Mortal Questions

Chapter 11

Loki wanders aimlessly between worlds, using his trickery to survive. It isn't easy. His fine leathers and silks from Asgard are in tatters by the time he makes his way back to Midgard nearly four years after his departure. He is tired. He knows he is far enough from anyone pursuing him that it is safe for a moment of rest- the first in his entire time on the run. He doesn't bother changing his clothes, but casts an illusion to appear less rough. He walks through Harlem trying to determine the time. It is dark. There are few lights on in the shops. He doesn't know if Violetta will be at the theatre, but there are lights on when he arrives, so he lingers in the alley, hiding in shadow and magic. He sees her step out last, locking the door after her.

She starts to walk away when he calls to her, "Violetta. Please. Wait."

She freezes and turns slowly to see who is behind her, not trusting the name her memory tells her to expect, "Yes?"

He steps into the light, "Hello."

She runs to him and throws her arms around him, "Oh my god, it's you."

"I can't stay, but I need rest. Just a few hours. Please, can you help?"

She looks at him carefully, noticing the glimmer under her hands that looks so much like the illusions he cast in her dressing room years before, "Is this really you? Why are you shiny?" She pokes him and stares at the glow.

"I...appear considerably less appealing, let's just leave it at that. I need to bathe and acquire comfortable clothing."

"Are you safe?"

"No. But I have a little time before they catch up to me. I will be gone before then. I promise. I won't endanger you."

She takes his hand and leads him from the alley and down the street. They walk several blocks before she puts his arm around her waist and they walk considerably closer together.

After a few more blocks, he stops her and pulls her against him, chest to chest, "May I kiss you?"

"Loki, I... It's been four years."

"I'm sorry. That's a lot longer time for you than it is for me." He bows his head, "It was rude to assume you still even could."

"I'm not married or attached or anything if that's what you mean." He nods and drops his arms to his side.

"I still shouldn't be so forward. I apologize. These past few years have left me with little company." He offers her his arm, "Shall we continue?"

She nod and slips her arm through his, "Yes." After a few steps, though, she stops and turns to face him, "I've missed you." She touches his face and pushes his hair back, then goes up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. His lips part and he gasps near silently, an involuntary little sound that surprises her. "You're so eager..." she says, her face still close to his.

"Isn't there a saying about absence making one's heart fonder?"

"Is that it? Or are you desperate for any contact? Would any woman do?"

He brushes his nose against hers, "I came here for a reason, Violetta." She teases, little nipping kisses against his mouth.

"Let's get to my place, then. A quiet sanctuary."

"Please." They walk with arms around one another to an alley. She turns down it and walks to a fire escape. She climbs the stairs and he follows her up the creaking metal. On the fourth floor, she climbs onto a balcony and unlocks a door. She steps in and turns on the light.

The apartment is large and open, a single room with a bathroom carved out of the back wall between two large windows, a laundry station beside it. There are few amenities. An ancient stove and refrigerator. A porcelain farmhouse sink with double drainboards supported on cast iron pipe legs. A battered dining table. A few bookshelves made of boards and cinder blocks. A record player sits on old apple crates that hold the albums. There is a small end table stacked with electronic pieces and her computer. A rack of her clothes with plastic baskets below it holding socks and underwear. And her bed, a mattress and box spring on the floor beside a milk crate with a piece of scrap granite countertop affixed to the top as a nightstand.