When is a god not a god? Apparently when he pisses his father off enough to cast him down to the mortal realm.

“Ridiculous.” Loki slicked back his hair to make room for his horned headpiece. “Absolutely ridiculous. Exiled from my own home, stripped of my abilities, humiliated by mortals. Bah, the lot of them.” He grumbled, walking along the sidewalk to find perhaps a food stand he can charm into giving him some free food. The suit he had on was the only thing good going on for him, it sets him apart from all the rags mortals used for warmth.

“I was—am—a god.”

No one takes him seriously without his powers, it was almost pathetic. If he must, he resorted to actually be polite to those he bumps into. “And you,” he pointed a finger at his only ally in this blasted world. The spiteful words were at the tip of his silver tongue, close to saying something that wouldn’t exactly be appropriate around these oddly small mortals.

He waved his hand off and dismissed whatever lecture he had planned, Loki was far too exhausted for it.

“Don’t even get me started with you.” In truth, he couldn’t place any blame on anyone but himself.

Oh how humbling it was to have his stomach rumble in hunger. And so loudly too.