Potent Circumstance: A Prism of Delight and Pain
Chapter 9: Masquerade
So they dug your grave/And the masquerade
Will come calling out /At the mess you made
-Imagine Dragon, "Demons"
As Jane's heartbeat calmed to a normal rhythm, Loki relaxed, though he continued to try soothing her. It felt like holding onto a distant star, feeling its warmth from afar while knowing you should never touch it. He tried kissing away her tremors by pressing his lips to her forehead and hair, but still he could feel a tremble of fear and uncertainty in her. It must be horrendously baffling to her how she could seek safety with him but possibly also never feel completely safe from him. She could both always rely on him and never trust him. After all, he couldn't exactly protect her from himself. Still, her smaller form pressing into his chest made him experience a surge of protectiveness and pride along with the swooping that occurred in his abdomen when she touched him without flinching.
How he loved her touch—and in many more ways than sensual situations, which were few and far between. He loved her smile, wishing he had the ability to summon it. He admired her spark. She flooded an entire new horizon with her presence. She made him question himself. All of it made him more affectionate than he had deigned he be in a long while. There were very few people he loved, and when he loved, he loved deeply, thoroughly.
He stopped rocking her and waited to see what she would do. Jane sighed. She sounded like the most tired woman in the world, as if she shared the burden of Atlas. He knew he was a burden. He'd always been a burden, the extra, the last one picked. Second choice. He dropped his arms, smothering his disappointment when Jane scrabbled away like a startled rabbit. He saw the smallest flash of guilt and uncertainty, in the making of riddling her through until she resembled Swiss cheese. Her cheeks were still flushed, her forehead creased and her eyes squinting. She worried the inside of her cheek. A hand reached out for another flower, and she plucked it, staring at the dark petals as she twirled the stem between her long fingers. "So your sister," she rejoined awkwardly. "Tell me about her?"
"Ah-Naryu." He thought for a moment. "One of the few people that ever loved me I daresay. I could always depend on her. She stood up for me—even when I begged her not to." He cringed, tracing his lips with his tongue as he remembered their many spats over that particular issue. Not that he hadn't appreciated the sentiment, but he felt weaker and more helpless for it, and received more taunting when her back had turned for her troubles. Loki took a steadying breath, then grinned bitterly, lips stretching wide.
"Surely you know that she isn't my real sister no more than Thor is my real brother."
Jane's head jerked up, brown eyes enormous and darting about his face for an explanation. "She...found me, as an infant."
Loki watched Jane's reactions, head tilted and eyes narrowed, hoping he didn't find pity lurking in her of all people for him. He wouldn't be able to bear it. Instead of ridiculing him—the other reaction he feared—she stopped fiddling with the flower and took his hand in hers gently. "You may not want to hear this, but if she loves you the way Thor and your mother do and did, then I don't know of anyone who was ever loved or wanted quite so much, Loki. You might not have always been wanted, or by everyone, but you were always loved. And probably needed. I know that's true."
His eyebrows drew together, and he saw her smile waver slightly. He shook his head. "Jane," he sighed.
"Loki," she returned. He swiped the flower from her grasp, eyeing it closely.
"Why would you tell me that?"
Jane blinked. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because you've no reason to."
Jane considered that and shrugged. "True. But I don't have it in me to be overly cruel, even to you. I'm just not a pain-dealer."
Loki smirked. "But you slapped me so willingly. Or have you forgotten?"
Jane couldn't help but snicker. "That you deserved. I just don't do overkill."
"Oh, is that all?" he teased. "I rather thought my appealing nature and dashing looks might have done it all." Jane rolled her eyes, unable to resist a smile. Loki felt a twinge of satisfaction. He'd done it again.
Jane huffed semi-affectionately and leveled herself off of the ground. She dusted herself off and looked about her warily. She turned and offered her hand to him. He glanced at it, regarded her expression and body language, and took it. Then, of course, true to his nature, and perhaps to pay her in kind for what she had done when she slipped earlier, he promptly yanked her back down, where she landed in a heap. She screeched furiously, but her outrage got cut short by tickling. Jane flailed to get away, but Loki held onto her tightly. "You fiend!" she choked, wiggling crazily to try to escape again. Finally, she gave up and instead went completely limp. He paused, and in doing so gave her the opportunity she needed. She twisted and broke free. She sat across from him, crab-walking an extra inch just in case.
"That—" pant—"was not—" pant –"fair."
She nudged his knee with her foot for emphasis, but couldn't contain the snicker that slipped out. At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated. "I was planning to let go and drop you when you pulled up, but you got me first."
He got very quiet, and then, echoing clearly between the little hills, his laughter rang.
