But I stood my ground and I'll fly once more, it's the last oath that I ever swore

[ibelieveinarrows]

Steve is not having a good day.

That's fairly rare for him. Normally he can keep it together, or at least have the appearance of keeping it together. His bad days are quiet affairs, private ones, not the screaming, crying breakdowns he's seen some of the others come to. Usually.

He's not screaming now, but he is crying, curled in the quietest, darkest corner he can find to squeeze himself into. It's still too loud, too much. He's bleeding from crescents on his palm and if he keeps scratching at the skin around his ears he's going to start bleeding there too. He's not sobbing anymore, at least; tears are just slipping quietly down his face as he sits there, rocking slightly and trying to focus on the sound of his own breathing. Anything to calm down, to stop listening to all the thoughts that pass through his brain. To be better, like he usually is.



Clint is practicing, holed up with the targets and his weapons. And it is weapons this time, plural; his favorite bow is in his hands, quiver strapped across his back, but there's a gun lying on the bench and a target full of bullet holes instead of arrows among the ones he's been working with. He still likes his arrows better, but it never hurts to stay sharp with multiple weapons. He's considering trying throwing knives too.

But for right now, it's him and the bow and the bullseye. Anyone dropping by should maybe try not to startle him.



Coulson has files in hand, but he's not looking at them at the moment, his eyes closed and the other hand rubbing his temples. He needs a second before he can dive back into it. It's important, looking over the evaluations of the newest rescues, figuring out who needs to be put into safe keeping and who might be approached to help them out, but it's also hard to read about what these kids have been through. This girl is only a year younger than Darcy, and he can't stop putting his daughter in her place; it turns his stomach to think about it.

He'll go back to it, but he needs a moment first.



Loki is tied up, so securely that he can't slip the bonds, even just enough to get to one of the knives they missed when they took his weapons. It's for his own safety and everyone else's, this time, and just in the nick of time. It wouldn't have been much longer before he'd done something to endanger them all.

He isn't gagged, just tied, and he's humming to himself as he works against his bonds, not accomplishing anything but rubbing his wrists and ankles raw. It doesn't seem to bother him very much, but then, not much can get through the manic fog at the moment.

Comments

[wewithoutwarmth]

"He's around," Tony says without missing a beat. "Why?"

If things calm down, they could probably bring Thor down to see him if that's what he's after but keeping them is usually better for everyone involved.

[roomforonemore]

"I want to say hello," he answers, the cold smile falling back into place as he strains a little more against his bonds.

He knows Thor will let him out if he gets him here, that he can talk him into it at least. It's just a matter of getting him here alone, or taking out the person who brings him, but that can be arranged, he's already calculating angles and possible weapons.

[wewithoutwarmth]

"Yeah, well," Tony says. "It's not y call. Maybe if you pay nice someone can come down here with him."

He's not stupid, he knows Loki is up to something but he's not going to be the one who gets caught in that trap.

[roomforonemore]

He snarls, any pretenses of calm dropping. He strains forward against his bonds and snaps again, working his wrists furiously and getting nowhere.

"What do you want?"

[wewithoutwarmth]

"I told you," he says lightly. "I came to see the show. What's a little mania without an audience, right?"

[roomforonemore]

"More enjoyable," he snaps, struggling hard for a few more seconds before slumping down, crumpling in on himself as much as he'd allowed.

[wewithoutwarmth]

"Fine," he sniffs, looking jokingly offended. "I'll just go then."

He's going to be surprised if Loki calls him back but hey, you never know.

[roomforonemore]

He won't, even if he doesn't want to be alone as much as he tries to pretend. That's something he'll only stoop to doing when he's broken, when the facade is cracked; not when he's manic and angry.

He does call to Tony when he's halfway out the door, though. "Get my brother. Make them bring him here."

[wewithoutwarmth]

"I'll see what I can do," he says, turning around to study him for a moment.

He's still pretty sure Loki is up to something but perhaps getting him his brother might just calm him down a little.

So he makes arrangement for Thor to come b a few hours later, a guard at the door.

"Brother," Thor says, his eyes wide at the sight of Loki.

[roomforonemore]

His wrists are bleeding, by the time they bring Thor to him, torn up in the bonds that they've had to tighten because of his constant struggles. Loki's still struggling, his entire body, until he hears the door open, and then he slumps abruptly. When he looks up, he does his best to look small, and hurt, and holds out his hands.

"Brother," he starts, and then takes a quick glance at the guard and changes his mind about immediately asking for release. "Come and sit with me," he says instead.

[wewithoutwarmth]

"Of course," he agrees, closing the gap between them.

His eyes keep going to the wounds on his brothers wrists and he wants to reach out and clean them or, at the very least, wrap them up but he holds back for no.