2.
But of course no answer came. Still, as Thor took his first steps into the dark of the house, it seemed that everywhere he trod footfalls ran away from him like an echo, only the echo had been there first.
The main hall curved off to rooms, one left and one right; Thor went first to one and then the other, turning lights on as he went. He did not mean to be so free with the electricity in future but just for now, seeing it all for the first time, he figured it was worth it. He had never owned a place this big; even luxury in the city came packed into a small space and he had never before seen a place that was just his. Though the more he got a feel of these rooms, the more he wondered if that really was the case.
The place came with its own furniture. Thor, from the point at which he had stopped to stand in the living room, could only guess at how old some of this was. It was almost more exciting than the place, pulling off the dustsheets that looked as though they had lain there for years. Most of the items were wood. Thor had to scratch it gently to check that this was true and from the little he knew of trees it did seem to be. He would have to ask someone about that. They hadn't made furniture from real wood for over a hundred years.
After the first tentative explorations Thor began pulling away the dust sheets with almost childish excitement; it was like opening presents. He supposed a whole new life was a pretty big present. He found himself overwhelmed, very simply, by how brown everything was; wood everywhere in startling contrast to his old apartment's Perspex and chrome. There was even a real piano in the corner left of the window, crouched in readiness like an exotic beast. He could not think of anyone even mentioning having seen a piano in their lifetime. It gathered shadows beneath its pedals like nervous but deadly young. Later, he decided; maybe he could even get online – electricity permitting – see if he could find a basic how – to –play video.
He sat down quite suddenly, sinking into an armchair, dizzy at the understanding of all that he now owned. He had known, in theory, that the house came furnished but the reality of seeing it all was something else altogether. Then the act of sitting down was so bouncy, so soft that he stood up again, surprised. He almost laughed out loud and, poking the seat cushion, sat down again more gently. An armchair of all things! He was glad he had done some reading and knew some of these names of objects.
To think, he pondered, looking around, taking it all in – or trying to – he had come here to get away from the close binding capitalism of megacity life and would up in possession of so much stuff. But then again, it was such stuff as city people rarely dreamed. Strange, that one had to be so rich to afford the simplicity of the countryside. He wondered what it was that had drawn him to this archaic way of living his whole life, but drawn he had been, most certainly.
This house, even with his never having known of such a place, felt right to him like the city had never done; almost as though it were the very place that had always called to him. It felt as though he had come home and he found himself smiling out loud at the feeling as he had not smiled in longer than he could remember.
With the smile came a deep breath as he sank back into the chair, ready to get used to the feeling. It was only when he felt a gentle caress to the side of his face that he realised it was not a deep breath that he had made.
Thor did not jump at the shock of realisation, but his forehead knitted even as he turned his head with curious instinct into the fingers that so clearly ran down the edge of his ear where it met his jawline. He turned his face into it like a long lost lover. Slowly, as though only half aware that he was missing something, his eyes followed the turn of his head to see who or what had appeared behind him.
There was nothing there.
Thor blinked hard, unaware really why he was so surprised. He stood up and raised his hand to his face, dismayed at himself for acting like a young girl in a story. But then, hadn't he read all those long ago stories and wanted to be a part of them? Was not this, why he was here? His head was telling him to be afraid, but nothing in his chest seemed to want to hear it.
He had come to the island, to the house on the cliff top to be alone. Not only that, but largely that. Within the space of a heartbeat he had learned not only that he was certainly not alone here, but that he somehow did not mind.
The house. He should look around the rest of the house. He knew it, more as though someone had nudged him or whispered in his ear than because he had come up with the idea himself.
