[Though he almost hates himself for it, Iofast's shoulders sink slightly in relief when Loki laughs like that. It might still be another artifice, another lure, but some intuition tells him otherwise. He knows when he is being hunted, and this cadence of theirs is something else, something far older.

He gives a wary smile in return, ruffling the prickling sweat of raised tempers off of his scalp.]

Is that the tale that has won out? Fine luck. There was a rival one once, that woman-hearted Iofast would of course faint at the sight of an open wound.