[ Loki's all too used to it. his body adjusts as easily to the change in atmospheric pressure as it does to the extremity of temperature. (nothing is as rigidly cold as Jotunheim or as searingly hot as Muspelheim.) being a god has had him traversing many places, between the cracks in stories and along the shadows of dead time, and the sky was hardly off limits. it's good for both of them, as it seems like one slip-up may send them both hurdling down toward the ground—but Loki doesn't seem to have a care of the world. there's something wild in his expression beneath the mask of smugness, enjoying the sudden rush of freedom.

the mountains unfold beneath them, appearing and reappearing between clouds. Loki makes his own roads, leaping between transient pathways and skidding along streaks of shapeless white to create new ones. the air is cold, and he has to blink away the frost forming at the tips of his hair and on his eyelashes. it doesn't at all seem to matter, not with the rush of adrenaline that accompanies the wind. well, if she was mad, it was contagious.

there's a spot just above the lower clouds where the horizon becomes clear. ]

Four! [ one of the dragons shrieks just as he says that, almost covering the sound. ] Does that mean we count as one? I've always wanted to be a dragon.

[ the words are accompanied by an unruly grin. it takes him a bit to keep up with the three dragons circling the sky, but he doesn't seem to tire. all beings of defiance needed to stretch their legs once in a while. ]

So, are you ready to hit the sky running? [ he shifts his grip on her, holding her waist upright with one arm, ready to put her on her feet next to him. ]