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….
I probably would have stood there hugging this miracle for a week, penetrating deeper and deeper into the essence of ice magic and comprehending the techniques of creating these spells, so unlike anything I possessed before… had it not been for Gungnir's displeasure reflected in my head, and something akin to an electric shock passing through my right arm from the spear.
The regalia of the Aesir Kings didn't like my admiration for another royal regalia. And even if the obstinate weapon wasn't going to rebel, having recognized me as its master, it didn't stop it from expressing its "phew" toward "some" Jotuns and their "dull blue bricks."
But yes, perhaps now really isn't the time or place, I can study the Casket in more detail later, but for now…
"How do I look?" I asked the girl.
"…" eyes were raised to my face, blinking thoughtfully a couple of times, after which little shoulders shrugged, like, who cares? All you boys look the same.
"Is the skin blue?" I demanded clearer definitions.
"…" nod.
"Eyes red?"
"…" nod again.
"Are there patterns on the face?"
"…" another one.
"Are you going to stay silent like this?" I couldn't resist.
"(>_>)…" the girl became fully immersed in interest in the shining wall behind which the treasury guard was hiding, about whom, true, she couldn't know.
"Fine," I send the Casket of Winters into my own pocket dimension and listen to my sensations for a second, but no, the creation of Jotunheim turned out to be much less picky than Gungnir and expressed no protests, although I continued to feel a connection with it. "Let's go back, I did everything I wanted," I call the girl…
And I also begin to feel goosebumps running over my body with the disappearance of the Casket from my hands, and along with them, my appearance rapidly returning to its normal state.
….
The next morning. Earth. Puente Antiguo.
I had been watching Thor for ten minutes already.
Thor, who was cooking breakfast.
For those who know Thor, a psychedelic picture. I mean, he was capable of skinning a boar on a hunt and putting it on a spit over a fire, but even that he did only a couple of times in my memory.
Usually, Volstagg was the cook in the squad, as the most interested and therefore responsible "person" in this matter.
But no, the God of Thunder in exile was calmly whipping up an omelet on an electric Earth stove and clearly waiting for the company of climatologists, or whoever they are, to the table.
"Don't forget to salt it."
"Yes, right. Thank you, Loki…" the big guy answered reflexively. "Loki?" Oh, what big eyes! "Loki, brother!"
They tried to grab me in a wide embrace but rushed through the illusion, almost knocking over the dining table.
"If you're trying to strangle me, make a simpler face…"
"Me? What? No!" the former Thunderer was somewhat indignant, but stopped trying to kiss the phantom.
"And yes, I'm glad to see you too… When did you learn to use a stove?" I couldn't resist voicing the question itching inside.
"It's not hard at all!" the blond perked up, returning to his previous place. "You change the temperature with this thing, and stir with this one," he pointed alternately to the stove knob and then the spatula, "can't use a knife," the Thunderer continued to enlighten me busily, "you can scratch the coating. Midgardian dishes are very fragile! And the recipes are written in this book!" I was shown something like a pamphlet titled: "How to cook a simple and hearty breakfast."
"By the way, turn it off, or it'll burn," I advised, trying not to show with my face how the back of my skull was itching.
"Oh! Yes, of course," the big guy rushed to follow the advice, simultaneously moving the frying pan to the adjacent burner.
But after this action, he hesitated, and silence fell in the kitchen. A rather uncomfortable silence, at least for one Aesir with a short blond beard.
"I… You…" Thor tried to say something, sliding his eyes over my face… and fell silent.
"You are eloquent as always," I sighed. "Well, tell me."
"What?" he didn't understand.
"I roughly know how you came to such a life," I portray something on my face that should express sympathy, but I could be honest with myself, I didn't do very well. "How are you doing here?"
"Strange, unusual," the man sighed with his mighty chest, lowering his blue eyes to the floor. "If not for Lady Jane, I suppose it would have been much harder."
"Lady Jane?" I pretended not to know who he was talking about.
"A mortal who helped me. I am deeply in her debt."
"You are somehow suspiciously benevolent for someone who quarreled to pieces with his beloved father and was stripped of his powers…"
"I…" Thor was clearly embarrassed, continuing to tear my template apart.
That is, I recalled that in the movies he often portrayed a sort of awkward-shy village simpleton, but the original Loki's memory remembered him only as a stubborn narcissistic ram.
Very positive and even captivating with his charisma, but still a narcissistic ram whom even the biggest screw-ups in his life couldn't embarrass.
"I got hit on the head pretty hard a few times," the man finally gave out with a sigh of a person admitting a bitter but important reality.
"Is that…" I make a vague gesture with my hand in the air, "something good?"
"I was the Mighty Thor all my life," Odin's son walked to the nearest chair and sank heavily onto it, leaning his elbows on his knees, "and in Midgard, first I got hit by a car, then stunned with a taser… It's a thing that hits with small lightning bolts through copper threads. Then I was twisted by healer's assistants in the local house of healers, then hit by a car again, and when I went to return Mjolnir… Well, I scattered everyone there, but… The Hammer refused to go with me," the Asgardian finished listing his adventures with weary bitterness. "And now I… don't know."
"You mean to say you felt on yourself what it's like to be weak, and now you are rethinking whether you were so good all your past life?"
"Yes…" as if just realizing this, Thor responded, raising a surprised-brightened gaze to me. "That's it!"
"Charming," I shake my head, estimating how such a mass smartening of sons wouldn't accidentally finish off Odin. Too many shocking impressions, it's dangerous for an old, worn-out organism.
Thor didn't have time to ask what exactly I consider charming, but he definitely wanted to. I see by his slightly bewildered mug, he wanted to!
Why didn't he have time? Well, the climatologists, or whoever they are if named correctly, began to descend for breakfast. However, what's the difference?
"Wow…" a short girl with glasses and dark brown hair appeared first. Appeared, saw me in Asgardian clothes, albeit without armor elements, at which she instantly stumbled.
"Ja-a-ane!" raising her voice, she called to the side, not taking her eyes off me.
"There's, uh… Another one?" the earthling finished the thought with a clearly questioning intonation, even pulling her head into her shoulders somewhat guiltily, still not breaking eye contact with me.
"Who's 'another one'?" the second lady appeared on the stairs, looking questioningly at her friend, but almost immediately shifted her gaze to Thor and me. "Oh…"
"What's going on with y…" started a third voice belonging to a man, but cut off earlier than the previous ones.
….
If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.
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