Hell would be an apt description, really. A place where they were confined, where their pacts and powers meant little. Where they could be prodded, poked, restrained and murdered on a whim only to return and have it happen all over again. Denied the sky, any semblance of comfort, and subjected to periodically devastating displays like these zombies. The little boy's face as he'd died, the moment of perfect, horrifying clarity between thought and action as she'd defended the older Loki...it was something burned into her mind, so deep she wasn't sure she could remove it.

Choking, she leans into the hug. "I...I know you won't. I couldn't...I don't know what I'd do...if...if..." If that happened to you... "You can't...you aren't allowed to die. Y-you aren't allowed to get s-s-sick."