Darker Side of the Sun

((We can do a time skip! :3))

He was taken back to his penthouse straight from the jet where he angrily demanded to be alone. It had been an effort to walk on his own, to the bedroom where he cried out in pain as his wings reappeared, hanging around him like a bloody dark sheet. It took almost two days for the crippling pain to recede and he was able to stand and move without being in excruciating pain. He managed to get a shower, eat something and do some push-ups, gritting his teeth against the sharp pains. Finally, when the pain was nothing more than a throbbing reminder, he sat on the edge of the bed, pulled his wings out and stretched the damaged wing around so he could see the damage. Luckily, she hadn't severed anything serious. He'd still be able to fly again but it would take some time to heal the thin membrane covering his muscles and grow new feathers back. It had stopped bleeding a day ago but the wound itself was still a puffy, angry red. He ground his teeth in irritation, wanting nothing more than to declaw miss kitty as soon as he found her. He'd attempted Mr. Nice Guy, spoiling her in a way she hadn't seemed to appreciate. She'd been too Hell bent on her anger and hatred towards him to realize how good she had it. Not anymore. He had been testing her loyalty, preparing to use her for finding Ren but after this little stunt, he had no intentions of using her abilities. Now she would remain his pet and he'd do with her whatever he pleased. It was a pity she still entertained him or he would have just decided to kill her the next moment he had a chance. 

Beside him, he pulled a box towards him and pulled out a needle, sticking it between his teeth as he routed around for his thread. He'd only had to sew himself up twice in his lifetime. The first time, Ren had taught him how to do it and he'd had to sew up his other wing when he'd been a teenager. He'd gotten into a fight with an Angel more than double his size. He'd gotten cocky and decided he could easily take it down. The Angel had nearly ripped his wing off and he'd been forced to remain absolutely still for four days till the pain receded enough that he could sit up. He hadn't been able to reach the wound and had had Ren help him sew it up. It had taken nearly a month to heal and regrow feathers. The second time had been during the Holy War, when Ren had attacked him and nearly killed him. When he'd escaped, he'd had to sew up his own chest. He'd thought, at the time, that that had been the most excruciating pain he'd ever experienced. This wound wasn't nearly as deep as the other two but when he had landed on it, all the pain went bone deep. He confirmed he hadn't broken any bones but he knew he wasn't going to be able to move his wing very much in the next couple months. 

It was times like this he wished he'd inherited his brother's Magik; elemental Magik. Instead, he pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, holding the tip of the needle in the hot flame till the metal turned white hot. It was the first thing Ren had taught him. Wings were their most sensitive body part and keeping them free of wounds or infections was extremely important. If an infection started on the wings, it was a sure thing the wing would have to be cut off. Loki didn't want to give Ren the satisfaction of having a weakness and was going to make sure he covered all his bases. He found the thread and looped it through the tiny hole before tying the ends off. Well, here went nothing. 

A deep welling of anger surfaced at the sound of her voice and he froze in threading the needle, his blue eyes meeting hers. Immediately, all emotions and expressions vanished from his face and eyes, leaving him scarily mysterious. Around the room, the shadows instantly seemed to move. They didn't surround or take over the room but it was obvious they were there. He lowered his arms and glared at her. With a wince, his wings disappeared, returning to a tattoo on his back. "You have some nerve showing your face back here, accident or not." he told her. And now she was offering to help? It was like beating the dog then offering it a treat. But he couldn't contain the wicked spark of amusement when she said "semi-happy accident". It was almost something he would have said. Except, he wouldn't have come crawling back in guilt. He would have accepted what happened and moved on, accepting whatever consequences would follow. But she had a fragile human heart and her guilt had brought her back, no doubt attempting to avoid such consequences. "And what makes you think I'll let you anywhere near my wings?" he asked her, wincing again as a throbbing vibrated up his spine from his wounded wing. Keeping them closed in like this was a lot more painful then letting them hang loose. Especially when he hadn't sewn up the tear yet. "What if I decide to grab you and lock you up, letting you scream and scream till your throat bleeds and starve you to an inch of your life? The threat hung heavy between them and the shadows around the room seemed to quiver with anticipation. 

