the knife hadn't been anywhere near her.

The newcomer's eyes go to the chimera. Glancing back to Loki.

“What's this? Guard dog?”

She doesn't know what to do at that. Loki simply laughs abrasively for a quiet moment.

“Get up! I can't knock you to the floor properly if your arse is otherwise engaged!”

Loki has stood by now. Showboating his palms out level with his hips as if about to bow. Pauses, then holds up a finger. His hands go behind his back. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't watching in even a little morbid interest by now. Though she has straightened up, alert.

The man throws a punch. Loki dodges almost lazily, then again as a second punch is thrown.

Steps a leg between the other's legs and he falls.

It's like a trope scene straight out of a movie.

“Leading your punches, no inkling of footwork,” Loki pulls the earlier weapon from where the man had embedded it in the bar, and the chimera tenses reflexively. Light emerald eyes merely squint at it however. “And a...scullery knife? Glorified? For a weapon? You truly are just for the beasts, aren't you...”

The man has scrambled to his feet, but doesn't bother to stand fully as he uses his low angle to charge. Loki dodges again, using the other's low angle to his own advantage now as he plants a foot onto his back. The man crashing loudly into the floor beneath it, as Loki holds nothing back. The scene was comical enough to be funny were it not a real thing happening before her that looked so painful.

There aren't many other people at the other table's. But she sees the two women who'd been seated at one in a far corner get up quickly and bustle the child with them out the door. A man at another leaving while watching warily too.

“Don't break him, Raven Prince, you've had your fun.”

“Fun” wasn't really a descriptor she would use to describe the stony look that had become of her travel companion's eyes. A hint of the crazed glint returning, making the tavern's warm lighting seem a bit foreboding.

Still, Loki obliged. Stepping off onto the man's arm, making a point to step on his hand as he stepped over to examine the self-disarmed weapon. It looked less like a sword than an overgrown cartoon kitchen knife, with bonus ornate metal twisted on one side of it.

Loki lifts then tests its weight in a loose grip. He looks to the man, saying, “Mine now.”

“Loki..,”

“For now,” Loki retaliates to the growl, turning after setting the blade on the bar in front of her to face the growl-ee. The lead man. He makes his way nearer to where he's seated.

“Definitely not a guard dog...” She looks over from the downed man to see the barkeep pondering the words at her.

For effect, she let's a yawn have full reign; Maw as wide as it could go, exposing fangs and teeth and curling tongue in all their glory. Then she laid her head back onto the bar.

The man watches her, then after a moment gives a grunt of a laugh that pitches his entire torso for a moment.

She counted that as a win through her nervous energy. Of course he was unfazed. Used to witnessing such altercations. He owned a bar. She would have given him the benefit of the doubt that maybe here was different, but she remembered Floor Tooth...

She turned her attention back to where Loki had gone and the group and watched them silently.

“I've a proposition for you.”

“I assumed as much,” the leader returns. Taking a hearty drink from his tankard. The barkeep—Ivar?, she remembers suddenly. Assuming that was his name—must have served them while the fight was center stage. He swallows with a breath, finishing, “Why else would you be associating with the lowly hunters and their foolish name.”

“You must admit, the name is a bit childish.” The man on the floor has finally risen, brushing past Loki who dodges a possible attempt to bump shoulders from behind without even looking. Adding more to the expense of the man at the mocks from his seated cohorts. “I've never a word against you, yourself.”

“Insulting your recruits is a poor way to do business.”

“As is shunning coin when you've none of your own.”

“...I could just turn you in and collect bounty.”

Loki's smile crooks a bit more, canting his head forward at the end of his blink.

“...Was just a thought.” And if the man sounds a bit chagrined, maybe it's just her imagination.

“'Thoughts' aside..,” Loki sits in the chair opposite the leader. Visibly measuring the man up, and receiving the same treatment in turn.

“...I am in need of a party.”

The man snorts softly, nearly spluttering it into his drink.

“Really? 'I could have twice the kills in half the time.' needs a party?”

Loki's grin goes to instead stretch a corner of his lips downward.

“I'll be honest. I was expecting a fetch quest from you where you didn't have to be amongst us lessers.”

There's a pause as the man pulls a flask from his belt. Flipping open the wooden top and pouring the contents into the drink in front of him.

“We're not mercenaries,” he sighs as he continues, “so you specifically must want trackers. Or fodder. Given that you don't just use your fancy tricks to disappear yourself there.”