After a minute or so, he grew quiet again. "I got you first," he echoed.
Jane couldn't quite manage to feel abashed. "Oh, get over yourself," she teased, "It's not like it's something you wouldn't have done."
"Exactly. It's exactly like something I would have done." He sounded pleased.
Jane rolled her eyes. "Stop preening, will you?"
"Why?" he inquired loftily. "I'm corrupting you."
"Hardly. Though what if you were?" Jane retorted, crossing her arms defensively.
"And you would be all right with that?" Loki could no longer contain the unholy glee the thought process apparently brought him.
"Well, it's sort of a case of learned helplessness. And apathy, oh yes, apathy," Jane reasoned. "Nothing to do." A glimmer of playfulness almost surfaced, but she buried it, actually hesitant to embrace it. The truth was, she'd been that way all along, but Thor wasn't someone you could yank into the mud with you when you "tripped", or vice versa. She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood, salty and bitter and metallic, and hid the cringe that followed within a controlled cough.
"So the ah-Day of Colors, was it?" Jane quickly changed the subject. "I mean, short story short, obviously it's some sort of annual celebration—but what more?" To her relief, Loki perked up at the mention of it and began explaining animatedly. Jane absentmindedly started to make a flower crown with more bitterblue as he spoke.
He spoke of the music and crowds; the brightly colored magical paint thrown back and forth that only washed off at sunset, and that acted almost like a mood ring did; about the paper lanterns released at night, floating upwards like star boats; the barefoot people and the dancing; the colorful ribbons and the pranks exchanged; about actual acts of magic. He elaborated in such a way that Jane could tell he loved it, that he had good memories of it, and perhaps most of all, though he didn't make mention, that he missed his mother and sister and the times they'd had together. Jane's hands faltered on tying the last stems together when his explaining faltered. His brows drew together, and the smile left the creases of his eyes. Jane hesitated, but gently placed her hand over his. "Hey," she said gently, tilting her head and squeezing his fingers until he acknowledged her. "Why don't you let me show you a dance? I bet you'd enjoy it, and it would take your mind off of things." She didn't quite know what drove her to try and cheer him up at all.
He chuckled, "I know how to dance."
"You know how to dance by touch," Jane replied, rubbing her thumb over his wrist for emphasis. "You probably haven't been exposed to the near-touch." She pulled away her touch and stood, motioning for him to follow her. He did so, hands crossed behind his back. Jane reached around and unhooked them, bringing them in front of him. She dropped his left, gesturing to it and stating, "We'll start with the right, go to the left, and then do both. But first, you honor your partner." She backed up a foot or so, bowing at the waist toward him, arms straight at her sides, to demonstrate. "When we bow to each other, our heads should almost touch, and if we turn our faces up, it should be not quite close enough for a kiss."
Loki nodded, and they enacted her instruction. He remained silent as Jane went on with her display. His eyes and ears drank in every motion and word. "You come closer, move almost as if you are going to turn your shoulder, and hold up your right hand." She came up to him, shoulder turned, and held her right hand up to his. The dance started then, with their right hands a hair's-breadth away from contact. "Now, move with me," Jane whispered, walking in a spiral. "No matter how much you want to touch me, don't. There's no touching during this part. It's about the simple intimacy of the near-touch, the flirting with eyes alone." They spun slowly, twice. Jane lowered her right and stepped back. "Here we share a look, face to face, and switch."
She straightened her shoulders, both arms at her sides, and met his gaze. His interest had apparently been piqued. He lifted a brow as if telling her to continue as this time, he stepped up to Jane. They switched hands and spun the other way, two beats exactly. Jane withdrew for the second time. "And now?" Loki asked softly, nearly breathless.
"Now we will come in facing each other with both hands raised," Jane breathed, suddenly anxious to get through each part. She lifted both hands towards him, and he followed suit, coming so close that she truly felt how he towered over her. This swirl lasted a little longer, and then when Jane stopped, she whispered, "This is the part where you're allowed to touch me." Loki swallowed. She clasped the fingers of their right hands together, her hand slipping into his and fitting as if they were two interlocking pieces, then put her left on his shoulder. His descended on her back as he pulled her close, just a tiny bit more than the dance called for but not enough to be noticeable. She told him so and he smirked, and they twirled elegantly around their imaginary floor.
Her lips tugged upward, and his did as well. They slowed to a halt. "Again?" Jane prompted.
"It would be my pleasure," Loki responded silkily. The spark had returned to the glistening gaze she knew so well. They bowed to each other. Flirt with your eyes. He looked both as if he adored her and as if he could devour her. Their right hands came up together, skimming the inch of air between them. Their feet followed the circular pattern. They paused, switched, repeated. They held up both again, and when it came time to, they slid just as easily together. It's about the simple intimacy of the near-touch.
