EPITHET || [l. loki]

vi. Dances and Turmoil

──⇌•♚•⇋──

❝How long is this fucking dance?❞

"DO YOU HAVE a plan?" Cyra asked. 'Why do you make me feel so conflicted?' she wanted to ask as she reluctantly placed her hand over his

"No, we just stroll in. I have something in mind," Loki said, annoyance showing in his tone, taking her hand to the side as they moved forward.

"So you do have a plan. I would be glad if you were to share it."

"Follow my instructions."

"I take orders from no one," she snapped back. 'What does your true face look like?' she wanted to ask, 'Why do I care so much?'

"Well, then, don't be surprised when you fail Thanos and I won't..." Loki retorted. All fear shown towards her father in the past conversation seemed to evaporate before her.

She hissed in annoyance then went silent. Giving in anger wouldn't be the smartest thing to do at the moment. The Norse god truly confounded her. If Loki was veritably the man before her now, who was that smart, polite man she was on the rooftop with? 'Who are you really?' she almost questioned out loud as he led them down the long set of stairs. "I don't see our target," she muttered as her eyes fluttered around the door, half-conscious of Loki's partially-unwanted arm around her waist.

"He hasn't made his entrance yet," he whispered in her ear, linking their arms as he led her toward the center of the chandelier-lit space.

"So we are early after all."

"Nothing such as early, darling. We're right on time," Loki raised a hand, causing Cyra to tense as he moved it down to her chin, tilting her head towards the right, where the host was descending the stairs. She shivered as his cold touch lingered on her skin, bronze almost glowing gold under the lighting.

"We should make a move then," Cyra quickly responded, pulling away and turning away from the god to catch a better look at their target. When her head turned back, she noticed Loki staring at his hand like he was in a trance. "What is it?"

His eyes flickered to hers, the intensity within knocking her back a step, "Nothing." His reply was 'Nothing' but as soon as she started toward the host, he grabbed her arm, "You can't expect nothing to happen when all those mortals are swarmed around him."

"What do you propose we do, then?"

Loki stared off in that direction for a minute before he offered his hand again, instigating a laugh from Cyra, "Would you like to dance?"

"I cannot," she breathed between laughter as she swatted his hand away, "I literally cannot."

"I shall teach you then," the expression that came across his face made her double into even more hysterics, "There are no living beings of Asgard who do not know how to dance. Perhaps you just need a skillful teacher."

"Don't regret this," she grinned as she placed her hand over his, allowing him to lead them across the marbled floor.

"I won't," the confidence in his tone never wavered. It was almost astounding.

Cyra was sure she had never felt so panicked before as her feet moved wildly under her black dress, "In the meantime, I believe I have the plan to lure him away without causing a scene."

"Do tell... Cyra."

She naturally exhaled at the familiar yet rare calling of her name, "I'll dance with him. When the time comes, I'll silence him."