Pochikohaku

Conviction (A Loki Drabble) "Even I don't know what it does. Should we find out?" A Midgardian. Average height and weight. Caucasian. Straight mouse-brown hair. Balding. Sharp but otherwise unremarkable eyes. A weathered sadness in them, but only noticeable if one squinted. A large nose. A plain charcoal gray suit and a plain black tie, tailored acceptably, but nothing stunning. Tidy and normal and the picture of "sufficient." Holding a large bazooka that Loki could recognize, from ten feet away, was built from Destroyer technology. From his own grave miscalculation, in New Mexico, so many months ago--or was it years? Loki had lost track of

Cruelly enough the day the funeral was held it was absolutely sunny. Not just regular old sunny, but picture perfect sunny, with little cotton ball clouds drifting softly through the air, without a care in the world, like you would see on a post card from the Bahamas. If Mother Nature actually cared, she would have been smart and made it overcast to match the moods of the Avengers—sad, but not willing to give any actual tears, with hints of bitterness and regret, that should have been the weather for the funeral, but no, it was going to be picture perfect and aggravate everyone involved. Steve originally thought it was stupid to curse th