“I hardly need your tracking services,” Loki hums. “Just body's with an eye for less cognizant adversaries and a mind for adventure and coin. And, nothing else.”

The man is glaring lightly into Loki's smirk now. She hears Ivar sigh where he has returned to behind the counter.

“Where would you take us?” Loki remains silent and smiling long enough in answer that, his pitch rises some. “At least lend me that much, you mad—”

“—Vanaheim, is as far as we'll go. Likely. Though we start here on Asgard.”

“And what is our quarry?”

“You've a lot of questions for coin suddenly.” The hint of the dangerous tone is back, and she can see the edge of his smirk filed.

Lead man leans back, face confident. “Well that bounty's still an option,” he states in answer. He pushes up from the table, ignoring Loki stating his doubt at the offering of such a thing. “Alright,” he calls to his surrounding men, “the daylight is going. We've business to finish before morning, eh?”

A few harsh laughs answer him, some of the group slower to rise from their seats and cups than the others.

“I'll think about your vague prospect. Aye?” the man leans towards a none-too-happy Loki. He walks to the door then, pushing aside men to make it to their fore.

They throw the door open hard enough for it to hit the outside wall. Through the group of which she counted only seven leaving with the leader included, her angle is such to the treeline a short distance away that she glimpses two people. Catching her attention as they are oddly knelt in the dirt. Their hands apparently bound to the trees they are separately next to. Nearby a small saddled herd of horses, apparently belonging to the exiting group.

The look of fear the two give upon seeing them coming out at the hit of the door sets her on edge. She realizes she's risen slightly on her perch, but she doesn't move otherwise. She glances in front of her. Ivar is gone, as she's suspected from the lack of noise of his bustlingings shortly after Loki had started his negotiation.

"We'll set up camp, then you two can get started.”

Okay yeah no. The chimera gets down from the stool as the woman's face pales even behind her suntanned complexion, the bound man's reaction about the same. She trots between tables to the door, feeling a by now worrylingly familiar adrenaline rush as she looked on.

The few men lagging behind look down at her questioningly. But she pays them no mind. Focused on the one's already mounting their horses on the other side of the sandy lot. The two unlucky enough to be bound, watching wide-eyed for their imminent departure. The woman's fingertips are bleeding on one hand, and it doesn't take more than a glimpse at the rope interwoven with the metal binding her to know why.

The chimera quickly studies the faces of each of the men, trying to decide... To squash her probably most unwise yet decision... Plus they might be prisoners or the like, trying to garner favor from passerbys, scant as they may be here.

The bad part about her new ears being able to hear everything was that it was hard to hear one thing. What she put together though, was “how much fun we're gonna have with these two.”

Damnit.

Loki had risen as the chimera made her way to the doorway. Sighing heavily as she bounds from it, a snarl loud enough to hear inside.

“Right..,” he says, making to follow. In no hurry though, already privy to what was about to happen...

Chapter Text

“...had gripe with me, you shoulda been outright, not sick your beast on me!”

“—Haskell...”

“I mean, do you know how long it took me to gather up the lot I already have? It will take far more than a mere night to even scratch those numbers again—”

“—Haskell...”

“They're not lively but they're not dead., You'd better be about fixing this, 'sorcerer', or it'll—”

He finally cut off upon seeing a dangerous glint in Loki's eyes. On top of perhaps reminding himself of who he was berating as if he didn't have anything to lose.

“...what?” he amended

Loki stared him down for some moments, clearly waiting to see if he would indeed need said magic to shut the angrily babbling man up for long enough to speak himself. As tiredly annoyed as he himself was at the moment, blowing the man's head off was not entirely as excluded as it should be from the options of how to bring that about.

Straightening where he'd been leaned sideways into his propped hand, Loki leaned forward against the thick wood table where they sat.

“Since you don't appear to be going anywhere any time soon, perhaps we can discuss my proposal more in depth.”

Haskell eyed him up and down warily. “So you did plan this?”

“I was content to attend to other business before retiring for the night. However, she saw something she did not like and chose to act. She has a mind of her own.”

“What, the mongrel?”

“Shall we discuss, or not?”

Haskell straightened himself too now, crossing his broad arms over leather armored chest. After a moment he looked to his heap of men all afflicted with the same poison and unconscious. The half still awake, at the table nearest and standing close protective guard. His eyes went back to Loki.

“...—I want a mead. And vittles.”

Green eye's narrowed in exasperation as lips below made themselves into a line to match. “...Very well,” he pushed himself up. It not being worth the argument.