By then, everything else, their problems, their circumstances, their surroundings, their guilt and uncertainties, faded into the background, a dull and distant hum they could ignore while it was just the two of them in the moment, so close but not close enough. Jane saw the slight quirk of Loki's lips that denoted he enjoyed that she was willingly in his arms and for a good reason, completely content and at ease for the moment. But more than that, she had seen how he had been ready to sink into her, gliding through each step with ease. He took to the motions almost lovingly, caressing her with his glances, and then handling her delicately when the distance closed and he could touch her.
At last, they quit, Jane disengaging and backing away, regarding Loki openly. He gazed intensely back, trapping her in pools of cool, true emerald green. "Thank you, Jane."
His Adam's-apple bobbed almost nervously. Jane curtsied, grinning faintly. "My pleasure," she mimicked from earlier. Loki reached for her and caught her up suddenly, tickling her sideways. Jane, gasping, escaped. She shot him an accusatory glance. Loki shrugged nonchalantly. "Do not mock me, Jane, and I will not be forced to...get even."
His playful smirk gave away the lack of actual support behind the threat. Silas, who had watched the entire ordeal, meowed loudly.
"He's right," Loki said, going to get their packs, "We should keep moving now that you are once more well."
Not questioning his cat-whispering skills, Jane agreed with an mm-hmm, picked up Silas, and followed him. Not much later, he inquired, voice suspiciously neutral, "How long after you knew Thor did you teach him of the near-touch?"
Jane bit her lip. "I didn't."
Loki halted, turning to her. He kept most emotions tucked away, but curiosity leaked out. "Why?"
Jane crossed her arms underneath her breasts, shrugging. "It just wasn't his style. And it never seemed to fit."
She could tell her response took Loki off-guard. "Why share with me what you could not share with him?"
Jane shook her head. "I don't know. It's just...different, and complicated. And you needed it." She thought she saw something flicker in those unusually non-flirtatious eyes, but it vanished before she could really examine it in the light. She gestured at the general direction they'd been heading.
"Shall we?"
"We shall," Loki replied, carrying on as if nothing had happened. With less reluctance than she had imagined, Jane once more set off after Loki, unaware of how his insides had lit up from such a simple conversation.
Naryu sniffed, gaze darting. "They've been here."
Mordred nodded in agreement, eyes narrowed as they stood in the shadows observing the hurried comings and goings of those nearby. Naryu could make out the essence trail leading directly into a little inn across the way. "There," she said, pointing, and Mordred honed in on the place that her finger indicated. Frowning, he squinted at the sign and read, 'Same As It Never Was'?"
"Yep," Naryu replied determinedly, striding towards the establishment. Mordred kept pace with her, ducking inside after her when she pushed open the door.
She made a beeline for the service counter. She slammed both hands down palm first, leaning forward with elbows bent. The man, who had been scribbling something into his payment ledger, hastily put it away when he saw the look in Naryu's eyes, and the appearance of the eyes themselves.
"Yes?" he squeaked, paling. Between them, on the counter, images began forming that quickly resembled Jane and Loki.
"Have you seen either of these individuals?"
"I promise complete confidentiality," he spluttered, quivering. He crossed his arms.
"For a price, I'm sure," Naryu added pointedly. "Of which I will pay if I must, but I know I don't have to, do I? Not if you know who we are. Especially if you do."
He opened his mouth to speak, but Naryu laid a hand over his. He cringed.
"I will not hurt you. You know that," she cooed, stroking the side of his face. He shivered in fear, flinching. "All I want to know is if you've seen this man or that woman."
"Please, Lady Naryu! This business is all I have, and its reputation is all it has. Please: if word gets out that I have a loose tongue...business is good now. It would not stay so."
"Business is very good," Naryu agreed, nodding and raising her lip. "So good, in fact, that one or two people missing your doorstep when they skip by shouldn't hurt."
"This is all because of the celebrations! You don't understand-"
She flipped his hand over and held it in hers. She bent forward to whisper in his ear. "What I understand, is that you have no right to question me, Ezmil. Now tell me."
She threw his hand away, straightening up to her full height and tossing her hair.
"Mordred," she said softly, just so the three of them could hear her while turning to look at him, "bring me his wife. Perhaps she would like to know he's been having an affair and double dipping into the profits to lavish his mistress."
"My lady, please!" He lowered his voice, eyes darting around fearfully. "Please don't do that to me. I'll do anything. I'll-I'll tell you the truth."
Naryu's lips curled up knowingly. She bent over the counter, the images flickering out of sight. "All right, then, Ezmil, I'm listening."
