- - - MAY YOUR ORGANS FAIL

[LOKI ATTICUS FOLLET]

Loki’s arms spread as far above as his head as they could go, his fingers spreading apart and slowly curling until he made a fist. His face was turned to the ceiling and his eyes were shut tight, remnants of blue eye shadow visible to anyone in the first two rows of seats. No traveller returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?

[/color] he shouted, his voice filled with power and emotion. The sleeves of his bright yellow cardigan fell to his elbows as he continued, bringing his arms to his chest. “Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...”[/color] He swept one arm around the span of the classroom, looking at the students and taking a moment to study their expressions. It was always so easy to tell which students came regularly and which ones rarely attended. The frequent students who showed up as often as possible were more than used to Loki’s eccentricities, usually holding some sort of smile or expression of amusement. Then there were the students who attended at irregular intervals usually appeared a bit confused, assuming that they always seemed to attend on the days when Loki had taken some sort of illegal substance. Then there were the students whose faces he didn’t recognize in the slightest they showed up that infrequently.

Loki stared out at them, passion burning in his eyes and his lips curled down in an intent frown. “And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thoughts,”[/color] he continued on, his voice dying down a few octaves though still filled with power and emotion enough for him to belong on a stage. “And enterprise of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action—Soft you now...”[/color] his arms dropped to his sides and a look of hopelessness overcame him. He dropped to his knees, scuffing up his bright red pants. “The fair Ophelia!”[/color] he shouted to the ceiling. “Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered...”[/color]

Loki let the last syllables linger as he threw his hands to the floor and stared down at the carpet, breathing heavily and remaining where he was for a few seconds. There he was, on the floor of his lecture room, looking like a color blind three year old had dressed him. Yellow cardigan, blue plaid shirt, pink leopard print bow tie and red pants. His nails had chipped pink polish on them from letting his daughter have some fun and his feet had classic saddle shoes on them. His hair was a curly asymmetrical mess. He finally brought himself back up, slowly and staring out at the class as if he’s about to scold them. “Time is up,”[/color] he announced, lips curling into a frown. “So long, farewell to you my friends, goodbye for now until we meet again,”[/color] he sand happily, waving both of his arms as people collected their things and started to chatter among themselves. He spun around on his heels, allowing his arms to swing around at his sides, and pranced his way back to his desk where his MacBook was set up to show the slides and lecture notes he had put together about Hamlet. He closed up the slides to reveal a photograph of him and his daughter dressed as princesses, which made several of the students snicker. They started leaving but one remained, which he smiled at. “How can I help you?”[/color] He loved talking to his students.[/blockquote]WORDS[/color] 601
TAGGED[/color] open.
OUTFIT[/color] here.
LYRICS[/color] the matches.
NOTES[/color] none.
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