He made his way over to the bar in the mostly empty pub. Curiosity on his features as he surveyed the bar, mostly empty despite the hour. But perhaps why one of the bar's tenders made their way over to him so quickly.

The demigod asked for what was asked of him, turning when the side ask for healing herbs was received; a common addition to what such places offered, common as fights and wounded hunters were in this region. Approaching the few of the only other's present, where he'd herded them at a table close to the bar.

Two pairs of eyes looked to him as he approached and set the potent bowl of aroma on the table at their backs. Eyes avoiding their expressions.

With a twist of his hand he turned to the chimera sitting directly in front of the couple giving them back and forth concerned looks, the only one of the group who hadn't reacted to him approaching. A gauze of bandages swarthed her shoulder, nursing what he knew to be a gash there. That she hadn't been beheaded, much less had only gotten a sizable wound there and no other injury that was visible at least, luck truly seemed to be on her side. That, and intimidation further waning the blades of the barely averagely skilled she'd challenged.

With a crossbreed involuntary yelp she was back to human within a moment, falling back to her backside from her crouch. His eyes lingered, with interest, on where any sign of gauze and gash were gone.

“Ah!” The woman clapped her hands to her mouth in shock after a dumbfounded few moments of silent staring at the sudden chimera turned human.

Loki gave the woman the impatiently exasperated look now, dropping his head to the side. She looked up to him at the movement.

She dropped her hands to her lap to look at them.

“Apologies..,” The young woman was almost certain she heard a trailed off mumbled 'Your Highness' tacked onto the end. She glances between the woman and Loki for a moment.

“You will see to your prizes that we may depart before Ragnarok has passed?” he asked with mock sweetness of the human straightening out from her near sprawl on the floor as he looked to her with flat expression. Just in time to catch the stone he tossed at her. And with a look at the foot of the woman the man was fumbling to treat, the apparent perpetrator of his comment, he turned back to the bar and the meal that was set upon it.

The young woman felt a fluttering tightness in her stomach. Saccharine from the supposed god of lies and deception couldn't be a good sign. Inherently. The memory of the demigod standing before the traveling merchant, tendrils of glowing emerald green creeping from his fingers he had shaped as if around the man's throat and into his eyes, the man's face shaped in the beginning of cries that never came, creeping into her thoughts. She fought it back, refusing to feel anxiousness she knew he'd be able to practically sense. To use. Plus, he seemed to be capitalizing on her interference. So it couldn't be that bad for their tenuous truce of a relationship that she'd decided to do so. She breathed a slow breath, half part calming, and half just a sigh.

The woman had exacerbated her foot injury amidst the combat the chimera had started around her. However short a scuffle it had been. Instincts taking over as she'd remembered partially numbing her own paw the week before. Having inadvertently given herself the smallest of cuts on the pad with one of the quill-like barbs that had grown near the end of her tail, nestled forgettably amongst the fur. Apparently with a proper flick of her tail, and what felt like a small surge of the apparent bit of cursed magic within her that she was now vaguely aware of the feeling of to both propel them and partially guide her movement during the act, the barbs could be propelled as a forcible shot into unarmored bodies.

Everything about it..."bizarre" and "strange" barely began to summarize it in her mind.

Of course, her aim was not as great as her surprise. So those far enough away were unintentionally spared. Those close enough had not been. And those too close, what her weird, mid-battle mace-like tail couldn't handle, a firm disabling bite to the leg handled nicely.

The man too had frozen from his work at the sudden and unexpected shift before him. He still stared at the young woman as she recovered enough from the pain of turning human after so long as not again. Her eyes went to him sheepishly once they opened again and noticed him staring.

“...so are you woman first, or beast?”

She cracked an almost smile for a mere moment. “Honestly, I'm...never too sure anymore,” she joked, underused voice crackled, eyes falling.

Loki returned to the table after paying enough to cajole the conscience of Haskell's men meals as well. The warrior was staring over at the young woman too, seemingly also surprised at this revelation.

Loki set down his dinner in front of Haskell, ignoring the look. “Now then.”

Hunter looked to him then, studying in what might have been confusion. After a moment however, it melted away as he shook his head grabbing the growler of mead.

“I'm not even gonna ask...”

“A rare but wise decision.” Despite his words, Loki is taking back up his irritation as in the next moment, the other man is looking in the human's direction again.

To her credit, she is helping to treat and wrap the woman's foot. Though she notices Haskell's attention with a glance.