Almost tearfully, he relayed all he knew. When he finished, Naryu pulled away, mulling the information over. Mordred stood quietly.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Ezmil," Naryu sighed, patting his hand, which he had clenched so tightly into a fist on the counter that his knuckles had turned white. He withdrew it, pushing his glasses further up his nose. Naryu flicked her wrist in a signal, and Mordred produced a small pouch of gold coins that he tossed to Ezmil, nodding curtly.
"Good day, sir," Mordred said politely. He and Naryu turned together, arms looping, and began walking toward the exit. Just as they reached the door, Naryu turned back to him, locking gazes, and said, "Oh, and Ezmil? Don't tell anyone else what we talked about, or I will come for you, and I will spell you out and shatter your perfect little fantasy world."
And then, they had gone. Ezmil pocketed the money and excused himself for the day.
"You didn't have to frighten him to death, you know," Mordred chided. Naryu met his gaze as they reached the outskirts.
"I didn't hurt him...much. Mostly his feelings. Ezmil will get over it. Besides, I paid him for his troubles and kept his secret even though he doesn't deserve it."
"And now he's in your debt and you have leverage in case there are any other...incidences."
"It is not my fault if he has a list of indiscretions a mile long that his wife is completely blind to."
Mordred sighed. "All three of you always were so unrepentant when it came to your dealings."
"Were we?" Naryu paused, pulling him to a halt with her, and gripped his chin lightly, just enough to make sure she could stare directly up at him. "I was only hard so you wouldn't have to be. That's just how it's always been, and old habits die hard, I suppose." She embraced him. "I love you, Mordred. I love all three of you so much it hurts."
"I know you do," he nodded. She smiled and gestured out toward the path ahead.
"We should keep going. We're close, Mordred. He has to know I'm onto him by now. He knows how I work, and I know how he works. It's going to be a tough finals game of hide and seek."
She wrapped her arms around Mordred's neck playfully. "You know how hide and seek has always been my favorite game."
"Yes," he replied, swallowing thickly for having her so close, pressed to him.
"Do you know why," Naryu whispered. Mordred couldn't pry his eyes away from her earnest face. "No," he whispered truthfully.
"Because even before I learned how to get what I wanted or needed at the drop of a hat, it was the one place I could always win."
Chuckling, she spun away from him, running suddenly. "I'll race you," she called out almost childishly. "It's a straight way there!"
Mordred rubbed the heels of his hands into his face, exhaling and sprinting after her.
She paused again a little further on and rummaged around in her bag. After a moment, she pulled out a book, ripping out a blank page, and a pen, hastily scribbling a message. As Mordred watched, she stowed her pen and crumpled up the parchment. The next second, it had caught on fire with her chanting until it vanished. She lowered her hand. Her head rose. She smiled at Mordred, shrugging. "Just a little note passing."
Mordred tilted his head. "To whom?"
Her smile widened. "You'll see."
Darcy fidgeted, glancing around almost nervously at their surroundings. She and Thor sat in a dining hall of Vanaheim, sharing a meal. Chatter permeated the air, with people dancing on the open floor to the music of a band and a sole singer. It was perhaps the most awkward dinner Darcy had ever attended. They had barely spoken until she'd opened her mouth a minute ago. They were to spend the next two days in the city, doing as they wished until the festivities began. Darcy blushed every time she thought about the dress she wore, a beautiful, rich red dress that looked like leaping flames against her skin. Thor kept twiddling with a strand of his hair.
"Why did you bring me here?" Darcy blurted. Thor's utensils clattered onto his plate. He'd dropped them in surprise. He stared at them in further surprise as if unsure how they'd gotten there. It took a long minute before he could look at her, and when he did, he looked absolutely, perfectly tormented.
"Because I wanted to," he whispered.
"And why is that?" Darcy pressed. "Why do you want me here? Why take me to these celebrations here when we could have just stayed where we were?"
"Was it not you who insisted I needed to get out more, Darcy?" Thor replied. Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. Psychology was a real bitch sometimes. She sighed and took another sip from her glass.
"I suppose I did say that," she murmured, tracing the rim with a pinky, "but I didn't exactly envision this." She waved a hand at all around them. "I mean, I took you to a carnival. That hardly compares."
"The festivities are—"
"Don't lie—you're terrible at it. You can't even say it's a big-ass one on steroids."
Thor opened and closed his lips, clamping his mouth shut. Darcy nodded her head in short-lived triumph, not happy at all about being right. She huffed and took a much larger sip of wine.
The door to the street opened and a group of men entered, speaking so loudly that the singer on the dais could no longer be heard. They sat across the room, though a few made interested eyes at Darcy, tracing her figure in ways that made her want to tase each and every one of them repeatedly.
