The first warm glow of twilight was spreading over the Asgardian sky. Loki stood very still on what was left of the bridge to the bifrost, clear green eyes idly watching the celestial bodies in the sky. His head ached from last night’s mental battle. His hands were clenched in uneasy fists, one gripping a stolen transportation relic. He knew what must be done. He only hoped they could be off before Heimdall tried to stop them.
Summer wasn’t sure what Loki wanted, only that she’d been summoned to meet him at the shattered edge of the bifrost. What should she be for him, tonight? Did he want to drink, again? Flirt, play?
Rehearse his history?
As she flew down the remaining length of the bridge, fire-born wings trailing sparks behind her, she could see him, poised at the edge. Landing softly, she called, “Loki?”