Forest Circumstances

In the dimly lit room, Nyarla and Loki engaged in a tense game of chess. The atmosphere grew thick with intensity, contrasting with Nyarla's typically composed demeanor. She found herself unable to suppress her irritation, provoked by Loki's insufferably smug expression.

His smile, his gaze, and the air of confidence that seemed to accompany his every move fueled Nyarla's growing frustration. Despite her father emphasizing her importance in their plans, Loki's demeanor grated on her nerves. A sudden thought crossed her mind, a dark contemplation sparked by her vexation.

'Would it really hurt to remove a finger or two from him? Or perhaps, cutting off his tongue? He's a god, after all. It wouldn't be fatal, right?' Nyarla pondered, her gaze fixed intensely on Loki as these unsettling thoughts swirled within the recesses of her mind.