You did ask. Don’t ask if you don’t want the answer. :looks at him, hard-eyed: I’m your opposite in some ways, god of lies, born of ice. I’m the daughter of the fire, and I always speak truth.
Emotions don’t scare me. I’ve seen them all, I’ve tasted them all. It only hurts when I try to deny them.
:looks away, drinks again, speaking softly: Is that what this is about, then? You have a … sentiment you need carried?
:scoffs: I have no sentiment. I am heavy with too many thoughts and not enough to do with them, I suppose. Heavy with memory…expectation…I know not what.
Aren’t you supposed to tell me? :smiles weakly, takes another drink: You must have exquisite sentiment of your own then?
Oh, aye, I can tell you your … sentiments. But not always why, or what you would do with them. :swirls the wine in the glass: And yes, I feel, strongly. Overwhelmingly, sometimes. I can understand a desire to stop thinking.
But I would not be without it. :takes a clip out of her hair and starts to play with the river of it as it comes down over her shoulders: Just like my hair, it’s so much a part of my self-identity that to lose it would be to lose myself.
They tried, once. I had rather burn, suffer, for a thousand years than not feel.
“They?” Loki tilted his head to the side, curious. He took another long drink. ”Who would try such a thing?” He tried to steady himself from distraction as she dragged her fingers through her hair. Her words echoed softly in his mind…he couldn’t imagine embracing such lifestyle. He hated his own emotions, hated the way they fueled him, made him weak, hasty. It was a rare luxury to even consider the feelings of others.
She shrugged, avoiding looking at him. “People, people around me. To feel so strongly … it’s not ordinary. It frightens people. There are drugs — I felt like I was walking in a world of cotton. Muffled.” With a shudder, she tossed the rest of the wine back and held the glass out to him. “You think you’re finding my weaknesses, don’t you?”