Falsehood

He saw. Before he even stepped into the room, he had already felt the animosity emanating from it, like the stench of decomposed bodies that simply wouldn’t go away until someone did something about it.

They say absence makes the heart grows fonder. What lies those humans spew from their orifices. Those inane holes in their faces, good for nothing at all. All they know was to complain and criticize.
“Are human lives really that boring?” he thought. Amused yet disappointed at the same time. He belonged to the faction that believed humans were capable of greater good. Never mind that the faction was increasingly ostracized by his tribe. For now, they couldn’t do anything. They were not that united. Yet.

Liars, all of them. Not one ounce of truth in their speech. “One must behave as though one is speaking to Loki,” he grimaced. Even those Immortals had to step gingerly around him. Let alone a semi-deity like him.

Perhaps Loki was really speaking the truth when he said that he had messed around during the creation of the human race. Tainted by Loki. He shivered. No time to dwell on the consequences of that yet. He was already late in maintaining his tomes, and there was a room of angry readers to deal with.


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