Blue suits you
You purse your lips, “Answer me, Loki.”
Panic flashes in his eyes prior to the surprise in response to the banging on his chamber doors which pulls him away from his decision, dragging his legs to turn the knob without a look back to you.
A disheveled Thor bounces into the room, voice booming off the smooth wood around him, “Brother!” Thor stomps farther into the room, slapping a hand onto the back of Loki, “I must insist you join us for our evening ride. It has been days since you have strayed from this side of the palace.” Thor continues to move about the room, wobbly and unaware of you.
You stand from your chair, walking across to the exit to only gain Thor’s attention as Loki attempts to stop you, “I’ve not given you an answer, Goddess.”
“My question was for the universe, not your chambers, God.” You answer over your shoulder, only turning as Thor speaking behind you is somehow louder than when you face him.
He smiles wide and crooked, “Goddess, how kind of you to join us. Though, if one never leaves can they truly ever join?” Thor chuckles to himself, “I’m sure if you agree to join our party for the evening adventure my brother will follow, it seems to be all he has done since you arrived.”
“I’m not sure you find yourself truthful, brother.” Loki hisses.
“Oh,” Thor rolls, “I find myself rather truthful when fueled by a good meal and mead.” The God of Thunder turns to you, “So, Goddess, what do you reply? Shall you join us in our outing tonight?”
You sigh, “Thor, until you are able to saddle your daily horse yourself, I am unable to hold your company.”
He sucks on his cheek and bites his words, “I assure you I am perfectly capable of keeping my own recreational habits in order.”
“I must regret that I agree with your brother, then, in the case of your inability to be truthful under the influences of meal and mead.” You turn without a word, exiting Loki’s chambers.
The walk to your own door is mused by the shouting of the two gods you left behind. The crescendo a climb to the climax of a slamming door and two pairs of footsteps walking towards the stables. You find yourself, once again, lying under the butterfly tapestry. Watching the wings fall through the seasons, collecting no sweets in the stead of judgment, your eyes slowly drop into blackness.
You’re unsure when you truly awake as it takes many minutes to realize that you are, the only difference is you cannot see the tapestry above you. You also can’t see the trinkets on the bedside table, the garden outside the window, or the table and window for that matter. You can see rough shapes, not enough to know what they are, but you know there must be a table there and that red tent above you must be the butterfly story.
You lay longer as more yellow and white light fills the room but does nothing to aid the lack of detail around you. Palms massage your eyelids, an attempt to rub the mystic sleep out, but no rubbing or blinking clears it. You recall several times of this happening in one universe, a place where you needed those around you to help describe the surroundings to better connect to the environment, but you lack that aid here.
Attempting to remember details yourself, you sit up and run a hand across your sheets to find the familiar texture of the blanket that is so often found around your shoulders. Wrapping yourself in it does not remind you of the embroidery patterns or stitches on the edges, you know they exist, but they feel like a word just at the tip of your tongue.
Hours pass as you slowly step around your room in the changing sunlight, reaching different surfaces trying to remember what sits atop of them. The bedside table is home to items meant to draw you in visually, items tied to the people here but you cannot remember their details. You know they’re for the princes of Asgard, those you gifted you those items specifically for the purpose of anchoring, but they feel like blobs in your hands and look like dough to your eyes.
A mirror bends more colors and shapes than you believe possible on one body, the changing room beside it only holding rags of fabric in various shades of nothing. Mental exhaustion crawls into your brain as desperation and fear begin to dance, a need for fresh air is ringing in your chest.
You slowly find your way to the hall and out the door to the garden, following the perimeter of the wall with your fingertips dragging on the stone. Unsure of how you have not run into a table or person, you step onto the pavement of the park and feel the cool blocks under your feet.
Slow step by slow step, you feel the window around you and use the visual mess in front of you to find your way to the edge of the pathway where the wall overlooking the city below sits. You root your fingers into the railing, desperately looking into the horizon to remember any detail, but all you see in the orange and pink sky begin to get darker. As the realization that an entire day has passed in confusion and in fear sets in your chest, you hear a soft path of footsteps come your direction.
You remain silent, almost unmoving, in hopes that whoever is passing through the garden will continue doing just that. However, the footsteps stop just to your left. You continue to look out at the version of Asgard created by smears of a fallen painting and ignore the fear ringing in your ears at the silence of the guest.
“Goddess,” Frigga’s voice breaks the tension in your chest, “Are you here?”
You nod, “Yes.”
“Is this where you intend to be?” Her voice is unmoving.
You nod again to the set of questions a Seer tends to ask, the set of questions to ensure you are not bleeding into more than one world by accident.
Frigga takes a step to stand beside you, her voice projecting over the wall now, “Would you like to ask your questions?”
Another nod, “Who are you?”
