Creature at the Festival
With ‘superlative’ care, it takes the full three days for my hand to heal. In the meantime, I’ve been passing the time in bed, propped up against the wall with a book and paper in my lap—sketching the view outside my window. Granted, it’s been hard to do with the cuts on my hand, which is why it’s also taken me the full three days, as opposed to my usual hour at the most.
On the third morning, Loki comes up to my room around midday.
“Good morning,” he says, and his long, green cape trails over his ankles as he steps over the topmost stair. He pauses for a moment, scanning the little balls of paper strewn about the floor, before continuing toward me.
I look up, hand flattened relaxedly against the page, and lower the book down onto my blanket-covered lap. “Morning,” I respond.
Loki strides over to the foot of the bed, eyes dropping down to the sketch. “Finished that one, did you?”
I nod, glancing down at it. “Yeah, this one’s less embarrassing,” I mumble, taking the corner of the page and holding it up against the light before me—where all the tiny strokes and smudges of the graphite are plainly visible against the sheet. It’s far from perfect, but not offensive either.
“Glad to hear it,” he says, stepping over to the window. “But I suggest you take a rest—it may interest you to see what’s going on outside.”
I raise a brow suspiciously, nudging the book and paper toward the right, and blanket to the left. The night gown I was given trails behind me as I slide off the mattress, and the chill, hardwood floor cools my feet as I step closer to the window.
I look up at Loki, and his head sways slightly as he surveys the ground for a moment. “There,” he mumbles, tapping a finger against the glass as a gesture to my right.
I turn, nearly pressing my face against the glass to see what he’s talking about. Through the myriad of large spaceships and other airborne vessels, I see the courtyard that we entered into from afar. Only this time, I can vaguely make out a small crowd that’s layered against the sides, with two or three people moving about sporadically in the middle.
“What’s going on?” I mumble, and my breath fogs up the glass.
“No idea,” he says, as I turn and face him. "But if you’ve recovered, it may be the occasion to make good on our plans.”
I nod contemplatively as I step away from the glass, running my hands over the top of my hair. We discussed it at length a few days ago, how we’d go down to the ground, and Loki would hocus-pocus us a brand new pair of faces. The idea’s so much more amusing to me than it should have been—especially when he mentioned he could even change us into Olen and his father. Oh, the carnage that’d assuredly ensue…
“I agree. And we have our plan,” I exhale sharply and step back, raising both hands in front of me in a gesture. “So go ahead and do it, just… Make it fast.”
Loki tilts his head wryly. “What—didn’t like it the first time?”
I wince slightly, remembering how he’d changed my appearance for a moment the other day, to give me an idea of how it’d go. Call it a bone-deep sensation…
“Well,” I shrug sarcastically. “First time’s always the worst.”
Loki blinks and looks away, brows rising with a subtle grin. “Are you ready?” he croaks amusedly.
“Mhm,” I respond in like.
“Good,” he says, looking back, and waves a hand quickly through the air without warning.
With a flash of light, I shudder as the familiar feeling of brushing fabrics erupts all over my skin, and pressure presses outward from inside my ears and cheeks. I look up at Loki, whose hair is now a light brown color, and his pale blue eyes are a deeper shade of blue. The sides of his face and neck are etched with green tattoos, and his leather uniform is replaced by a dark green shirt with a long, sleeveless blazer-vest with hanging, metallic embellishments.
I look down at myself next—at the patterned, half-sleeved dress tumbling over the curves of my body, and ending at my knees. To top off the simplistic look, my unchanged hair spirals over my shoulder in a loose, elegant braid, and green tattoos spread across my own exposed skin.
I look up at him, raising a brow. “I take it green’s your favorite color?”
Loki grins, wrinkling his nose with a demonstrative nod. “It’s quite ‘me.’”
The corner of my mouth curls with a grin. “Fair enough,” I raise both hands to my hips. “So now what?” I cock my head in the direction of the door. “Are we going down the way we came up?”
“No other way—if you’re ready.”