She makes a bold point to shoot him a mild glare.

Before Loki can begin to speak again, the burly man leans back heavily to the protest of the chair where he's seated. Crossing his arms.

“We only had those two because they owed a debt." He turns back to Loki. "We cleaned their land of predators at their request so their home and livestock would be safe, and gave them a date when they didn't have enough offer in return. We were just going to have them do the worst of the grunt work. Cleaning up abscesses and offals and such.”

“I don't care. But you expect a bystander to believe that was the intent of all in your ranks? Do you believe that?”

The man's look loses it's defensive edge, and his answer is obvious. Was obvious from the fact that he mounted a defense at all.

Loki mimics his pose now. “Much less that you didn't force them to accept your 'offer' in the first place.”

“I thought you didn't care.” Haskell is studying him now. “...You were always too 'learned' and accusing for my taste.”

“And you too dull and loose-lipped for mine.” Loki removes his cheek from the hand where his head had been momentarily propped, leaning forward. “Yet here we are.”

“Well,” the man scratches his chin, “even the dullest whore knows when someone disgusting is worth top coin.”

“That is disgusting and crude and you are to never say it again.” Loki's hand finds his cheek and eyes again. “Also, did you just refer to yourself as a whore...?”

“You're one to talk.”

Loki sighs throatily for a long moment. He peers at the man over the fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The man gives a quick, nonchalant shrug of a shoulder with a quirk of his brow, still leaned back with crossed arms.

“Childish,” Loki says around his hand. “I can't believe you're the one that came to mind. There are others...”

“—but you can't much go to them anymore, Silvertongue, now that you've presented to me. Again.” Haskell taps his temple during the cheeky grin that follows. Loki holds his pose, staring. Haskell leans forward as he plants his fists on the table. “'One forgets,' I'm not as dull as you think me.”

He turns to the human. Again. “Not to mention now I've seen whatever that is. What is that?”

Loki has propped fully onto a hand. His face not allowing doubt that he regretted this encounter not holding off to occur in the morning after a night's rest for preparation instead.

“Are you going to explain—?”

“No.”

“Not even if we become your band?” The chair protests at his leaning back again. “We travel with you, stolen goods, a woman—practically...actually...a youth, disguised as a beast or worse the other way around, and no answers?”

Loki stares tiredly.

Haskell grins. “I didn't hear a no to the stolen goods.”

“Your proclivity for incessantly swapping between dull and sharper edges never ceases to amaze.” Loki removes hand from face as the man is back on track, regaining some of his composure. “I didn't come unprepared to barter with means other than money.”

“A temptation. Of course you wouldn't lead with that.”

“There's the charm that wins you what you want.”

Haskell ignores him. “What do you have?”

“Suffice it to say it wasn't easy to obtain.”

“Nothing reeking of your palace's scent?”

“That's objectively subjective,” Loki scratches at the table with a nail. Watching the man across from him with a hard look.

“I'll want to see it.” Face clearly thinking deeply, Haskell nods to his thoughts. “Don't want any second-hand law hunt lingering after your welcome's worn down.”

“The barter is you accompany me for a time before I give you anything,” says Loki, squint matching his derisive tone. “You're aware what that entails?”

Haskell waves him away. “Easy enough to lie that away. I assume you'll be in disguise anyway? How were us lessers to know?” he pats the table. Standing and looking over to the bar. “You've gotten away with frequenting this place this long.”

Ivar, who can surely hear him in the quiet of the dim evening glowing tavern, doesn't react. Not even looking up from his work. Until Haskell calls to him that they'll be staying the night.

“No room as usual?” says Ivar, still not looking up from what had him occupied. “You'll be taking the green?”

“Consider it secure,” Haskell stretches, leathers creaking with the movement. The boar looking like an obscene puppet on his shoulder, mouth almost moving with his yawn. Maybe not boar, as she notices the almost imperceptible small horns lining down its neck amongst the fur as he approaches. “Though we're down almost half, thanks to young woman beast there.”

Still sitting on the floor in front of the two, she meets his look evenly as he passes. Not letting mild exhausted nerves show. Making a point not to look away even at the wild animal reek on him swishing past, until he had to look away first to watch his footing. Mumbling about his “Caught off-guard dolts...”.

