I stumble back a few steps, then indignantly open my mouth to complain about the person watching where they walk, when I finally get a good look at them. It’s a small girl, probably between five and eight. She had fallen from colliding with me. Her skin is the color of raw caramel, and where her feet are not caked with mud, they are bare. Her hair is gold. Not blonde, actually golden and shining. She was clothed in a simple, tan, cotton dress, and a thin wool shawl. Her hair is uneven at the ends; showing that she plays with it often. The young girl’s nails are chewed short, as if she nibbles them, either while excited or bored. Her eyes are like two black holes; deep, dark, and with no iris or pupil. She blinks at me with a surprise, then breaks out in a grin, revealing that her front tooth is missing. “Nemaw! He’s awake!” She doesn’t ask for my help, and I don’t offer it, as she moves to stand. I hear the voice of an older woman call out. “Is he now?” I hear her grunt, then walk over. Her eyes are the same black orbs as the little girl’s, but her hair is thin and white, and her skin is a decent several shades darker. She has permanent scowl lines across her face, and walks with an elegantly carved wooden cane. However, despite her age, she has the signs of a woman who is quite lovely in her prime. “See, Nemaw?” The little girl asks, walking over to the woman. “So he is.” They both stare at me for a second, as if appraising me, before I clear my throat awkwardly. “And… who might you be?” “I’m Arya!” The little girl says cheerfully. The woman just watches me for a moment more. She finally speaks, her voice gruff. “You may call me Seer, boy.” “Seer? As in one who sees the future?” I ask curiously, in spite of myself. She simply scowls, so Arya pipes up brightly. “No silly! See-er. Like the one who sees, or has seen. The eldest. The one who has seen it all.” She giggles. Seer crosses her hands over each other, and looks me in the eye. “And who are you then, boy?” I hesitate. “Loki.” I respond simply, not sure if the rest of my name really belongs to me anymore. I’m not an Odinson anymore, and I never want to be Laufeyson. I’m no longer a prince, but I’m not some common peasant either. Seer frowns, but she seems to get the point. Arya runs over and grabs my hand, causing me to jump. “Come on! Nemaw got some clothes for you!” I hesitate, then let the small girl lead me into the main room. The main room is similar to the others, with the same brick and fur on the walls. The decor is simple. There is a stone table in the middle, with shallow holes around it for people to sit in. The room itself is round, and has doorways on most of the wall. None of them has an actual door, so I can see outside. On the table is a pair of leather sandals, a basic pair of cotton trousers, and a brown shirt made of some rough fabric that I don’t recognize. I am offended by the simplicity of them. Who do they think I am?! I open my mouth to express my indignation and disgust, but a sharp look from Seer shuts me up. I begrudgingly accept the clothing from Arya. She points to the only room without lighting. “You can change in there.” I realize that the darkness is the closest anyone gets to privacy here. I huff, and storm over to the room. Looks like my time here will be “just lovely”.
Still trying to figure out what to call it, but anyway, here’s chapter 3! Also, as always, this is just an experiment to see how writing goes. I would love tips from anyone who writes. <3 Loki character by Marvel Story by me Past lives by sentient dreams