I turn briefly, glancing down at the book resting on the unmade bed, along with the the dark leather suit hanging over one of the frames.
“Mhm,” I bob my head downward. “I think I’m ready.”
***
Loki and I take the same elevator that brought us to the top of the tree, and make our way through the triage of halls and through the first exit that we see—another small entry point between two wrinkles of the trunk. With Loki to my right, we stride along a path, and out into the metropolis.
A festival—that’s what’s going on out here, judging by the music and decor. The paths are especially festive, and are lightly covered by wispy canopies of fine, silver strings and metal pendants. They’re beautiful to look at on their own, as they gleam brightly—despite the warm, yet cloudy weather—and flicker reflectively in the shadows of the spaceships flying by.
“Wow,” I murmur, slowing down along the path. Loki slows as soon as he notices me falling behind, and I trudge on beside him, looking up at the sights and sounds surrounding us.
In the daytime ambiance, I can also see that the stands and shops extend outward into taller, residential structures, stretching higher and higher into the air as they near the neighboring trees. Some of them even twist and rise over the bases, and along the trunks themselves. It’s strange, because I would’ve expected the ‘main’ one—the one with the throne room—to be at the center of this massive forest. Instead, it’s almost like they placed it intentionally at the edge of the forest, to be some kind of guarding entity.
And really, if I thought this place was impressive before, it’s simply breathtaking now. The air in my immediate space is filled with the sweet aroma of fresh pastries, and all the stands are laden with a variety of gadgets, jewels, and elegant textiles. But the large, winding paths—those are the true jewels of the festival. The people themselves are garnishing them with a multitude of beautiful wardrobes, smiles, and pleasant-sounding conversation.
“It’s like walking through a foreign country,” I remark.
“Hm,” Loki bobs his head, glancing at me briefly. “Midgard must be more interesting than I give it credit for.”
I shake my head—glancing briefly in the direction of three bright voices breaking out into melodic song.
“No, it's not like this,” I pause, gandering at the sudden group of soldiers walking by us, hands resting on their blade hilts. I gesture to them, “Although, that's pretty familiar…”
Loki turns and peers at them, waiting for them to pass before responding. “See much of your militia?”
I nod, looking back. “Yeah, that kind of security…” I glance up at him. “It’s not usually a good sign.”
Loki tilts his head agreeably. “They did mention something about unrest.”
“Yeah—the war,” I say. “But they didn’t tell us anything about it.”
“Right,” he says. “They must know the power of information.”
I slow to a stop at an empty corner and turn to face him with crossed arms, while the bustle continues on around us. “What do you mean?” I ask quietly.
His brow flickers secretively as he looks about us, and steps closer, narrowing his eyes. “Well think about it,” he says in a low, smooth tone, tilting his head to the side as he turns, and peers down at me intently. I don’t think he’s ever stood this close to me, and I can practically feel the energy and heat radiating off of him.
He continues softly, “Some fragile creature appears in your world, at the cusp of some discord, and you believe that it can help—are you prepared to divulge the death and horror it’d be involving itself with?”
Death and horror…
Tension flickers in my chest, but I’m not entirely sure whether it’s from that notion—or him.
I blink, looking up at Loki. “I’m not fragile…” I protest softly.
The corner of his mouth curls amusedly as I glance down at it. “No—of course not,” he says sarcastically.
I inhale lightly, looking away. “Okay, well…” I exhale, shifting outward just a bit, creating a bit of distance before my face starts turning red. “All in good time—that’s why we’re here,” I glance to the right, toward the sound of music in the distance, and push off the wall that I’d been leaning on. “Come on, let’s see where that music’s coming from.”
I glance back at him briefly before continuing down the path, where the music grows louder and louder, until it’s close enough for the instruments to be discernible. When the path finally comes to an opening, we come to another large courtyard, where a small crowd of people lines the edges—just as we’d seen from my bedroom window. Loki brushes against my backside as he steps between the crowd, and up beside me with crossed arms.
