Loki made me write a ficlet. by
Huinesoron
on 2016-02-22 13:14:00 UTC
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It's kind of really disturbing to have that happen.
~
I do not have raven hair. Ravens are Odin's pets and tattletales; they are his symbols of oppressive authority and purported wisdom. Their mangy feathers may be an approximation of their hair colour, but that is where the resemblance ends.
Nor is my hair as dark as a stormy night. When my so-called brother has one of his tantrums, filling the skies of the Nine Worlds with thunderclouds and slashing them with lightning, the general result is one of mayhem and sodden ruin. That is not, in point of fact, an appropriate simile for my hair.
Might my hair be midnight? Perhaps - but only the weak and the foolish try to hide their plans under the cover of night. Far better to carry out your intrigue in broad daylight, and see how far the naive gods of Asgard will bend to keep from admitting what you are doing.
My hair is not the same shade as coal, the dirty, inefficient fuel source of a pathetic race. It is not filled with the shadows of the deep places, for in my birthplace the caves are of ice, and blue-green light fills them. It is not as black as the void, that empty waste which no civilized race would ever deign to enter.
You pitiable humans, living out your mayfly lives on your fragile world, filling your brief hours with petty squabbles, have no concept of how important words can be. Words can bring down empires; they can corrupt the pure-hearted and reduce the strong to tears. Find the right words, and you can snuff out the stars.
My hair is as black as my hate. That is all that needs to be said.
~
Because words are important, and comparisons should not be made without proper planning.
(With bonus shout-outs to J.R.R. Tolkien and Diane Duane, though they're pretty oblique.)
hS
