Weth's uncharacteristic reaction startled and confused Loki. She tried to blow it off, as he'd expected, but in a distracted, barely there sort of way, and before that he'd seen her actually flinch away from him. She'd never reacted fearfully to him before. In Loki's own quicksilver manner, the fury was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving behind confusion, shame, hurt. Loki shrank back to his haunches, brow furrowed in quizzical concern.
"Weth," he started softly, coaxingly. "Weth, this is me, Loki. You know you can trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you."
A vaguely panicked feeling fluttered in his chest. Weth was all he had, the only thing he'd ever been able to really depend on other than himself. Even when he'd left the pack, the physical separation didn't matter, because he knew she was still there for him. If she pushed him away, if he lost her because he screwed up somehow, he'd be lost. Useless. Empty.
He moved closer, moving to plant a comforting lick on her forehead if she'd allow it, something he wouldn't do for anyone else in the world. "I'm sorry if I scared you, Weth," he said, green eyes entreating her to look at him, to talk to him, instead of pushing him away. "I just want to help. I'd do anything for you, you know that."
"Speech"
|