On the far end of the courtyard is a sizable group of musicians, and I look around at the random partnering of two to three individuals, striding into the middle of the courtyard, and dancing to the upbeat, jovial music.
I grin, and a deep, nostalgic warmth simmers in my chest as I observe them dancing, studying the style of movement and appreciating the beautiful garments flying around their bodies—like they were made for this.
Back in time, one class was all it took—one fine arts requirement, and this became a hobby all through undergrad, for my friends and me. “I could get used to this,” I mumble quietly.
With his arms crossed, Loki turns and glances at me. “Of everything we’ve seen—this fascinates you?”
“You’ve no idea,” I say earnestly, shaking my head. “My friends and I did things like this in college—social events and such, it was such a great way to meet people,” I pause for a moment, as a dark mental cloud douses my enthusiasm. “While it lasted, anyway…” I mutter.
My voice trails off as Loki nods in acknowledgement. “While it lasted?” he repeats.
“Yeah,” I exhale lightly through my nostrils. “I, uh…” I shrug. “I met someone who ruined it for me.”
I glance up, seeing Loki’s brow rise and fall dramatically. “I see,” he says emphatically. “Started with a dance, and became someone’s lover, I presume?”
“Well…” I mumble quietly, tilting my head as I stare ahead. “Not willingly.”
In the corner of my eye, I see Loki peering at me motionlessly. After a moment, I turn and look up at his expression—completely blank, but thoughtful in its own way.
“It’s alright,” I shrug again, grinning nonchalantly. “It was a while ago, and he got what he deserved.”
The corners of Loki’s mouth twist downward as he nods. “So he’s dead, then?”
My brows furrow amusedly. “What?” I say laughingly as I look up at him, eyeing his icy, somber expression. “No—he’s just gonna have a hard time finding a job when he gets out of jail.”
Loki bobs his head slightly in acknowledgment, and his eyes turn downward for a moment. “I wonder if you considered going back to it?” he continues, looking back up at me.
I nod. “Yeah, I did actually. After a while,” I sigh heavily. “But, New York wasn’t really the same by the time I made up my mind.”
Loki pauses.
“New York?” he mutters quietly.
“Yeah,” I nod. “It’s a city on the other side of the country where I live. I moved there for school, and lived just outside it for a while. Then we had these bizarre terrorist attacks—left half the city in ruins,” I pause. “And it just wasn’t the same after that. I moved to Los Angeles a year later.”
“Were you…” his voice trails off for a moment. “There? When it happened?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I was in traffic that day, outside of town. First time I was ever felt grateful for it.”
Loki pauses as the music stops. “I see,” he continues. “Did they… Apprehend the culprit?” he asks, as the crowd begins to shift.
“No,” I shake my head. “At least, not that I know of. They pointed a lot of fingers, but that was it. Usually someone takes the ‘glory’ when these things happen,” I look up at him. “But no one did. Not that it’s surprising, they would’ve had the whole damn world and the Avengers on their trail.”
“Ah, yes…” Loki purses his lips into a tight smile. “The Avengers.”
“You’ve heard of them?” I look up at him.
“All too much,” he says matter-of-factly. “I have a brother among them.”
My eyes widen. “Seriously? Which one?”
“Thor.”
“Thor?!” I exhale sharply. “Oh, I hear he’s the nicest guy,” I smile, shaking my head. “Such a small world, isn’t it? Er, worlds. Were you ever one of them?”
Loki pauses. “One of the Avengers?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
Loki’s lips thin into a smile as he continues staring ahead. After his moment, his throat bobs up and down, and a deep chuckle rises in his throat.
I smile, catching some of the amusement. “What? What is it?”
“If you knew the irony…” he croaks in a low, laughing voice.
“Well tell me,” I nudging his arm. “Maybe I’ll laugh too!”
He turns his head to the side and peers down at me with a smile. “Let’s just say that I don’t get along with my brother, and leave it at that—I’d prefer discussing why you never kept on dancing.”
