This is my therapeutic painting. I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and draw the lightest thing I’ve ever done. It’s actually a remake of an old Loki painting that some of you might recognize. The funny thing is that the sh*ttier I feel, the brighter my paintings are.
You and Sylvie have been on the run causing chaos in every branch that dared to bloom off the Sacred Timeline. Though, when you find yourselves in a new apocalypse, full of vile raiders, quiet becomes your cause.
Your chest was an engine. It must have been with all of the heaving, with the fire that burned through your lungs as you ran past the abandoned storefronts of the South Shore Plaza. The mall had been left for rising waters of the Massachusetts Bay. Within hours, hurricane Typhine would rage and swallow a majority of the East Coast of the United States.
That was why you and Sylvie portaled there, to 2061. The rising level of the Atlantic ocean was marketed as a slow apocalypse, a sluggishly growing doom since the late 2010s. Yet, despite the early warning, and the ample time to try to correct their destructive behavior, the people of Earth were taken by surprise. The haphazard way the South Shore Plaza was deserted was evidence enough of that.
However, deserted was not quite the right word, you thought. You were, after all, running away from looters, fools stubborn and stupid enough to risk the vicious prevailing winds. They knew the mall halls too well and managed to split you and Sylvie up. The fact that you lost sight of her, her shining blonde hair, only added to the stress searing in your chest.
The shouts of your pursuers only served to stoke the flames, which made your every breath sting something furious.
As you ran along the second floors’ main thoroughfare, you sent a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder. They were gaining on you. You could see their panting scowls and curled fists. When you looked forward, your terror drove you to the right and off the straightaway walking path.
Sadly, your turn led you to a dead end. Store fronts, one for shoes and another for long gowns, held you on either side. There was no means to escape and the screeching of the looters began to cinch your fate. All you could do was try to hide and hope Sylvie used the TemPad to save herself.
In a rush of panic, you rushed into the gown shop. The door gave way under your pushing hands and, as you darted inside, you nearly tripped over a discarded dress. The large, sequined skirt caught your foot and dragged you towards the floor. You prepared yourself for a sudden and hard impact, which would be followed by the looters finding you seconds after.
Just as you bit back a yelp of fear, you stopped falling.
“C’mon, love,” Sylvie’s voice came out in a harsh whisper as she pulled you on your feet. “To the staff room.”
Leaning on Sylvie’s shoulder, you made your way towards the door she had gestured to. The stomping strides of your pursuers grew louder as you stumbled inside the dark of the back room. Sylvie pulled you along, dodging tables sent akilter and belongings, like sweatshirts and work uniforms, left behind by frazzled employees. In the shadows, you tried to look for a place to hide; but it seemed your companion had other plans.
Sylvie reached her free hand out and waved her fingers. A sparkling dance of green magic followed after her movements and peeled back an illusionary wall, revealing yet another door. You eyed Sylvie as she led you towards it.
“How did-”
“Just get in!” Sylvie whisper-shouted as she opened the door. You stumbled inside, nearly tripping, again, on a bucket that sat on the floor. Luckily, you were able to catch yourself before you fell as Sylvie was busy recreating her illusion and shutting the door behind you both.
As it shut, pure darkness settled around you both. After a few slow blinks, your eyes began to adjust and you could make out the outline of Sylvie’s face. Neither of you dared to say another word. The only sound that filled the small space of the cleaning closet was your winded breaths. On its own, the loud panting made listening for the looters more difficult.
Just as you and Sylvie managed to calm your breathing, the hurricane siren rang out. You stiffened at the sound but did not make a peep. Your yelp of surprise slipped past your lips when a loud crash jostled the magically hidden door of the closet.
Immediately, Sylvie leaned in towards you and pressed one of her palms over your mouth. Her body pressed against yours, allowing you to, despite the dark, look directly and deeply into her eyes. There was a chill caught in the cloak and leathers she wore that soothed the burning dread that held your every muscle taut. You could not look at anything else; all you saw was Sylvie.
Eventually, your focus on her sharpened, and the rooting around of the looters became a dull rumble. A looming threat of death reduced to a background noise by the power of Sylvie’s touch. Against your lips, her hand was cold, a sensation that you encountered a few times. You always assumed it was a lingering touch of her Frost Giant lineage. She didn’t talk to you about her past, not in great detail. You learned not to press her on it.
She would come to you, in time. Sylvie would tell you her story when the need to jump from ending world to ending world passed; when vengeance was had at last. You could settle down with her maybe, if she wanted you, if she wanted to. You wanted to, that much you knew.
Before you could peer deeper into the shining blue of her eyes, Sylvie started to pull away. Her face turned towards the door and you realized the sounds of angry rooting around had passed. Only the drone of the siren remained, along with the wild whipping of the wind.
“They’ve gone,” she whispered as her palm fell away from your mouth. As her hand slipped off, you reached up and grabbed her wrist softly. Sylvie’s eyes flicked back to you, her brow furrowed. “What is it?”
For a moment, you bit your tongue. Life with Sylvie was always go, go, go. There was never quite a moment to just savor the quiet, to settle even if only for a second. Then, Sylvie’s concern deepened and she leaned back towards you.
“Just needed…” You needed her, but you knew better than to push intimacy forward.
“Needed?” Her voice was still a whisper, “Y/N?”
You struggled to find the proper response. What could you say that was true? What could you say that was true but wouldn’t frighten Sylvie? A breath? No, you caught that long ago.
Yet, Sylvie, being the goddess of mischief, an agent of chaos, an apocalyptic wanderer, always did her best to steal it away again. As you grappled with what to say, the blonde leaned in closer, and then closer, and closer. Closer until her lips landed on yours in the dark. Immediately you melted into Sylvie’s touch. All at once, it was quiet in the closet again.
So, it seemed that not all questions needed an answer, at least not right away. Although, the kiss was ultimately the correct response. The kiss was something you wanted, not quite something you knew you needed. But in the storm around you, Sylvie’s touch grounded you gloriously.
I grew up in the deep south. Fishing, swimming, always with one eye looking out for these guys and I just… I cannot express the sheer randomness of my new obsession with this adorablereptilebaby.He steals every scene for me and I want to bring him home like yesterday.
