laying her head on @vexingvariant’s stomach. no questioning her, she just wants to be close.

watching.

flops on 𝐋oki..

splayed dramatically in the middle of the floor.

🧍‍♀️

➶-͙˚ ༘✶

squints.

sitting. . . scowling.

she knows he’s there, but she hasn’t turned her glare on him— y e t.

“What do you want?” she inquired flatly, sharp blue eyes blinking once before finding him. Has Sylvie ever known a good mood in her life?

A huff of her own, lazy eyes flicking to stare ahead again as her chin rests in her palm, the weight of her head squishing her cheek against her fingers. “I’m awake,” she grumbles, simply. It’s too early, and she hardly slept.

The chuckling grates on already tense nerves, but she only frowns and averts her eyes further. Clearly, this Prince doesn’t understand. Mumbling, “Well you are not me.”

Her demeanor softens around the edges, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦, at his apology, another soft breath escaping her nose. She doesn’t move much, but also isn’t telling him to beat it. “I’m— sorry too,” she muttered quietly, face scrunching up at the words, “I’m just exhausted.”

Maybe not a Loki word, but it could be a 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 one? After all, subverting their ‘ true nature ’ has kind of become their whole thing. . . Shrugging her shoulders, “It’s not that easy.” Spending your entire life running away has a way of making one a fitful sleeper.

Sylvie’s not sure anything comes naturally to her anymore. That is, except for the disgruntled crease that forms between her brows when her head turns to look at him, her voice as disbelieving as it is disgruntled, “Can you really just sleep anywhere you lie down?”

A scoff, and a turn of her head that’s dangerously close to rolling her eyes, “Transform into an animal— right.” Pursing her lips, there’s a pause before her gaze returns to him, “Not all of us have been afforded such. . . luxuries in life.”