10A/N: Plot bunny just jumped out and scared me. Woo, that was close.
Summary: Due to their volatile powers and sensibilities, Loki and Elsa's respective families send them to a Midgard mental institution – part therapy/part banishment. This story will be told in the form of diary entries. I don't really have a true plot attached to this. It'll be mostly fluff and in ficlet territory. I'd love some feedback, though!
October 12. 3 pm.
With a cool flash of light, I was here. Not here, in my room, but here, in a new land. I look different and I feel different. I no longer feel the tingling in my fingertips and my powers seem to have disappeared here. Maybe that is a blessing. My powers only proved to hurt everyone I love.
Loved.
I'll never forgive Anna for what she did, sending me here. Here, to this bustling, disgusting city. I've never seen such a filthy place. Though I suppose much has happened here in the past few weeks. Some sort of attack or something.
They knew I was coming and when I arrived, I was stripped of my Arendelle clothing and given soft pants and a small coat-like garment that closed with something called a zipper.
The food here is disgusting. I was told the lump on my plate was something called macaroni and cheese. The cheese was a bright orange hue that did not at all resemble the delicious goat cheese for which Ardenelle is famous. I ate nothing.
I've not met the others yet, having only spent this first day in my room. I was deemed well enough (?) to write with a pen and a man, who calls himself a doctor, said it might be a good idea to record my thoughts.
Recording thoughts? Recording memories? Having to put pen to paper and relive the horrors of the past few months? My parents, my lack of control, my failure. Yes, of course, this will be helpful.
I miss the tingling. The tingling meant I could actually feel something. Now, I feel nothing.
October 12, 1 pm.
Well, this is preposterous. They say I need to write. They say it will "help" me. The only help I need is a freeze everyone in place and break the hell out of here. Some simpering slip of a man came into my cell today and told me to write as a therapy. Gods, this is hell.
Maybe if they see me writing, I will get out of here more quickly. My poor excuse for a brother told me I'm not allowed back in Asgard until I can be trusted. So for now, I am stranded in FUCKING Midgard. So I'm not sure where I'll go after I leave this awful place.
It will at least give me time to plan. Perhaps I can treat this as a holiday.
The 'macaroni and cheese' they slid through the slot today was actually not too bad. It needed pepper but I enjoyed it.
I must be going crazy.
The Midgardians are laughably adorable. They have me in a white cell with a small slit of a window. There are SHIELD guards outside of my door. I'm not quite sure where I am but I know I'm still in New York. It seems like a large healing center but also a prison. I'm not quite sure what the logic is in that but Midgardians are not known for that virtue.
They told me that I start 'group therapy' in two days, whatever the fuck that is.
Perhaps I can amass a new army with the legions of the criminally insane that surround me. Their cries into the night make me feel they would make good assassins.
Short, I know, but I just wanted to get my feet wet with this and get some feedback. I know its not much to go on but I just wanted to drop this down here!
