[ That hadn't quite been what he meant, but before he can regroup to explain himself, Loki is throwing a hand up and throwing that green magic of his out from his palm, a spreading wave covering all of Chris's bedroom, coating it, changing it.
He'd be more alarmed if he hadn't seen Loki's magic before; his only real question is if they've been actually transported off his ship or if this is a situation like Loki's clothes had been before, real to the touch but easily changed or removed with just a thought from the young god.
As someone who appreciates artistry in all its forms, Chris allows himself to pull back and look around, assuming that Loki wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to create this setting for them if Chris wasn't allowed to admire it.
It's honestly a little overwhelming, the sumptuous grandeur of it all, from the silken sheets and the heavy tapestries, the glimmering prismatic light splashed across the ceiling and the glittering winks of gold in the stone that surrounds them. Even the smells seem real.
Prince of Asgard. Well. That does make this make a little more sense; if Chris had to picture what the rooms of a prince would look like, he might imagine something pretty similar to this. His imagination would be nothing but a pale imitation of the reality, though, especially this reality.
Smiling, a pleased and somewhat awed wonder coloring his expression, Chris turns back to Loki, but when he speaks, he says nothing about the room around them. ]
no subject
He'd be more alarmed if he hadn't seen Loki's magic before; his only real question is if they've been actually transported off his ship or if this is a situation like Loki's clothes had been before, real to the touch but easily changed or removed with just a thought from the young god.
As someone who appreciates artistry in all its forms, Chris allows himself to pull back and look around, assuming that Loki wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to create this setting for them if Chris wasn't allowed to admire it.
It's honestly a little overwhelming, the sumptuous grandeur of it all, from the silken sheets and the heavy tapestries, the glimmering prismatic light splashed across the ceiling and the glittering winks of gold in the stone that surrounds them. Even the smells seem real.
Prince of Asgard. Well. That does make this make a little more sense; if Chris had to picture what the rooms of a prince would look like, he might imagine something pretty similar to this. His imagination would be nothing but a pale imitation of the reality, though, especially this reality.
Smiling, a pleased and somewhat awed wonder coloring his expression, Chris turns back to Loki, but when he speaks, he says nothing about the room around them. ]
You adore me?