“I am Frigga, the Seer of this universe.” She says, “ Wife of Odin, Mother of Thor and Loki, Queen of Asgard and the Asgardian gods, Goddess of Motherhood and Marriage.”
“What is my name?” you ask.
“Your name is unknown to those in this universe, they simply call you Goddess. A name you have not chosen but answered to.”
“Define my relationship to you here.”
“Here you remain a guest of the court, we have no definable relationship today.” Frigga’s responses settle the anxiety of being misplaced, of being in yet another universe you do not intend to be in.
“I intend to be here,” you confirm with confidence this time, “thank you for answering.”
Her voice turns to you now, “Goddess, can I help you with anything? Are you alright?”
You turn your head to her with your gaze down, chinto shoulder and nod sharply, “I am content. Please, don't let me interrupt your evening further.”
There is hesitation in the silence that precedes the shape of Frigga bowing, “Our paths should cross again, Goddess.”
You bow in return, “And again, Goddess.”
In the silence she entered, the Mother of Asgard exits the garden and leaves you again in your disturbed peace.
A deep blue vapes itself over all the shapes in front of you, the slight distinguishing features you had moments ago now gone in the dusk. You grate your eyes, squinting them for any detail amongst the streets and valleys you know are in front of you only to find nothing.
Your last attempt to find anything of value closes in on a small shape a light shade darker than the rest, just to the right of the town. You focus on it until your eyes burn from not blinking, thinking of what the blurry box may be. A stable, perhaps, one where roaming animals sleep at night and spend all day avoiding in the field that surrounds it.
Contemplation is interrupted by steps entering from the direction Frigga left. They stop once again as they reach a few paces from you.
You smile and nod quickly in their direction, “I promise, I’m quite alright. I insist that you not let me take more of your time chatting this evening.”
“I would indulge you on that request, however we have spent no time talking all day.” Loki’s voice surprised you, “I believe you have me mistaken for another.”
You tick your tongue against your teeth, “You seem to be correct, my apologies.” Turning your head once more, you find that small dark shape in the field again.
A moment passes before Loki speaks, “Goddess, I have been pondering the question you asked of me at the end of our tea.” You remain silent, waiting for his conclusion, “I have decided, if it is alright, to postpone my decision until after the week has come to an end.”
“It is your decision,” you say, “you may make it at any point.”
“You will stay, then?”
“I will stay until I am told to leave.” You explain, a small shrug pulls at your shoulders.
“If you are never told to leave, you shall remain forever?” he asks.
Your eyes drop from the shape you concentrate on and find the length of the railing where your hands are perched. “I will remain for that universe’s length of forever. Though, time moves very differently for the person who created them.”
You hear Loki’s breath as he thinks, assuming he has nodded. You turn towards him and find the shape of his head, looking hopefully somewhere close to his eyes. Before you can begin to ask him to take you back to your chambers, his quick inhale nearly startled you.
“Goddess,” he gasps lightly, “Are you alright?”
You can only stare at the shape of him as your brain begins to run a race to piece together what he may be staring at in front of him. Does he see the version of you that you see? Are you wounded and you had not realized? Is your hair standing on end and he only began to notice it was not of choice at this very moment? Your confusion must be painted on your face as Loki goes on to explain.
“Your eyes,” he nearly whispers, “they’re white.”
“White?” is the only thing your throat can release.
“Completely.” he exhales, “They have no color, no pupil. Are you able to see? Are you in pain?”
He takes a step closer to you, his form darkening what little light surrounds you. No fear fills your chest as you admit you cannot see, along with the hidden admittance that you are now at his will if he intended to abuse this.
“Why?” he asks, seemingly leaning in to study your eyes.
A laugh breaks across your features, “Why?” You giggle, “You believe I chose to strip myself of a comfort I am used to?”
“You laugh, yet I am confused. This is not something you have chosen, then?”
“No,” you smile with a sigh, “I have not chosen it but I will be alright. Though, at the moment I cannot see much of anything outside of shape and color.”
Loki sounds perplexed, “This happens often enough you have concluded rather quickly that all is well. What causes such a thing?”
You shrug, “Loki, had I woken up and been permanently blind in any way it would not ruin a life for me. However, yes this can happen often in universes that are mine.”
“That did not answer my question, Goddess.”
“Well,” you explain, “there are different ways to enter a universe. Most commonly is by waking up there, it is my preferred method. However, you can enter by speaking to someone, by falling and having someone catch you, and sometimes you enter by sitting with someone as they describe in detail the surroundings to visually connect you to the universe.”
“Would you like me to try and help you?” Loki asks, “To describe things for you to bridge the gap?”
You think for a moment, “I would appreciate the aid, I am desperate to see the sky.” You turn your head back to the horizon before setting your shoulders square to Loki.
“How do I begin?” he questions.
