Thor himself is just like Mjolnir: hard-pressed to be budged in a fight. While Thor stumbles, he is not unrooted.
And as expected, Thor sends the hammer out and at Loki. The trickster god for a moment thinks to evaporate into the air like the fog surrounding them -- before he recalls the absence of his power. All he is capable of is moving out of the way, but the delay and the speed of Mjolnir's flight means that Loki does not move out of the path of danger in time. Instead of clipping his shoulder as anticipated, the solid force of the unworldly dense hammer crushes the bone of his upper arm.
Loki is sent spinning back like a cloth doll being discarded, except screaming with reasonably more life. He lands in the mud on his front, growling muffled into the other arm he has left. Agonising pain is pounding through his now useless left arm, and he has to glance at it laying limply at his side to make sure it hasn't been torn clear off. No, it is still mostly in tact...but he is fairly sure his arm isn't supposed to bend such as it now is.
Loki uses his right arm to pull himself up, panting through the ache that is making his vision blurry, but he finds his footing. His eyes fall on Thor once again, but he paces in a wide curve around him like a predatory animal, chain strangled in bone-white knuckles. He can't quite manage a proud saunter like he would be wont to do.
What to do, what to do...perhaps to wait and see what Thor does. Loki made the first strike; now he wanted to see what Thor's next move will be.
"Can you really kill me, Thor?" Loki's voice is louder than it had been previously; he still can't shake the urge to cry out as the pain in his arm reaches up to his shoulder. "Can you live with the burden of my murder in your hands?"
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And as expected, Thor sends the hammer out and at Loki. The trickster god for a moment thinks to evaporate into the air like the fog surrounding them -- before he recalls the absence of his power. All he is capable of is moving out of the way, but the delay and the speed of Mjolnir's flight means that Loki does not move out of the path of danger in time. Instead of clipping his shoulder as anticipated, the solid force of the unworldly dense hammer crushes the bone of his upper arm.
Loki is sent spinning back like a cloth doll being discarded, except screaming with reasonably more life. He lands in the mud on his front, growling muffled into the other arm he has left. Agonising pain is pounding through his now useless left arm, and he has to glance at it laying limply at his side to make sure it hasn't been torn clear off. No, it is still mostly in tact...but he is fairly sure his arm isn't supposed to bend such as it now is.
Loki uses his right arm to pull himself up, panting through the ache that is making his vision blurry, but he finds his footing. His eyes fall on Thor once again, but he paces in a wide curve around him like a predatory animal, chain strangled in bone-white knuckles. He can't quite manage a proud saunter like he would be wont to do.
What to do, what to do...perhaps to wait and see what Thor does. Loki made the first strike; now he wanted to see what Thor's next move will be.
"Can you really kill me, Thor?" Loki's voice is louder than it had been previously; he still can't shake the urge to cry out as the pain in his arm reaches up to his shoulder. "Can you live with the burden of my murder in your hands?"