lokilaufeyyson:
iamthefirechild:
lokilaufeyyson:
iamthefirechild:
Anger and pain, rage and cruelty … they poured through her in a never ending flood, and Summer clenched her hands into fists, unconsciously weeping with the burn of it. They were fighting now; she could almost see it behind her eyes.
Almost wasn’t enough. She dropped lower, then lower, eyes half-lidded and moving solely on the line of emotions. Something barred her path, and she shoved fire into it until it exploded from pure heat, and another, and then cool stone lay beneath her feet, and Loki held a giant being at bay, cruelty dripping off him like water after rain.
“I can kill you, Thanos,” Loki whispered, holding him down with a ray of light from the spear. ”I can kill you because now I have real reason to. You have threatened not only me, but another, innocent.” He plunged the spear into his chest, and narrowed his eyes, almost smiling, when Thanos screamed out in pain. ”And I am not always without sentiment.” He twisted the blade.
Summer’s scream echoed Thanos’. The pain was beyond outrageous. She dropped to the floor, bracing herself on hands and knees, breathing hard. “Don’t — play, Loki,” she gritted. “I’m in his — mind.” Clawing one hand off the floor, she shaped the pain into an enormous, swirling fireball, and flung it at Thanos.
Loki raised his eyebrows and stepped back slowly as the mass of flame hit its target. He ripped the spear from the creature and watched proudly as he clutched at his own body, life leaving him, until finally he was still. It was done, then. A great hiss of air left his lungs in an exhale he did not know he had been holding back. For a moment, the entirety of this forsaken place seemed to be still, resting, emptied of all action. Loki turned slowly and allowed his eyes to focus on Summer, staring at her reverently. He said volumes with that look.
And then the sound of an approaching army did a rather successful job of breaking the moment.
“I would suggest we run.”
Staggering to her feet, Summer clutched her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. Tears ran down her face unnoticed. “Go first, then. I can fly. Go!” The last was a shout, over her shoulder, as she turned to face the direction of the sound. Wisps of fire began to swirl around her form again, even with arms locked tight around her shoulders and feet planted wide for balance.
Death chimed up and down her bones, making them sing out in cruel arpeggios. Summer wanted to be out of here, wanted to be home, safe, up to her neck in literal hot water and not metaphorical.
Wanted the pain to stop, wanted to believe Loki had listened to her.
Wanted to believe what his last look had implied.
Staring into the darkness, she held her ground, giving him time to escape.