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Description
The first thing Loki remembered was pain. This was a somewhat novel concept to the Asgardian God of Mischief. Exceedingly durable, strong, and trained as a warrior, Loki did not often take a beating. It was true, when he could avoid a fight, he would, but when he did fight, he fought to win. He had considered himself fairly successful at it until now. Not even The Hulk’s beating during the Battle of New York equaled this.

It felt like every bone in his body was made of glass, razor blades and gravel. His skin ached and prickled, burned in places, all signs of damage to which he was unaccustomed to suffering. The surprise of it wrenched a scream from the trickster’s throat. Or it would have been a scream, had any real noise come out. Instead, a croaking, dry sound like ancient paper issued forth. It didn’t do the sensation in his body justice in the slightest.

Forcing one reluctant eye open, all Loki could see were blurry lights, moving shapes in different colors. People? It sounded like talking, beeping, the clang of metal. Where was he? What had happened? He tried to sit up to look around and failed at even lifting his head. The beeping noise seemed louder, closer.

Focus came to him only slowly as he tested first his hands. Fingers moved, that was good. Next, Loki attempted to summon his seiðr. As long as he had his magic, he would be fine. He could veil himself, heal, escape whatever this was.

Instead of the reassuring green essence of the sorcerer’s power flowing through him, Loki both saw and felt white lightning. It jolted through his body with staggering agony, actually managing to rip a noise from his previously soundless throat. He sounded like a wounded animal, yelping and growling until it passed, leaving him breathless and limp.

"Он попробовал еще раз, доктор," a female voice noted with a tinge of concern. A male murmur of acknowledgement came in response.

He tried again, Doctor.

"Когда он будет учиться? Доктор, что, если он не может остановить его? Мы не знаем, как работает его власть. Мы не сможем узнать больше, если мы убьем его!" Her voice grew louder in objection.

When will he learn? Doctor, what if he cannot stop it? We do not know how his power works. We will not be able to learn more if we kill him!

"Он научится!" The reply was barked, unsympathetic.

He will learn!

The female said nothing more.

Dazed, Loki realized belatedly that they meant him. Learn what? In the background, more words, a kind of litany being spoken as he blacked out again.

желание [Longing]
ржaвый [Rusted]
Семнадцать [Seventeen]
Рассвет [Daybreak]
Печь [Furnace]
Девять [Nine]
добросердечный [Benign]
возвращение на родину [Homecoming]
Один [One]
грузовой вагон [Freightcar]

[Read more: www.roleplaylives.net/blog/250… ]

Description
The first thing Loki remembered was pain. This was a somewhat novel concept to the Asgardian God of Mischief. Exceedingly durable, strong, and trained as a warrior, Loki did not often take a beating. It was true, when he could avoid a fight, he would, but when he did fight, he fought to win. He had considered himself fairly successful at it until now. Not even The Hulk’s beating during the Battle of New York equaled this.

It felt like every bone in his body was made of glass, razor blades and gravel. His skin ached and prickled, burned in places, all signs of damage to which he was unaccustomed to suffering. The surprise of it wrenched a scream from the trickster’s throat. Or it would have been a scream, had any real noise come out. Instead, a croaking, dry sound like ancient paper issued forth. It didn’t do the sensation in his body justice in the slightest.

Forcing one reluctant eye open, all Loki could see were blurry lights, moving shapes in different colors. People? It sounded like talking, beeping, the clang of metal. Where was he? What had happened? He tried to sit up to look around and failed at even lifting his head. The beeping noise seemed louder, closer.

Focus came to him only slowly as he tested first his hands. Fingers moved, that was good. Next, Loki attempted to summon his seiðr. As long as he had his magic, he would be fine. He could veil himself, heal, escape whatever this was.

Instead of the reassuring green essence of the sorcerer’s power flowing through him, Loki both saw and felt white lightning. It jolted through his body with staggering agony, actually managing to rip a noise from his previously soundless throat. He sounded like a wounded animal, yelping and growling until it passed, leaving him breathless and limp.

"Он попробовал еще раз, доктор," a female voice noted with a tinge of concern. A male murmur of acknowledgement came in response.

He tried again, Doctor.

"Когда он будет учиться? Доктор, что, если он не может остановить его? Мы не знаем, как работает его власть. Мы не сможем узнать больше, если мы убьем его!" Her voice grew louder in objection.

When will he learn? Doctor, what if he cannot stop it? We do not know how his power works. We will not be able to learn more if we kill him!

"Он научится!" The reply was barked, unsympathetic.

He will learn!

The female said nothing more.

Dazed, Loki realized belatedly that they meant him. Learn what? In the background, more words, a kind of litany being spoken as he blacked out again.

желание [Longing]
ржaвый [Rusted]
Семнадцать [Seventeen]
Рассвет [Daybreak]
Печь [Furnace]
Девять [Nine]
добросердечный [Benign]
возвращение на родину [Homecoming]
Один [One]
грузовой вагон [Freightcar]

[Read more: www.roleplaylives.net/blog/250… ]