=> Oh Loki, you are my truest confidante. Only you know my heart better than I. My thoughts, my soul… There is a darkness in, on, of, my being, and it is spilled ink on parchment, spreading over me. Encompassing me. The part becomes the whole, and nothing can stem the tide or wash it away. The damage must be rectified. Start over.
=> There are days when I am the Ink. Red, powerful- there is nothing I cannot do. I exist to be the events on the pages of history. I make things happen.
=> There are days when I am the Parchment. Pale, fragile- with blood washing over me, pounding in my ears, consuming me. I exist to be used up as the means to expression for the powerful. I am used as a means to see the powerful. To see the deeds of the powerful.
=> There are days when I am the Quill. I stab at the parchment, leaving the stain of Ink behind. Sharp, covered in power that is not my own, but compliments me. We were created for each other, the Ink, the Parchment, and I.
=> Sometimes Loki, I am on top of the world. I can do anything, be anything. Sometimes Loki, I can’t believe I’ve never opened a fucking vein. I feel like a failure. The cycle of guilt is self- propelling. It feeds itself, and I am its fodder.
=> I am the Owl, proud, wise, respected. I own the world I soar above.
=> I am the Earthworm, blind, deaf, surrounded by darkness and a world infinitely larger than I.
=> What name will my soul wear after the test of time?
=> Well, until next time my lord, thanks for listening to my prattle.
————————-Lokabrenna
Dear Loki, I hope you are hearing me; 