She watches him for a while, passing amongst his men, in and out of the doors. She's so intent between checking over his former captives, now fully bandaged and recovering, and watching Haskell and his men's whereabouts, that by the time she remembers to look for Loki, he is gone. The new stone he'd handed her had taken a little longer to crumble than the last one. She's not sure if that's due to the green crystalline tinge of this stone in particular, or maybe her focus on the “weight” in her core and keeping it (barely) lifted. Likely the former.

Still, when it does crumble, the couple is only slightly cautious, hesitant, as they reached out towards her with their injuries. She'd blinked in surprise, reaching out with her free hand to help with the bandages, which somehow led to them reaching out to her other hand, still trying to keep the fine powder trapped. The couple had informed her in hushed tones that it was a “healing stone”. They looked confused then disappointed after directing her hand to allow the powder over their bandages and injuries thereof. As if just ending up with dusty bandage dressings wasn't what they had expected.

It was all she could do to keep herself from verbally questioning their sanity. There was believing in the healing properties of minerals. And then there was believing crushing them into powder would somehow heal your wounds.

And yes, she mentally told herself. That was the hill she was willing to die on for now, in this new world of magic and enchantments. The line had to be drawn somewhere.

Despite the fact that shortly after this stone had disintigrated, she couldn't hold her human form any longer. She'd stood watch over the two as they comforted each other, growing re-accustomed to her chimerical presence. She debates leaving them after the realization that Loki is gone. But, with the deal seemingly struck with the hunt party's leader, surely he hasn't just left? Plus she doesn't want to leave the two, so she settles. Blinking the morning light away hours later with no memory of sleep.

She worries as the two bid her farewell, even after escorting them to and through the corral of impromptu skinning, butchering, and cooking stations amongst tents Haskell's men have set up outside. Glaring or slightly baring her teeth cautiously at the few men they encountered. She watches the two depart after insisting to her that they will be okay the short distance to their destination. Then she turns back inside, looking to find Loki.

Passively hating how much higher the stairs appeared at her new height as her body announced its sleeping-on-the-floor exhaustion with stiffness. A yawn and aching pain from her forgotten wrapped shoulder.

She bumps someone's leg as they pass. Too exhausted to be affected.

The woman, all tawny skin just a shade barely noticeable from the rich oaky color of the wood that made up the walls, looks down at her curiously. She's enraptured by deep auburn eyes. Framed by tight waves of short hair. Only partially concealing one of her pointed ears, not unlike the ones fictional elves notoriously tended to have in media and video games that pervaded Earth...

“Pardon me, pup.”

She's too tired to remember she doesn't currently have the vocal chords to respond with proper words, her mouth trying to emit noises that didn't translate anyway. The woman is all smiles with a chuckle beneath bright eyes in response all the same.

“You're sure you want to be leaving the room so soon?”

She's confused at the unexpected question, until the woman looks to the top of the stairs. Surprised to find, of all people, Loki standing there.

He continues down two stairs as the woman ascends one. They ending up on the same stair. She looks up at him through her lashes. A quirk to her brow. “We haven't even had any fun.”

Loki leans in, lips stopping uncomfortably close to her jaw.

List of things she didn't want to see from her mentally extreme travel companion. This she hadn't thought about, but it swiftly took the nearly top spot firmly and decisively. Watching the former terror of your "realm” blatantly fraternize was...

“Such things are never what lures you here," she mercifully hears him say from her spot next to them, finishing as the woman giggles, "And you know it."

"I wouldn't say 'never'," she grins. Lithe, tawny fingers reaching up to caress the end of a lock of his dark hair. Tracing the waves.

"I assume from your presence that you're willing for ventures?"

The woman scoffs lightly, watching where her fingers still held his hair with smile still on her face. "So long as you Asgardians have outside business that needs tending, I will be here to collect."

With no further words, Loki reaches into the small pouch at his waist. Handing her the small, turquoise crystalline piece he'd extracted. It's surface shimmering and with microscopic spots of iridescence, as if coated in frost.

The elfish brow raises slightly in intrigue.

"A sample?"

"Of sorts," he responded.

She hums thoughtfully, turning the piece over in her hand. Holding it with palm up, her other hand covers it up in the same position as she closes her eyes. Nothing visibly happens in the moments that follow, but from her proximity, the chimera hears an ever so faint, hum-like ringing. The woman gives a scoff, face showing amused skepticism.

"Doesn't seem likely."

"That's for you to find out."

A row of near blindingly white teeth appear on the woman's face as she looks up to Loki.

"I'm always for seeking the impossible." She pulls the bag on her back that seemed more like a large rolled cloth around to her side. Tucking away the stone and retying the strings securing the bag.