The room to the right was a formal dining room. It took only a very short exploration for Thor to decide that he would probably not be spending much time in there. Certainly not alone. In the front hall the base of the stairs was so wide it covered all but a narrow corridor to the right. Following this corridor now he came to the kitchen. He almost gasped aloud. Back home, kitchens were a few cubic feet, functional boxes and little more. This was – this was – he almost wanted to cry. He loved cooking, however silly everyone had always thought he was for wanting to do such things himself, and the thought of being able to play for hours in a space like this was almost more incredible than pianos and armchairs put together. A huge long window above the sink and back counters looked out onto the garden and allotment. Looking out was almost as exciting as the kitchen. There was a red door off to the right, bright with peeling paint that he almost wanted to head straight out of. He could look over the grounds, the space in which food really grew in the soil – he had arranged for a stack of books to be sent to the house ahead of him to teach him how, and Mjoll had promised to help him too. Plus he could rely on her to fix the falling down sheds out there and help him figure out how the solar panels worked. He had a moment of giddy schoolboy excitement at all the things he had to do, a curious urge to high five the air beside him and the strange feeling that it might high five him back.
He felt, standing in that cheery kitchen, as though his joy, his enthusiasm were awakening something in the house and, even though, he had once thought he wanted his new life to be a solitary one, he could not have felt warmer or more golden at the feeling of this company. He decided to leave the garden for today; it was starting to grow dark outside and he realised, with a sudden rush, how tired he was. Thankfully there was a little edible food in a cupboard and he did not have to start working out how the oven worked. It took him more than twenty minutes just to make tea with a kettle. He wondered, as he sat at the solid wood table in the kitchen, who had left these bits for him and made a mental note to find out and thank them.
As if he could even experience more today as well, the food tasted amazing. There was bread and butter and cheese, all broken down into their component slabs rather than an instant sandwich. It occurred to Thor that in fact they might come like this first, given the natural order of things. He cut bits off with a kitchen knife, hoping he was doing it right. The bread tore in chunks and had multiple textures and the cheese was salty and strange and almost unbearably good. A curious need to share the experience led him to leave the last small bit on a plate on the table when he got up to go upstairs. Like an offering, he supposed, to whatever gods or beings were sharing this experience with him. He bewildered himself by doing it but it felt right nonetheless.
Following the curve upstairs of the great sweeping staircase Thor began to feel as though he were walking in a dream. So much so that he had to go back downstairs, half way up to get the two suitcases he would need upstairs and then again to turn off all the lights and find a switch downstairs for the one on the landing.
Upstairs consisted of one long corridor running right and a bathroom to the left. There was an actual library in one room. He wished he had the energy to look closer or at the study opposite but picking a bedroom seemed far more important just for now. He eventually settled for the one to the left by the gothic window at the end of the corridor and dumped his cases on the floor in relief.
He thought that he would sleep as soon as he got into bed. But then he thought. First he thought about the house, each little part of it, then of all the parts he had not seen. Then he thought about the journey, running it in reverse all the way back to his flat on the Asgard side of the city. He thought about his mother, who he supposed he should have called, and of his father's funeral; seeing Mjoll again for the first time in eight years and realising it would never matter how long they went for; they would always pick up at the same place each time. How the little she said about life on the island made him certain he had to be here.
Then, again, he thought about the house, walked all over it again in his mind and it seemed to him that everywhere he walked another walked beside him. He could almost reach out and touch their hand. He wondered if the house was haunted or if there was any such thing. He wondered if he should shut the bedroom door and felt a certain mad delight in knowing there was no need, not here with just him. He wondered how long he had lain in bed wondering and eventually turned out the light.
The darkness that came was strange and silvery and when the shadows came out to play in it Thor sat back up in bed, more awake than he had been in ages.
Whoever it was had decided to refer to shadows as things that could play at all – they hadn't been kidding, and what Thor observed that first night at Chistleworth convinced him, not only that a shadow could jape and make fun but that they were sly things composed out of mischief and bursting with tricks.
_x_
I wanted to get further than this! I wanted Thor to see the shadows and have his first haunted dreams in this chapter, I really did – but he took so long exploring the house that that's all you get – Loki will have to wait until chapter 3 now! Also I guess now is the time to admit that this is gonna be very hella slow burn – if that wasn't already apparent, so if you're not prepared to wait a lot of chapters for developments you might wanna back out now, having said that I DO know exactly what we are moving towards and will get there in my own sweet time and also there WILL be more Loki such as he is in the next chapter! Thank you and pleasant dreams of Loki ghosts! :-)