Loki sighed and rested his chin in his hand, lounging in his chair. Looking forward, eyes unseeing of what was in front of him; he was, to be perfectly frank, bored .
Hi brother was across the room, loud and boisterous as always with Sif and the Warriors Three, he could hear his laughter, loud enough to break through his internal reverie, and couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Thor’s entire body was crackling with lightning, his voice booming with thunder, causing a spark of jealousy to roll through Loki’s entire body, his lip curling in irritation. People still worshipped Thor, his power was never waning; while Loki never worried about his power leaving him - chaos was everywhere after all - nobody wished for Chaos. Wanted Chaos. It was a thing people caused unwittingly, which was enough to keep him going but not much beyond that. It was frustrating, to say the least.
Another dramatic sigh, and Loki conjured more wine into his goblet for a sip that was nearly spat out in surprise as he felt a surge in his power. A moment later and he could see the explosions throughout a cave system in some desert land on Midgard.
It took another minute before he could focus well enough to find the human that worshipped him so suddenly and unexpectedly - unintentionally he was sure. But however unintentional that worship was, it was certainly effective. The phrase popped into his head, unbidden, from his new worshipper; ‘Go big, or go home.’
He watched as the man in the metal flying suit - he was fascinated but that was for another time - started falling back into the sand. He landed, hard, and then lay there unmoving.
Loki frowned when the man didn’t move to get up right away and stood up from his seat, absently making his excuses as he left the grand hall and stepped through the branches of Yggdrasil to land on Midgard, another quick teleport bringing him immediately to his new disciple’s side.
He still hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen, and Loki could feel that his strength, his life, was being leeched away from his injuries. A wave of his hand and the metal suit appeared next to the man, and he kneeled down to see to the injuries.
It was a matter of moments before the worst of the injuries were cared for with magic; he wasn’t a healer, he couldn’t care for them as they needed to be, but brute force with his magic could do enough to keep the mortal alive at least.
With a gasp, his eyes opened and Loki was staring into deep brown eyes, captivated by them. They weren’t entirely focused, the man still not entirely coherent of what was going on - he’d be surprised if the man remembered him later. But, it was a good sign that he’d be alright.
Loki leaned down and brushed his lips against his forehead briefly, marking him with magic, gifting him with a Blessing. As the man - he briefly searched through his connection to him to get a name, Tony - slowly started to come to a bit more, he turned himself invisible to watch over him for now.
It didn’t take long for Tony to start waving down the aircraft flying toward him, and the moment a man exited it yelling his disciple’s name and they embraced, Loki took a step out of the desert, away from Midgard, a smile on his face.
He could barely remember the last time someone worshipped him, but every time he’d had one in the past it had been..interesting. He looked forward to what would come of this one.