He can almost literally see her reconstructing those walls for her own safety, bricking up that vulnerability as if it never happened, and it’s actually a little bit of a relief for him, too. The conversational pivot is an anchor, something to hang onto: these two clear-cut rules.
“Yes, of course,” Thor says automatically. “I mean, it always worked that way, Loki is the planner between the two of us, I’m more about execution—”
Which, he realises, sounds like the exact opposite of don’t treat her as a Loki. And so, with a ripple of apologetic surprise across his face, he tries in vain to backpedal. “Not that I mean you’re the planner because you’re Loki. I know you’re not him. We’re clear on that. You’re Sylvie, and we’ve never met before now.”
And she is, of course, different from Loki. Even beyond the basic biological differences, she carries herself differently, tilts her head differently. But sometimes Thor blinks and she does angle her shoulders exactly like Loki would have, and it’s like catching a ghostly afterimage of his brother —
— this is going to be difficult.
He bites down on his lip. Considers what to say, to try to explain. If there’s any use in reaching out and voicing that small numb thought which he hasn’t allowed himself to think since Asgard fell: I always wanted a sister.
“My last surprise sister went very, very poorly,” he says. “I don’t want a repeat. But I still hope we are able to— get along, you and I, and be well. If we are to fight by each others’ side, we must be able to trust each other.”
Trust. Also a sore point, and something he hadn’t been able to entertain with Loki for so very, very long.
no subject
“Yes, of course,” Thor says automatically. “I mean, it always worked that way, Loki is the planner between the two of us, I’m more about execution—”
Which, he realises, sounds like the exact opposite of don’t treat her as a Loki. And so, with a ripple of apologetic surprise across his face, he tries in vain to backpedal. “Not that I mean you’re the planner because you’re Loki. I know you’re not him. We’re clear on that. You’re Sylvie, and we’ve never met before now.”
And she is, of course, different from Loki. Even beyond the basic biological differences, she carries herself differently, tilts her head differently. But sometimes Thor blinks and she does angle her shoulders exactly like Loki would have, and it’s like catching a ghostly afterimage of his brother —
— this is going to be difficult.
He bites down on his lip. Considers what to say, to try to explain. If there’s any use in reaching out and voicing that small numb thought which he hasn’t allowed himself to think since Asgard fell: I always wanted a sister.
“My last surprise sister went very, very poorly,” he says. “I don’t want a repeat. But I still hope we are able to— get along, you and I, and be well. If we are to fight by each others’ side, we must be able to trust each other.”
Trust. Also a sore point, and something he hadn’t been able to entertain with Loki for so very, very long.