"Loki! Get over here!" Sirius's voice tore through his own mind like a storm. He didn't want Lugh to hear him—this wasn't for him. This was between Sirius and the one who had really ruined all their lives. And Sirius was tired of getting played.
The air in Lugh's mindscape shifted. A whisper of laughter slithered through the dark and then—
A figure materialized, draped in emerald and mischief. He had appeared, his long, gleaming horns curving like a crown of wicked intent. His silver armor reflected phantom light, polished as if he had been expecting an audience. His green cape billowed as though caught in an unseen wind, and his ever-present smirk curled at the edges of his lips.
"Now, now," Loki drawled, his voice smooth as silk, dangerous as a blade hidden within it. "No need to shout, my boy. I hear you just fine when you summon me. It's not that difficult, really. In fact, I already knew you would call. I dressed up and everything."