He blinked. Even after all of this, she still had enough feisty to whip up a quick come back and throw it back in his face. Human emotions were strange and their decisions were also stranger. For many years, Loki had pondered the difference in Angels and demons compared to humans. In all honesty, each species had been created by a Divine Being with different ideas on creationism. For instance, the Goddess had decided to make her children in her exact replica. She had made a mistake with her first creations by gifting them with Magik so then she made the Angels, perfectly in her image in every way, minus the Magik. But her first children, the Demi-Gods who were jealous of the Angels, taught them Magik, to corrupt them and damage them. Hence, the demons were born. Humans though? Were entirely fragile creatures with emotions that ran high one moment but could drop at at the drop of a hat. Loki and Ren both had attempted to understand the fragile minds of humans for years, using their knowledge to manipulate and destroy. Sodom and Gomorrah were prime examples of their mind manipulation.  Even though Loki knew a lot about the humans as a species, everyday there was something new that surprised him. Anya, for example, never ceased to surprise him. He was keeping her as a pet and twice now, he'd given her the option to take off and never come back and each time, she came back, just as feisty as ever. This brought a chuckle out of him and he smirked. And if there was one thing he'd learned from humans, it was that once in a while, you had to take a chance. His wings unfurled, stretching across the room like enormous banners before he brought them close, resting casually behind him. He held out the needle and thread, a daring twinkle in his eye. "Go on then. But I better get some donuts after this." And just like, he was back to that mischievous boy who had invited her on a trip to Greece.

Honestly, Loki had never cared for humans, let alone the other supernatural creatures of the world. In fact, he'd never really cared about anyone besides himself since the day he was born. It was just a part of who he was. Lacking a soul tended to make many feel this way. He had never cared what sort of werecat she was when he'd made her his "pet". He had only cared about her frostiness towards him. She took the needle and settled herself onto the bed beside him and the instant her hand touched his wing, he felt himself drawing in breath. Loki had never truly appreciated the pleasures of life as most humans did. Like sex, for example. The act itself had bored him. He tended to stay away from any encounters that were meant to fuddle the mind and bring pleasure to the body. But never had he had someone else touch him. Her mere touch send shivers along his wing and up his spin, jolting something inside him he hadn't felt in thousands of years. He turned his blue eyes to look at her, a mysterious storm brewing inside them as he listened to her words. When she paused, asking him a question, he took a moment to actually ponder a response but it was quickly forgotten when she returned to his wing, once more brushing against his feathers. He felt himself shudder and a small groan escape him before he realized what had just happened. Heart pounding, he yanked his wing from her grasp, his breathing heavy. He wasn't even worried about stitching it up the rest of the way.

"No matter what you consider yourself, you were still created by a different Divine Ruler than me and my brethren and no matter what infliction you have, you are all still the same; you're ruled by your feelings and actions. Even a tiger feels the need to find comfort in others it calls family or to have a family to follow the call of nature. Throw even the hardest of criminals into solitary and they go crazy without human interaction. Werecat or human, it makes no different. You still rely on your emotions to get you where you need to go." He was one to speak. The emotion rising up inside him from her touch on his wing had triggered other sensory indicators he hadn't felt in a long time. He could smell her in a way he hadn't smelled her before and he found himself drawn to the curve of her body and the way the light from the window fell on her just right. Lust welled up inside his stomach and he angrily shoved them back down. She was a pet, nothing more. He hated to admit it, but he needed her to finish sewing up his wing. Immediately, like a light switch was flipped off, his eyes closed up, shutting off his emotions once more as he tentatively stuck out his wing again, determined not to let his wing's sensitivity distract him. After all, he needed to find a way to punish her. If he didn't, she'd continue to walk all over him and he couldn't have that. 

He let a sly smirk cross his face as she stitched up his wing. Scared of Ren? Everyone should have been afraid of Ren. Not only did he wield powerful Elemental Magik, he also wielded a Divine Weapon. Besides the fact that it was a black scythe, Ren appeared very much like the Grim Reaper and Loki had no doubt Ren would kill anyone who got in his way. Like him, Ren had no humanity. Growing up together, they had learned to understand how each other operated and Ren had been merciless and uncaring whereas Loki tended to play around first. Loki had enjoyed the chaos and control he'd exerted over the humans whereas Ren easily grew tired of them and disposed of them. Loki's reasoning for being in Vegas and engorging himself in attention wasn't far from Anya's depiction but she didn't know him well enough to fully understand. Of course he loved surrounding himself with humans, going to galas and throwing huge parties but only because he enjoyed influencing the innocent and fragile minds of the humans he came into contact with. How easy it was to find the Bride-To-Be at the bar, offering to put all her drinks on his tab and then watch her life literally fall apart later in the night when she was caught making out with the very bartender who fed her the drinks all night. Same with his war lord status. He enjoyed the power that came with terrifying said humans. Most human minds couldn't comprehend the idea of magic and when he played around with it, he could easily terrify anyone by doing exactly what he'd done to Anya when he'd first confronted her. With fear came obedience and Loki honestly enjoyed being practically worshiped. The tattoo on his lower hip of the symbol of the God Loki from Norse mythology proved that. Loki had enjoyed the very top of the powerful ladder.