"Thor," she whispered, a warning in her voice. She darted her eyes toward them without turning her head. Thor gave her the smallest of nods in acknowledgement.
"I saw, Darcy." A frown had appeared on his countenance that deepened by the minute.
"Assholes," Darcy muttered. Thor seemed inclined to agree with her. They continued their meal rather peacefully until the same group continued to increase in volume, so much so that Thor eventually stood up abruptly, marching over toward them. Darcy sprang up, unsure of what to do with herself. Then she decided Thor might need someone to watch his back in case the bastards tried to pull something. She still had her taser and that ring that Sigyn had given her before they left, after all. Which was supposed to allow her to use magic—not that she knew how—and heal her from any wound inflicted by another to her, no matter what or how. She hoped she wouldn't accidentally burn down the place trying to teach some fuckwit a few manners. Aza continued singing through it all.
"Excuse me," Thor called out to them. He held his hands out and open. "Pardon my intrusion, but you are being incredibly disruptive." Darcy sidled up beside of him. "Yeah, give poor Aza a chance to do her job instead of acting like a gaggle of un-raised asshats."
Thor chuckled and snorted, an upturn of his mouth flashing briefly. One man who seemed to be the leader stood up, facing him.
"Is that so? You find us distasteful?"
"No, you're absolutely charming," Darcy retorted, dripping sarcasm. Her arms were akimbo, palms flat on her hips. The man switched his focus to her, taking her in from head to toe. "As charming as a hole in someone's skull. You have the manners of an ass"— here she tossed her head—"In other words, you're a great big bag of dicks, and you need to use your inside voices so people can actually hear who they came to hear and not your cacophonous blather."
Darcy felt proud of herself for being able to swear at them and still sound like a college professor. She and Thor watched as the man glanced back at his pack and refocused on them, clasping his hands together in mock beseechment. "Oh, I'm sorry, princess, but are we bothering you? My most humble apologies."
Darcy shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not either of our faults you're a feeble-minded fuckass blatherskite."
She could tell by the set of Thor's shoulders that he hadn't meant to be that blunt outright, and by the expressions of the other men that they were getting angry.
"My companion does not soften her blows," Thor began, "but what she says is true. I advise you leave if you wish to continue your merriment so zealously."
"Oh really?" the first man challenged, and his entire posse stood in unison. "And what might...persuade us?" Darcy didn't know what made her do it, why she was courting danger, but she snipped, "You leaving with some shred of your dignity intact rather than with your tails between your legs, heads bowed in shame and dishonor on you, and your families, and your cows, or whatever other shit you could tag on to the dis list."
Thor might not have reacted so violently if the man had not struck Darcy. As it was, before her ass had even hit the floor, Mjölnir had reunited with Thor's hand and been used to mow down at least half of the men, her assailant one of the first to receive a blow. Darcy scrambled to her feet nursing her arm, newly broken, which had already begun knitting itself back up due to the ring she wore. She flung out her hand wildly, frantic to help in some way, and suddenly a platter flew from across the room and nailed one of the remaining men right between the eyes. She reached for her taser just as her bone finished mending, and stuck it to the one that had assaulted her despite his already being down. One could never be too careful, after all. She gave him a sound kick for good measure, and then turned just in time to trip and tase a man sneaking up behind them.
Blinking, chest heaving, and pumping adrenaline leaving an odd taste in her mouth, she noticed that the entire room had started watching the fight, had become silent while doing so, and now looked on somewhat blankly at Darcy and Thor standing in the middle of about a score and a half unconscious men.
"Well, that escalated quickly," Darcy observed without thinking. Still not a sound from any of the spectators. Then Aza stepped forward haltingly. Her hands raised. Stunned, Darcy saw her begin to clap, not realizing until the others joined in that she and Thor were being applauded. The room erupted into noise of hands meeting, cheers, whistles, and messages of encouragement, thanks, and approval.
"Drinks on the house!" The owner yelled from somewhere, "For everyone!" Another cheer rose. Most of them went back as they were. Aza approached the two of them, who happened to still be stunned at the moment.
"You have my immense gratitude," she gushed warmly, hugging Darcy and curtsying to Thor. "They come in every day and night like that, being incredibly obnoxious, and no one's been able to do anything about it."
"So we basically just whooped a bunch of bullies' sorry asses and got the Nobel Peace Prize to boot," Darcy mused, summing it up in her usual manner.
"Peace?" Thor inquired bemusedly. Darcy threw up her hands defensively, protesting, "What? I believe in a non-violent fist."