I narrow my eyes amusedly for a moment. “Well alright,” I croon. “I mean, it just didn’t feel the same. But to be honest, I’m starting to remember how much fun I had doing this,” I nod at the courtyard.
“Excuse me,” says a voice to my right. I blink, turning my head sharply toward a group of three, tall figures standing beside us. “Forgive me,” says the second tallest. “I couldn’t help but overhear—but I’m actually looking for a partner for the next song, if you’re willing?”
I narrow my eyes amusedly, as the second friend runs a hand over the bottom half of his face, restraining a laugh as he looks between us both—while the third one merely stands and peers at us intently, waiting for my answer. My eyes pass over them individually, until they land on the one standing closest to me, waiting patiently to see if I’ll agree. Not exactly polite to interject on people’s conversations like this, but… Well, I know that look.
It’s a dare.
I could recognize it from a mile away—because we used to do it too. In fact, we made a sport out of it—and I’ll be damned to rain on someone else’s parade.
I cock my head to the side with a broad, sultry smile, and lean forward. “I don’t know—think you can handle it?” I ask in a honeyed tone, widening my eyes, as his friends smile aptly with surprise and amusement.
The young man chuckles nervously. “Well,” he shrugs, holding a hand out. “Only one way to find out?”
I look down at his hand, and take it. “Why not?”
“I can think of a reason,” Loki whispers harshly as he leans toward me.
Ignoring Loki’s protest, I let him guide me over to the center of the courtyard. Probably shouldn’t—probably not the best idea… But what’s life without a little fun?
At the center of the courtyard, I look up at my green-eyed partner as I step in place before now. Now my heart’s beginning to race—while the quick, folk-like music starts again. In a quick reflex, he throws a hand to my waist, and I reach up and grab his other hand with my own.
He prefers to lead—that much is obvious to me immediately, and I let him spin and pull me around with quick, skilled reflexes to the sound of the music. It takes him a moment or two to give me room and way to start using his body as a leverage to throw myself around.
The music slowly starts to pick up—and in my quick glances around the courtyard, a see the multitude of people turning and clapping enthusiastically to the beat as well. Two other couples that were dancing around us have slowly moved to the edges and begun clapping for us as well—and with a quick step and turn, my partner pulls me close, and we make brisk spins in place, lapping around the courtyard.
For a moment, I’m struck abliss with the lightness of every movement, and every brush of air against my skin. My body is dancing, and my heart is dancing with it—a bright reminder of why I loved this so damn much. A brand of magic all on its own.
The band that was keeping my hair tied flies off with a sharp spin, and my long, curly hair bounces and flies around my torso as I let the freedom sweep me away into a state of forgetfulness and stupor—just like it always has.
The musicians playing horned instruments let out three loud explosions, and the song ends abruptly with a high note—with me and my partner turning and spinning outward with one last twist, linked only by our hands in our final pose.
Claps and cheers break out from the crowd, and the lightness in my chest explodes with laughter. I look over and see that even Loki seems to have let go of his disapproval temporarily, and is grinning warmly at me where I left him.
I turn back to my partner once more, as he takes my hand and smiles. “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had,” he says.
“Well thank you,” I cock my head to the side. “You’re not too bad, yourself.”
He laughs, and my cheeks flush as I let him pull me forward, and plant a small kiss on my cheek. We turn and walk in roughly the same direction, as everyone in the crowd turns and continues on conversing—save for our company.
“What was your name again?” he asks, and I turn my head up to him—seeing other couples pairing up to dance for the next song in the corner of my eye.
“Oh, my name is—” I pause. “Lara.”
“Lara,” he repeats with a friendly grin, and reaches out to shake my hand. “My name is Clevance.”
I take it. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” I say sweetly with a parting tone, and bob my head once before inching away from him. I look up at Loki’s slightly dour expression, and am glad to see that he took the hint, and is moving along the courtyard in the same direction.
“So much for not drawing attention to ourselves…” he mutters as he approaches.