"And yet, tell me "pretty kitty"," He turned his full body towards her now, blue eyes deep and stormy, sly smile quirking at the corner of his lips and his voice a low purr.. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, bringing with it a heavy air of devilish intent. As he moved, his wing moved against her hand and he felt himself shudder in lust once more, his eyes closing as a growl rumbled deep in his chest. He took the needle from her and carefully laid it down on the bed before he hoisted himself up onto his knees and pushed his presence on her, hoping to push her back against the bed, his wings hanging above them like a dark macabre curtain threatening to shut them out from the world. There was no denying the dark storm in his blue eyes was a deep yearning he wasn't able to control. Loki had never allowed feelings such as this to overcome him. They told of weakness, of wanting something that was beneath him. Never had he wanted something besides himself. "Why do you bite the hand that feeds you only to return and lick the very hand you've bitten?"

"Mmmm." He grinned down at her, his face expressing amusement fixed with something much more devilish. "You know, not many humans would feel the same way you do. Not many would admit fault and return to face the consequences. Do you know how many hundreds of thousands of human's I've watched deny any wrong or simply run from it?" His voice was low as he reached out and pulled a stray hair forward, twirling the pink colored strand around his finger. "But that's right. You aren't human, are you? No, you're something much different which makes you all the more exciting." His eyes flashed mischievously and a smirk crossed his face. He leaned down towards her, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to hover above the skin of her shoulder, breathing in her scent. He knew his limits. After all, he had his wings exposed to her. He wasn't about to do something like he had at the airport. But that didn't mean he didn't have other ways of torturing her. He'd moved on from his punishment of starving her in a dungeon somewhere- which was extremely old school at this point- and instead, decided to irritate her. Not that he cared how  he irritated her, whether it was his actual interest in her or that he wouldn't give her anything. Not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind. But, he'd never allowed such weakness to distract him. Of course, for Loki, there had been plenty of women from almost every era but never had he let it be anything other than having an appearance. Often times, taking a women to bed was simply to blend in. But he hadn't played that game in a long time. Probably not since swords had stopped being used.

He moved from her shoulder, still not touching her and moved up, letting his breath tickle the softness of her neck as he breathed in deeply, He could feel the heat from her body radiating against his chest as he hovered above her. "That's right." he whispered against her ear. "You did make a promise. And you'll do well to remember that you're mind until you fullfill that promise. However, I believe a punishment is in order... Can't have you ripping out any more feathers like that..."

His smile never wavered. Instead, he seemed to lose all interest in whatever he'd been doing and sat back on his heels, pulling his wings into a casual rest behind him, the tops of them just visible over his shoulders. He didn't know whether to be amused or surprised by her questioning his use of punishment. It held no emotion and he had an idea that she was doing some serious holding back of just exactly how she was feeling. He guessed it all came with age. After all, he was far older than she was and he had a pretty good control on his emotions... except when she'd run her fingers through his feathers. He felt himself inwardly shudder at the thought. That brought out emotions he'd never used and wouldn't be able to control. He would need to be more careful in the future. Anya was simply his pet, his plaything. There was no need to start getting attached. 

"I've decided that your punishment is coming with me to Greece, still. After all, I would hate to keep my servants waiting. I had them clean up the place and stock the house with food before we got there. They are quiet hard working people and really aim to please. I would hate to disappoint." With an air of someone with a sudden indifference, he got off the bed. He pulled his wing around to the front, expecting her handiwork at the stitches. Not too bad. They would still take too long to heal but he'd still be able to fly. All around, not a bad day. With a shrug of his shoulders, his wings disappeared, becoming black ink that bled under his very skin, creating the image of wings on his back. He reached for his shirt then, pulling it down over his torso. The wound she had inflicted on his gut before his wing was completely gone, not a trace of it remained. It was easy to heal the body but wings were another story. It was the main reason Angels and Demons kept them hidden. Their one weakness... He turned to her with a grin. "Get up. You look like a desperate hooker." he teased. "All your stuff is still on the plane. We're leaving." he turned to leave but then stopped in the door way, eyeing the donuts on the coffee table. Someone who returned to face consequences didn't return with treats. He looked over his shoulder at her, his mind racing, confused. He'd have to keep a closer eye on her...