Loki flees, barefoot, into the underbrush, into the trees, and something in Clint sings. This hunter. Lets the god go for the sake of fairness.
But not too fair.
Because Loki is an intruder unwelcome guest prey monster, and Clint Barton Does Not Miss. When he gives hunting chase, he does not fire, because he wants to run his prey down and then drive him out thoroughly, completely. Sometimes his boot rustles leaves a little too much, and Loki darts off again, just out of sight. It's exciting. He's having fun with this.
He thinks, maybe, that Loki is having fun with this, too.
But this is his mind, his dream, and he knows these woods. Or his mind tells him he knows them. When Loki ducks into the only standing building in the area, he knows this, too. Out in the woods he would run off to when he snuck away from the building full of other kids--out where civilization fell away for at least a little while, but the touch of people still remained. Knew better than to go poking around in dilapidated buildings. Did anyway. The door is gone. Most of the windows are still there but dusted, warped. Clint perches in a tree to observe if Loki will come out, or if he will try to rest there.
Or if he's being baited. One of them is. He can't tell if he's baited Loki to this place or the other way around.
The inside is not the place he once knew, and he doesn't even blink at the change. Dreams are changeable, strange, shift around and simply make sense to the dreamer. This is not a dilapidated, run down building. This is a barn. This is his barn. And it simply does not strike him to question how they changed states so quickly.
He raises his weapon again.
"I've done this before," he states out in the open. "Hunted you down. Killed you. Tried to." In dreams. They don't always end so well for him. (They usually don't. But sometimes, sometimes they do.)
"Haven't done this before." Whatever the fuck they're doing now. Loki, real Loki, real Loki here and running and hiding and prey and letting himself be prey.
no subject
But not too fair.
Because Loki is an intruder unwelcome guest prey monster, and Clint Barton Does Not Miss. When he gives hunting chase, he does not fire, because he wants to run his prey down and then drive him out thoroughly, completely. Sometimes his boot rustles leaves a little too much, and Loki darts off again, just out of sight. It's exciting. He's having fun with this.
He thinks, maybe, that Loki is having fun with this, too.
But this is his mind, his dream, and he knows these woods. Or his mind tells him he knows them. When Loki ducks into the only standing building in the area, he knows this, too. Out in the woods he would run off to when he snuck away from the building full of other kids--out where civilization fell away for at least a little while, but the touch of people still remained. Knew better than to go poking around in dilapidated buildings. Did anyway. The door is gone. Most of the windows are still there but dusted, warped. Clint perches in a tree to observe if Loki will come out, or if he will try to rest there.
Or if he's being baited. One of them is. He can't tell if he's baited Loki to this place or the other way around.
The inside is not the place he once knew, and he doesn't even blink at the change. Dreams are changeable, strange, shift around and simply make sense to the dreamer. This is not a dilapidated, run down building. This is a barn. This is his barn. And it simply does not strike him to question how they changed states so quickly.
He raises his weapon again.
"I've done this before," he states out in the open. "Hunted you down. Killed you. Tried to." In dreams. They don't always end so well for him. (They usually don't. But sometimes, sometimes they do.)
"Haven't done this before." Whatever the fuck they're doing now. Loki, real Loki, real Loki here and running and hiding and prey and letting himself be prey.