Aza threw back her head in a hearty show of amusement. "I like this one. Keep her, will you? She's amusing and fierce."
Thor opened and closed his mouth, unsure of how to respond. Darcy jumped in to save him a bit of face. "We'd do it again," she replied, referring to the earlier part of the discussion. "And your singing voice is beautiful."
She embraced Aza again, who left them to themselves after that. They returned to their table and ate the rest of their meal in a much more at ease manner, though they both were ready to leave and return to their inn. They took a couple refills of wine and shots of other alcoholic beverages. Darcy finished first, waiting patiently for Thor to eat his last bite. As soon as he had, they both took another sip of wine (it was free and limitless, after all) and stood. Darcy's hand slid into Thor's without a second thought. "Let's go," she murmured. Thor obligingly went with her, wanting to get as far away as possible from the scene.
They stumbled into the street, glowing blissfully. Thor slung his arm around her, the spirits helping his mood lift mightily.
"Oh, Darcy Lewis!" Thor boomed, "We drank, we fought - we made our ancestors proud!"
"And we roughed up the rabble~ How does that make you feel, huh?"
"For the one hundredth time in my life, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do," Thor admitted glibly, "but I am improvising as I go along." Darcy snickered. She had to be knockered, what with everything being hilarious at the moment and their unexpected extension of Happy Hour for doing the public service of kicking ass and taking names.
"Same, but at least we look badass doing it. Bad-aaaasssss..."
She stumbled and Thor caught her. "Shit, we're drunk, aren't we?"
She raised her line of sight when Thor did not respond. He was staring at her deeply, almost soulfully, silently demanding she meet his gaze. Darcy felt a sudden lump in her throat. Thor pushed hair out of her face and behind her ear. "We are not so drunk that we are senseless...or thoughtless."
Darcy couldn't suppress a small shiver.
"What do you—?"
"Darcy Lewis, I very much want to kiss you right now. Would you stop me?"
Darcy swallowed, licking her lips. She noticed his eyes flickering between hers and her mouth. "Well," she breathed shakily, "there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"
Suddenly she found herself held against the wall with Thor's hot, moving mouth on hers, not realizing until then that they'd made it into a dark alleyway. How could touching someone you weren't supposed to send little pings of electricity darting just beneath the surface of her skin? How could it ignite an inferno in her depths, depths she could not fathom? How could being so close, but not close enough, make the realms, fuck, the universe, feel like the entire oxygen supply had been suctioned out and the only way to exist, to breathe, goddammit, was to touch him? Her hips swayed and she wound her arms around Thor's neck. He kissed along hers and she gasped. His hands glided over her body on top of her dress, pushing at her clothes. The spirits made the guilt surge away and his fingers danced higher up her side. Any doubt or uncertainty seemed ludicrous, insignificant, as he touched her, and a few faint strains of song came to mind.
...Like the empires of the world unite
We are alive
And the stars make love to the universe
You're my wildfire every single night
We are alive
And the stars make love to the universe
And you touch me...
She could just hear the beat, feel the music throbbing in her veins, a pulse overlapping her own, and suddenly she couldn't care anymore. She felt like she might explode. Her eyes fluttered in the sheer agony of want, of desire, of need. A passage from something she'd read came to mind next as they continued kissing, passion welling up and overflowing. "Almost touching him was like almost breathing. It was like almost living. It was like being cold and almost feeling the heat of a fire." She didn't know for sure where she'd seen it, but oh gods was it ever true in that moment. Thor felt like a live-wire against her, electrocuting her with his presence alone despite the fact that they were only kissing. She hadn't realized how smothered she'd been, how she'd felt bound until then. She nearly wept.
Finally, Thor broke off from his mad dash and simply held her, foreheads touching, both breathing heavily. At first she didn't know he'd been repeating her name, trying to get her attention. And when she became aware of that, everything crashed down on her like a ton of bricks. "Bloody fucking hell," Darcy swore. "What were we thinking?"
She winced at the hurt in Thor's eyes.
"I just meant..." She cupped his face gently, biting her lip. "I don't know anymore."
"Neither do I, Darcy." He continued to scrutinize her smolderingly, waiting to see what she'd decide. Tears came that nearly choked her. "Just take me back to our rooms," she whispered, panting through her mouth to calm herself and brace against the ocean of emotion threatening to drown her. Thor immediately put some distance between them. "Whatever you ask," Thor conceded.
Nodding jerkily, Darcy ascended the stairs with Thor following. Neither of them uttered a sound on the way up. When they got to the wing where their rooms were, Darcy placed a hand on his arm. "Thor, I'm sorry. But you know that was a mistake, don't you? It has to be a mistake."