I grin contentedly. “Well in thirty years, I might forget everything else—but I’m definitely going to remember that,” I glance over at the other end of the courtyard, where the path continues onward. “Now let’s go, before they try to—”
I stop mid-sentence, swaying at a sudden jolt in the earth. I look up at Loki, who has both hands up at his sides, steadying himself with widened eyes.
“What was that?” he utters, and meets my gaze for a moment before a sudden boom in the distance draws both our attention.
We turn sharply, in time to see several small clouds of smoke rising up from the distance, on the other side of the throne tree. My hands shoot up to my ears to cover the sound of several more blasts, and Loki steps closer to me as the crowd starts darting around in opposite directions all around us.
My eyes jump from one terrified face to the other as they pass by us, until I see a sizable notch between two of the stands—large enough to hide in while we figure out what’s gone.
“Loki!” I grab his arm. His head snaps in my direction, and I beckon him to follow as I release his sleeve and run toward it.
With the speed I’m darting at across the courtyard, I practically crash into the wooden pole at the front part of the stand, snapping back immediately to avoid a troop of soldiers sprinting past me on the path. I look up into the sky, seeing that the usually flurry of spaceships has drawn away—with other ships flying in from the direction of the black sand fields.
These ships are different though—they’re smaller, uniform, and there’s a hell of a lot more of them. If that wasn’t enough to seem menacing, I now realize where the explosions were coming from—them. And their guns.
I turn and face Loki as he slides to a stop in front of me and straightens up. With a sharp exhale and wave of his hand, our appearances return to normal with a flash of light—along with the suits we had when we first came here. I’m back in my dark leather suit, and Loki’s armor has returned as well. With my backside against the pole, I turn and look up in the direction of the fleet.
With mere inches between us, Loki places a hand on the pole above my head, and leans over the edge. His breath is barely reaching the side of my face, and both our gazes are drawn upward by the fleet of ships sprawling quickly throughout the sky.
“Shit,” I mutter, looking back at Loki. “I wonder if Olen’s looking for me right now…”
“I doubt that,” he says in a low, quiet voice, peering tensely at the sky. “He’s got bigger problems.”
My hair sifts against the pole as I flip my head back against it. “Discord, Loki,” I mumble breathlessly, and face him again. “I’m the creature. He wanted my help—so he must’ve thought that I could do something, right?”
He furrows a brow, looking down at me. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I don’t know—”
Loki looks toward a flash of light that suddenly glimmers in the corner of his eye, and sharp agitation explodes across his face as he grabs my arm abruptly. I hardly get the chance to gasp before he yanks me to the side and pivots—shielding me from the beam of light hitting the ground behind us, and bursting with a small explosion. I shut my eyes tightly as heat and debris blows past us, barely scraping against the edges of my body left uncovered by Loki’s. His head inches up at the settling air, and I open my eyes slowly as his grip loosens around me.
A familiar darkness fills my vision.
I lift my eyes slowly up toward Loki’s face—seeing the thin, silvery strings of light shaping his form up close. I inhale sharply as I stare at them, watching as they shimmer and pull with the slightest movement. I watch him motionlessly for a moment, until it catches his attention, and his form peers down at me.
“What?” the strings move as his voice pours out, and I feel his breath against me as he speaks.
My lips part slowly with amazement as I peer closely at him. I reach up slowly with my right hand, and brush three fingers around the strings that form his angular jaw, still feeling the roughness of his skin against mine. The strings shudder at my touch, and his breathing pauses as my fingers trail over the edge. I look up over his shoulder—at the collection of lights flying around in the sky.
“Lara?” he says softly. “What are you doing?”
My eyes slowly lower to the ground, as I step back from Loki’s figure—feeling slightly dazed. With careful steps, I navigate over pieces of the rubble glowing dim and hot with energy, and watch as it throbs with my approach.
I look down at my right hand—at the shard glowing brightly from beneath my skin. The light waxes and wanes as I get closer and further from other glowing strings and objects, until I finally step out into the clearing of the pathway, centered on top of the mound of dirt created by the explosion.
