“Not everyone,” Loki hissed, thinking of himself. He excused himself to wash for the day. ”Is there something else I can do for you, Summer? Before you are on your way today?”
Sudden anger shot through Summer. She flung herself out of the bed, heedless of her state of undress, and snatched at Loki’s hand, projecting love as hard as she could. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Everyone.”
Loki staggered back from her sudden touch, as an unfamiliar feeling pushed at him from all angles. He felt it surround and press against his skin, curling warmly between his fingers as they were clutched in Summer’s. The feeling pricked at his eyes and climbed up his throat. It was unbearably beautiful.
“Ahh, what…” he breathed, but then could only close his eyes and pull her closer.
She let him pull her in, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his chest. “Oh, Loki. Look at us. Both so convinced we’re worthless people, so confused by others caring.” Closing her eyes, she kept projecting, pouring her sympathy and caring and desire for this wounded, struggling man out.
“Look at us both,” he repeated, nodding into her hair. ”Imagine what we could accomplish if we were without sentiment.”
It was something he had tried to achieve, but almost had to admit he could not. Yet here was a creature whose existence revolved around emotion. How tiring her life must be. He was exhausted already.
Summer thwacked his back lightly. “You’d be dead, because I wouldn’t have this power. I’ve known people who tried to cut off their emotions, and it didn’t end well for them.” Leaning back enough to look him in the face, she went on, “Loki … I can’t speak for you. But I told you once already, they tried to … mute me. And it was awful.”