"A good mistake, Darcy," Thor acknowledged sadly, barely above a hushed whisper. She slipped past him and opened her door an inch, closing it tightly behind her before she could change her mind.
She waited until she heard him go into his own room before she let the tears truly fall, rolling over the planes of her cheeks as Darcy Lewis sobbed into her hand. She slid down her door to the floor, arms pulling her knees to her chest. Every tear she shed that dripped over her lips tasted like bitter poison.
Jane, still amused, threw a bar of soap at Loki as she closed the bathroom door.
"Out! I want a shower, you."
"I do as well," he called through the wooden panels. Jane shook her head exasperatedly. She began readying her things, lining them all up in order, running the water and tipping something sweet-smelling she thought to be bubble-bath into the water. A moment later, the frothy bubbles began populating the surface of the bathwater. Jane dipped a toe in to test the temperature, then clambered into the warm pool, steam rising. Sighing, she scrubbed herself clean top to bottom, all manner of things coming off of her from her most recent travels. She watched the stuff swirling contemplatively as she rinsed, rivulets of water meandering downward.
When she heard an exclamation from the other room, she bolted to her feet, scrambling out onto the cold floor and grabbing a towel. She flung the door open and rushed out, still dripping water and breathing heavily, heart fluttering with fear. "What's wrong? What happened? Loki, are you all—"
She saw him sitting on the bed holding a piece of parchment, scanning it over and over. She could tell it had been crumpled up as if it were being thrown away in the trash. Jane pulled the towel more securely about her.
"What-what is that?" Jane breathed. He barely seemed to hear her. She went forward until she could sit beside of him, gently easing it out of his hands. She laid it over his lap and smoothed it out to try and read what was written—she could just make out sharp, slanting letters on the page. It had been an extra page of a book. It read:
'If you think I won't find you, you are wrong, brother. N is for Naryu, not Neophyte.
Coming for you.'
By the look on his face, she knew that despite it not being signed, it had to have come from Naryu herself. Jane felt her mouth go dry. Coming for you echoed dully in her mind. She shivered. Looking back up, she found Loki almost glowering into the distance.
"So she believes," he said aloud. He latched his sights onto Jane. "Looks as if we shall have to leave before morning and make a midnight getaway."
"And the festival?" Jane asked, not sure why she actually felt disappointed.
"Out of the question to stay for its entirety," Loki sighed, cradling his head between his hands, bent over, elbows digging into his knees.
"Why?" Jane found herself asking. He turned his head to regard her from underneath his arm. It cast a shadow across his features.
"Because she knows me too well. She knows it is a weakness for me. The sentiment is too great..."
"Then why go at all?" Jane whispered. He dropped his arms away and straightened.
"Because I have to, Jane. It's the one pure thing I have left. I can't taint it, and neither can anyone else. She knows that and she'll try to use it against me."
Jane shifted uncomfortably. She could use the festival to get away from him for good. But would she? After all, if she were honest with herself, she'd committed crimes of her own, and might not be accepted back into the fold as easily as when her hands were clean and not drenched in blood. Broodingly, she reached over to the nightstand to pick up one of her books to lay it on the bed. Just then Silas darted out and knocked it out of her hand. It hit the floor spine-first and fell open to where she had left the marker. What looked like a photo fluttered out. Surprised, Jane bent to pick it up, gasping when she saw what it was that had been captured on film. Waveringly, she called Loki. He still held the note from Naryu between trembling fingers, but quickly gave her his full attention. Jane had started shaking so hard that she couldn't open her fingers to give it to him. He eased it from her hand, paling when he saw what she had seen: a shot of them from earlier that day, just after he finished feeding her the berries whole; a shot of them making out. He turned it over. On the back, it said:
I know what you did, and I know you don't kiss and tell. If only Thor could see how guilty you two look now.
-A
P.s: Check the bed sheets.
"Check the bed sheets?" Jane said aloud, having read it over his shoulder. "What—?"
She yanked Loki to his feet, ripping back the sheets. Splayed all over the bed were pictures of their tryst. A sound came out of Jane like that of a wounded animal. She fell to her knees. "What are we going to do?"
She looked up at Loki pleadingly, hoping he had the answer.
He didn't.
Utterly dejected and spent from crying her eyes out, Darcy laid on her side in the floor, desperately trying to make the pain stop, to make it go away for just a second. Never in her entire life had she felt quite so miserable and horrible. It hurt to think about it, it hurt to act, and it hurt to refrain from acting. Everything hurt, essentially. Darcy zoned out, completely taken aback to find Thor had been knocking, and apparently for several minutes. Vacantly, she got to her feet and opened the door for him. "What do you want?" Darcy snapped hollowly. Thor, startled, said nothing, although he handed her a large brown envelope with his name on it. Darcy stared at it a moment.