“You can begin to describe the place we are, where we stand and the items around us so I can try to locate them.” You answer, “Sometimes describing yourself and the clothing helps, it may also help to ground me in what I am wearing and what I look like.”
He clears his throat and begins, “We stand at the edge of the garden park on the terrace that overlooks hills and valleys of greenery. The flowers around us have all closed for the night, the moon light bouncing off the various colored bulbs.” He inhales and swallows, looking around.
“You stand at the highest point of the curved railing, left hand on the cool stone as you face me.” He pauses, takes a step to his left and returns. A floral scent reaches your nose, “A light pink flower sits a feathers length from your face, it's the only flower in the garden that opens at night and closes during the day.” He pauses once more, allowing you time to study the shape of pink in front of you, “Have you regained any detail, Goddess?”
You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I haven't. I don't believe there are enough items that surround us out here that I know the details of. Typically I am in my room.” You smile softly, “It’s alright, I will probably wake with my eyes back in the morning.”
Loki exhales slowly as he thinks, “My hair is pushed behind my ears which hold rings of silver and blue crystals,” you see his head turn to the side, looking down, “I am wearing a deep blue cloak that covers the left side of my body as it falls to the ground from the silver chain that anchors it to the black crest pin on my chest just below the collar of my shirt.”
You watch and listen as the outline of his form becomes more defined, colors becoming less blended.
“Below my cloak sits a black tunic, embroidered with silver and light blue thread that tell the story of why the sea is salt.” His cloak begins to form in long lines of navy as he continues, your eyes falling down the slopes, “My right arm is covered by the same cloth, though the bracer I wear is causing the sleeve to bunch up slightly. The bracer itself is a black stained leather, embossed with the serpent and wrapped in a dark blue strap that matches my cloak.”
His arm turns over itself as he finds more details, “The silver work continues on the leather, rings and studs which follow the shape of my arm.” Loki’s arm drops as his shirt begins to form shadows and highlights, the shape becoming more than a blob. He looks down to his body, “My tunic is tucked into a pair of black riding pants that are held with a silver and blue belt; the ends of either leg ending as my boots hit my knees, made of the same leather that's on my arm. Though I do not see any studs of silver, the rings wrap themselves around my legs.”
Loki inhales as if he forgot to breathe the entire time and straightens himself. You watch as the cloth around his body slowly starts to take form and details start to set in. Your eyes trail around his dress as you take in each detail he shared and more. In appreciation, you forget to say that the descriptions he has provided helps. In fear they haven't, Loki goes on to describe you.
“You,” Loki exhales, “Goddess, you stand before me draped in a throw.” What should be an insult sounds like the highest compliment, “It is embroidered with the flowers of the garden, ones that have grown here for thousands of years are remembered in the brown cloth that embraces you. It caps your shoulders and nearly touches the ground, making your stature look shorter in the massive length of the blanket.” You inhale as a response, watching still as the broach on his chest becomes more detailed with the emblem of the court while it rises and falls quicker than when it first appeared for you.
“Your hair falls around your face, pulled lightly by the gravity of Asgard. You wear no jewelry now, and your clothes beneath the throw appear to be nightdress. The cotton lays against you in a cast of green, complimenting the brown of the blanket and the dances of color in your eyes.” Your eyes move from his rising chest to his adorational stare, “Goddess, your eyes have their color back.”
You look at Loki once more, taking in every detail and more before responding. “Blue suits you, God.”
“Your eyes suit you, Goddess.” A smile falls into the eyes of the God of Mischief, the moonlight holding him hostage before you.
“Blue and silver seem to be against your claimed palette, or do I have the wrong universe?” You chide him as his breathing returns.
Loki rolls his eyes, “It is required of everyone to honor the spirits with blue this week.”
Your eyebrows furrow, “I seem to be quite uninformed on the holidays I’m interrupting.”
“This week is the festival for the water spirits,” he explains, “I was on my way to call on you for tonight's activities as you missed the first.”
“The first?” You tilt your head, “How on earth did I miss the first night if I only slept for one?”
“Goddess,” Loki says, “You haven’t emerged from your room for three days.”
“Three days?” You gape.
Loki nods and continues, “Would you like to join the festivities and make up for the lost time?”
You look around Loki and to the palace entrance near the court hall to see it surrounded with people, light flooding the archways. “It seems it would be appropriate. Though I would not be misguided after missing the first evening?”
“Not at all,” he shakes his head, “the court will see it as an honorable entrance as you refused to take the opening night away from the water spirits. Or, at least that is the explanation they will serve in response to any disrespect.”
“I see,” you sigh, “I must change, I suppose. How could one show up by your side in a throw, let alone off theme?” You laugh to yourself and beam in the smile Loki gives you.
“Yes, I suppose going off theme in a water festival would be very ill-mannered.”
“Let’s not keep them waiting any longer, God.” You laugh again, taking Loki’s arm as he leads you to your chambers to ready.