Multitudes of strings web throughout the metropolis, and follow them slowly as I turn toward the throne tree, where my eyes land on a massive structure far beyond it—a radiant pillar of strings extending down from the sky, and disappearing over the distant horizon.
The sound of beaming weapons and distant screams draws my attention back, and an invisible wind loosens the strands of hair over my face as I look up at the assailing spaceships. Bursts of hot, radiating energy explode from each vessel, and shoots down toward the ground as glowing figures bolt past me on either side.
My eyes drop toward the sound of a screaming woman—and there, down the path, I see her form moving toward me. An arm appears on my shoulder, followed by Loki’s voice calling out to me. My hand throbs as I watch the strings glow brightly in her chest for a moment, dying down as three hot flashes burst through her body from behind—from the hand of the figure she’d been running from.
Streams of heat course through my arm, and I pull away from Loki sharply, and a pile of glowing rubble suddenly flies away from us with the sudden movement. The figure turns in our direction, startled by the unexpected sound, and raises an arm toward us.
With a quick impulse, my hand flies up, and pressure massages the length of my arm as all the strings around it bend according with my movement. My fingers curl inward, grasping an invisible force, and the strings twist responsively around the figure’s body, until it cries out with a sudden snap, and drops to the ground. All my energy abruptly drains from every limb, and I sway slightly.
Two hands grab my shoulders to steady me. “Lara,” I hear Loki’s voice, feel his body against my backside as I fall into it in a heavy daze. “We have to go,” he mutters sharply, and I turn over against him to the right, taking his arm in my hand to help myself stay upright.
My gaze drifts to the assailing figure lying on the ground, and I watch intently the web of light leaves him slowly. My eyes follow the strings as they rise up slowly into the sky, where bursts of light and flying vessels continue darting about in my vision—with pressure tugging at my hand with every movement. I push back against Loki’s figure as I steady myself on my feet, and look down at my hand—at the glowing halo of light surrounding it.
And… I feel it. The warmth, the light, the movement… I think I finally understand.
The energy, the light—it’s our life. That’s why it’s a web, because it’s all connected. And these flickers of pressure is our movement through space, the transfer of energy. My eyes rise slowly to the sky as an idea appears in my mind—a long shot, I’d say, but if I’m right…
“If I’m right…” I hear myself mumble.
“Right about what? Lara—” Loki scowls, and doesn’t wait for me to respond before tightening his grip and turning me sharply. Somewhere in the rotation, everything in my vision fades back to normal. Including Loki’s face, as he leans toward me with a harrowed expression. “We can talk about this later—right now we have to go.”
“Loki,” I breathe out, as I lift a hand up to the notch between his shoulders and neck.
Loki shakes his head briskly, brows crinkled with confusion. “What?”
My hands slides off his shoulder as I quickly step around him. With a heaving chest, I narrow my eyes intently, focusing on the fleet above us. Slowly but surely, webs of light become discernible against the towering branches. Some rising, falling, twisting and meeting inside the aircrafts. Exactly where I need them. And every single pilot is what I’m after—a collection of life and energy, coming together in space.
I raise my right hand slowly with my left one just behind it. My fingers curl slightly as I focus on the invisible pressure, with it pulling and tugging more and more aggressively at my hand, as my focus grows more keen. With one sharp exhale, I tense every muscle in my body, and bear down on the pressure with a tight grasp, until it stops moving.
With a series of crashing sounds and motors whirring, every pilot in the sky is frozen—frozen and likely dead, from forcible impact with the interior of the moving vessels.
Sweat runs down the side of my face as heat builds against my skin. The aircrafts tremble as I step back, and with a sharp exhale, I tighten my right hand into a ball, and pull with every ounce of strength that I have left. I cry out agonizingly as I pivot in the other direction, pulling the weight of the entire fleet, and collapse onto one knee—gasping sharply as relief floods into every muscle that relaxes.
The fleet rains down from the skies with heavy crashes, though there’s barely any energy left in my body to react to them—not even a flinch. Until finally, after several moments, the bustling discord suddenly falls into deafening silence.
[to be continued]