And just like that it seems, she turns to leave. Placing a hand on the chimera's head where she is still standing from watching the exchange.

The woman looks to where her hand is still rested atop the sometimes-human's head as she pauses on the step below her. It's only after a few seconds of meeting each other's eyes that dark auburn ones have sudden realization. She looks up to Loki.

“Is this... Is this a Midgardian?”

He quirks a brow.

“...I'm split between lauding your perceptiveness, and—”

“—Worry not, unprized prince, I know my employ is not to tell your secrets.” She can't much say she likes the wolfish grin she receives from the woman in the next moment. “Whatever they may be.”

Loki looks much less in a sensually playful mood, she glimpses of his facade. So there's that positive.

She feels her ear stroked thoughtfully. The smiling woman getting her eyes again. “You're far from the trunk of the Tree, aren't you?”

...she can't say she understood that statement. Her head cocks before she can stop herself with her hand still atop it. Because what? She's not sure if she should feel insulted, or how she should react at all.

She doesn't get the time to decide. “I'll take my leave. I'd like those reparations,” says the woman, allowing her hand to linger on the wolfish head until she was too far down the stairs to reach above her.

Loki huffs at the statement. The chimera looks up to him, watching as he watches the elfish woman go. He sighs, the mild irritation that seemed to be his default state for the past twenty-four hours back on his face as he adjusts his bag, brisking past her down the stairs. She gives a sigh of her own, following after him.

He heads straight through the tavern, all but breezing past Ivar as he makes his way straight to the door. The chimera meets eyes with the barkeep when he turns from watching Loki during his work. Tilting her head with a chuff in as much as she can do for a morning greeting. She notices as the door swings open, the lack of sub- and semi-conscious men scattered about. Finding them outside as they were earlier, though it didn't register in her mind.

"Always on the go." Ivar draws her attention. He watching the door swing shut behind Loki. Lifting something in her direction, causing her to pause. She reacts reflexively as the barkeep tosses it to her. The taste and smell confirms the glimpse she'd gotten of meat on the way to her. "Try not to get too swept up."

Her eyes go back to him. Tail giving a natural sway of appreciation that she hopes translates, as a bow of wolfish head felt too ridiculous to act on.

Not that it was easy to get a read on the stoic man anyway. Though he nods to her.

"Take care of yourself, pup."

She gives a quiet, partial, bark-like noise around her mouthful. Devouring the morsel with the excuse of time before she reached the door as she made her way to it. Trotting once out to catch up with Loki.

She watched him weave through the working stations, steps never wavering as she reached him, even though she couldn't find the leader through the organized chaos. Until, by confident steps, they were suddenly in front of Haskell anyway.

"Yeah, yeah," the man grouses. Pulling on the protective overlayer to his shirt. Seemingly only recently awake. The what appears to be dehydrating and just general parsing station for the surprising amount of meat they seemed to have hauled back, his first stop as he dresses for the day. "I've considered your offer, and we accept."

The man looks up, being sure to look into her usual travel companions eyes. "No tricks."

Loki grins in satisfaction. Making his way past the group to where his own horse is tethered. She notices, in curiosity, a lack of his carriage. "You'll appreciate a few tricks should we find ourselves in a bind."

"Bind?"

Loki huffs, leading his horse over. "These woods in general can be daunting. Then there's a vague chance of that 'palace scent' that you spoke of. Really, it can't actually be this hard in your head."

Haskell grunts non-commitally, lacing the tethers on his boots. The new downward focus leads him to meet eyes with the chimera.

Apparently they would be spending a lot of time together, she thinks, meeting the look he gave mistrustfully.

"And keep that thing on a bind," Haskell grouses, jerking his head towards her.

"If she has you worried enough to mention her," Loki grins, playfulness back with his seemingly lifted mood, "O hunter."

She half expects the golden tether to be back around her neck in the next moment. But even as she glances away from Haskell to check, she finds nothing there. Loki still grinning at the other man, noncommittally.

In a very human—Earth-human, however it worked, she still wasn't sure—gesture, Haskell rolls his eyes as he lifts handles of the large wooden wheelbarrow full of various salted and dehydrated meat slabs. Pulling it along behind him as he headed back towards the tavern they'd left.

The chimera moves toward Loki to afford him space to pass, but doesn't let up on their third staring contest until he is again forced to look away to watch his footing.

Hopefully not too much time together, she thinks.