[It's all strange, Thor decides. All of it. It feels out of place, out of time, and it unsettles him in a way that he can't quite verbalize. It forces him to wander around at all hours of the night and day, like some forlorn spirit with no place to rest.

He hears his brother's voice, jilted and stunned. It's a rare thing to experience, hearing his brother silenced. He's usually an insufferable talker. Not that Thor isn't, but Loki's more conniving than his elder brother. He talks his way out of the most convoluted of labyrinths. It's a skill and a gift that both draws Thor's ire and his admiration, but tonight, there's the flooding feeling of concern that washes over him instead.

He doesn't recognize the other voice, but the words are scathing and deadly. He's tempted to swoop in, shove himself in between Loki and the stranger, and after a few seconds on his twitching heels, he decides to do just that.

Thor bursts through the darkness to land at his brother's side, glancing between the two before him. It's only on the second glance that he realizes it's a corpse—rotting and decaying. He makes a face of disgust and recoils slightly before reaching up to curl his fingers around the corpse's wrist. There's the crackle of thunder on the horizon.]

You speak falsely. ... Whoever you are. I don't hate him. [He flicks his head towards his brother.] He gets on my nerves sometimes, but I'm told that that is common for younger siblings. But I don't hate him. I could never hate him.

Now let go.