Loki stumbled gracelessly from his gravity couch and collapsed to one knee as he choked back the urge to vomit. Last time he'd gone through this the damnable ship had just torn his unwilling soul from the ruins of Asgard. Last time, he'd just died.

Now that he had more of his wits about him, he managed to stay conscious, but not without some effort. His head swam and the metal leviathan seemed to tilt around him like a Midgardian carnival ride. It made him feel dizzy, nauseous, and, above all, angry. How could anything reduce a god to this state!? How dare it!? He made a solemn vow that he would find a way to conquer this sickness, somehow, then pulled himself upright and looked around as the stasis liquid dripped from his naked body.

Right...First thing to do was wash this mess off. There were showers somewhere near here, he knew that much. So, he started walking with no real sense of direction.