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.”
“I can’t imagine how. Look how much pain this causes you. I see what you have to endure, just to be near someone. And you say it hurt to be without feeling?”
He shook his head and paced around the room. This woman was turning his brain to mush.
Her mouth twisted. “Imagine if someone took your magic from you.” Folding her arms, Summer regarded Loki. “That is how essential it is to me to feel. In this pain, I know I am alive.” She couldn’t help but frown, dark brows drawing together over green eyes. “Why is this so important to you? To push away emotion. Sentiment.”