Mortal Questions

Chapter 9

After supper, Loki walks Thor back to his apartment. Thor cannot stand the silence and attempts to converse as Loki makes coffee.

"I still do not understand your attachment to Violetta, brother."

"As I did not yours for Jane. Was it not a similarly short time in which you fell for her?"

"Yes, but-"

"But you weren't a wicked, evil creature at the time. Yes, I know. It should be impossible for me."

"Loki..."

He sighs and sits on the couch, "Thor, can you not simply be happy that I have found someone? That I have one friend in the Nine outside of yourself with whom my heart is satisfied?"

"Are you asking me to accept that you were wrong?"

"In this one instance, yes."

"Oh ho! Then it truly must be a monumental thing, if proud Loki will admit to his fault," Thor laughs. But Loki doesn't find it funny.

His shoulders slump, "Proud Loki has been wrong in so many ways."

Thor stops and sits beside him; he puts a hand on the back of Loki's shoulder, "Your heart is heavy."

"So often, yes."

"But with Violetta, you feel better?"

"Yes."

"More yourself, even if you do not know what that means?"

"Yes."

Thor pats Loki's back, "Then you have found something remarkable indeed." He takes a deep breath, "Give me just a little more time before you go to her."

They sit close together on the couch while watching an old television show until Thor is snoring. Loki picks up his bag and leaves, his phone still on the nightstand. He walks into the early night, the streetlamps replacing the sunset. When he reaches the theatre, the back door is locked. He lets himself in, locking the door behind him and tucking the key in his watch pocket. The theatre is quiet as he first starts walking, but then there is music coming from the stage. He walks faster, wondering what she is doing.

He steps through the side curtain and into the dining area. The lyrics of the song are striking- something that catches his ear as soon as he understands the words.

I was born sick
But I love it
Command me to be well

On the stage, Violetta dances. It is not the sexual dance of these previous nights. There are no others. No stage settings. She wears some sort of band binding her breasts under a sheer silk sleeveless tunic that barely brushes past the short nude trunks covering her rear. The grace and strength in her poses as she goes up on her toes in hard-tipped shoes is unlike anything Loki has ever seen. He leans against the apron of the stage on crossed arms, gaping at the way her muscles move under her skin, at her athleticism, a side of her he has never seen.

The song is intense, too, from its music to its lyrics, and the tempo shifts between verse and chorus and bridge. She dances with a surgical precision and intense power so different from her show material. So he watches, staring in awe.

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

She doesn't react to his presence, rehearsing her piece with dedicated steps and focus. She leaps, soars, spins, and drops to do floor work. He has never seen someone move like she does, her body the art itself. And then the music stops as she folds herself onto the floor. She holds her pose for a moment, frozen in the dance. After a moment held in silence, she relaxes, dropping back into herself.