Coming back to herself, Darcy waved him into the room. "Come on and get inside. No use standing in the hallway taking up space like a knot on a log."
Thor came in guiltily. He kept his back to her even after she had bolted the door shut. "Look inside of it," he said quietly. He sounded broken, like a windup toy that had been dropped off of a balcony. Darcy walked over to the desk in the room and shook out the contents. Another envelope and a note fell out. Darcy picked up the note.
Know what your fiancée has been up to? I do. Thought you should too.
-A
"What the hell?" Darcy muttered confusedly.
"It worsens," Thor told her, massaging his temples. "Open the other envelope, Darcy."
Darcy picked it up, turning it over and over, and, finding no other information on the outside, upended the smaller envelope. Pictures spilled out onto the dark wood. Darcy's eyes widened. "Oh n-to-the-damn-o."
She grabbed a few, walking up to Thor. She held them up clutched tight. "Is this who I think it is? Tell me these aren't pictures of Jane and Loki making out and knocking boots and fucking dancing." She threw the evidence of just that to the floor angrily.
"I have felt like a light switch," Darcy said at last, livid, trembling. "Switching on and off, back and forth. And for what? I don't like that feeling, Thor. Especially when I don't have to stretch myself thin for someone who clearly couldn't care less." Thor messed with his hair.
"I do not much enjoy this predicament, either."
"So what do we do? It's all or nothing, Thor."
She crossed her arms defensively, walking over to the window and staring out at the street below. Thor hesitated before walking to her side. Another gasping sob rose in her throat before she got a chance to smother it, and Darcy, shuddering and despairing, whirled to face him, hitting him with her fists. She wailed her frustration, tears blurring her vision. "I give up trying!" she screeched, "I give it all up right here, today! I'm finished. Fuck it all, just...I'm done fighting." The vase on the mantle of the fireplace exploded, and they both flinched. She gave up ranting and flung her arms around him, still crying. Thor, speechless and at a total loss, at first couldn't even make his arms rise to hold her up. Eventually, he came to his senses and helped her sit on the edge of the bed. Darcy crawled away and curled up on her side facing away from him. "Go away," she sniffed. "I can't look at you right now." The flowers scattered throughout the broken glass wilted.
Thor tried extending his hand to her, but she twitched away. "Darcy—"
"Just go!" Darcy screamed at him. Thor sighed, defeated, but decided to stay put.
"No."
Darcy sat up and made a face. "Why not?"
"Because you need me."
Darcy laughed bitterly. "Do I?"
Thor held her cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing away some of the damp splotches.
"Yes, Darcy, you do, as I need you. We make an excellent combination."
"I suppose we do work well together," she smirked. Suddenly she outright cackled. "Remember the looks on their faces?"
Thor nodded cautiously. Darcy came back from the moment of hysteria and eyed him soberly. "Stay? I don't wanna be alone."
Thor situated himself on the bed and Darcy snuggled up to him, laying her head on his chest. Thor stroked her hair out of the way. It was nearly unbearable to Darcy then. All their pain and trying to be noble had been for Jane, and it had amounted to nothing. There would be no getting back for Jane. They could stop pretending. No more ignoring their feelings, not if they didn't want to. She couldn't resist anymore: she wanted him to touch her like he had before, so very, very much, so very, very soon. Almost as if he could sense the transition, he did.
"Darcy," he whispered, tracing her jawline. His other hand trailed up her side, cupping her breast through her dress. Darcy tugged at his shirt until she finally got him free of it. She had barely blinked, but somehow as his lips danced with hers he had ended up undoing her dress and sliding it off of her. The war in her mind seemed a million miles away as he clawed his way out of the rest of his clothing. Darcy ran her hands over any part of Thor she could reach. Thor haltingly drew her body against his, tentatively caressing her the way someone turns fine china over in their hands. "Thor," Darcy breathed, "you're going to ruin me. You know that, don't you?"
"I know it, Darcy," Thor whispered, emotion strangling him. "And you me."
He kissed her again, strumming over her spine like guitar strings, a hand on her hip holding them together, steadying them enough for him to push inside of her. Darcy spasmed. The feelings from earlier when he'd kissed her outside the inn came rushing back, drowning her. She wouldn't be close enough to him if she crawled into him. It was too much and too little all at once. Her pulse thrummed erratically. His touch made her burn up as if with fever. She squeezed his hip. Their hands met, and, just like earlier, Darcy's hand slid into Thor's without a second thought.
Outside, the sky opened up and it began to rain.
Muahahaha, to be continued, my pretties~ Not what you were expecting?
Love,
L.
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