Work Text:
I am silent
Invisible to you
While I count the days gone by
Sometimes they don’t talk.
Not to each other, anyway.
The grass is damp, the air chilly, but neither wants to move.
Sylvie tries to keep quiet, still, and normal as she conjures the blanket—it’s a real blanket, of course, nothing like the hideous thing that—ahem. Anyway, she’s silent. Because there’s no reason Mobius has to know why, or even that, her chest is burning at the suggestion.
It’s deep blue, with little metallic flecks like stars. It’s soft. She offers it to him and he doesn’t hesitate to wrap it around himself, holding one end open in invitation.
She shakes her head, and he doesn’t make any move to insist. But when he closes the blanket around himself the rest of the way, Sylvie scoots closer, and rests her cheek on his shoulder; the softness is a comfort.
So is Mobius.
They stay like this a while, silent and still, until the sound of the crickets and cicadas is an almost deafening roar.
They aren’t speaking tonight, only offering up separate, silent prayers of their own, into the vast, cold night sky.
Loki doesn’t answer.