Loki could feel the boy’s eyes on him, though his own were closed tight in concentration. He’d likely heard Loki use a tearm of endearment with Akira and was confused. Seems no one had had the time to tell him that he was Akira’s father and not Loxley. He was jerked from his musings by the tendrils of his curse that were wrapped around his hands. They had become almost sentient, making them harder to control. It also explained why the curse was mutating so quickly. He grunted in pain as one of the tendrils sliced his skin in an attempt to make him lose his concentration. It ended up having the opposite effect on him. His grip on the tendrils became even tighter. He forced his will into them, causing them to scream in protest and anger. But he didn’t care. He would remove all of this curse, even if he had to take it on himself. He would remove it. Failure was not an option. He would not lose the only piece of Seona he had left. Especially now that he’d found her and she knew who he was.

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