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laufeyson-rising:

“How prestigious,” she responded. “What area is that?” She asked it with the air of innocent curiosity she had been bringing to this entire conversation. However, she was really just curious if Sif would tell and how much she would tell her. How trusting was the warrior of Asgard? Not trusting enough not to start questioning Odin when Loki wore his face. But trusting enough to tell a pretty woman all about who she was? Perhaps.

“Not a problem. I don’t think you led me into the woods, did you? I found that my curiosity did. Have you heard that there is meant to be some kind of terrifying creature in these trees?” She hadn’t seen anything like that, though she had felt the ever-shifting magics that didn’t feel quite native to the area. Of course that would give Loki away. “Have you seen it? I have never seen anything like has been described. Perhaps I am far too much of a thrill-seeker for my own good.” She gave the brightest of smiles to Sif. Because wasn’t that the understatement of the millennium?

The mischief in Sif’s gaze was an expression Loki knew well, and how would she feel to know that Loki was in on the joke. “Oh?” She asked. “Which was your favorite?”

How fun this was. A shame that it would eventually have to end, as she had no intention of exposing herself to Sif. It would topple everything… even if Loki was dreadfully ill-suited to being King at this point.

"Ah," Sif hummed lightly, gesturing with their free hand out towards the expanse before them. "I am from a long way away, my lady. Somewhere quite far from here and unlikely to be anywhere you would have heard of." It was perhaps a coward's way out, the easiest way to explain Asgard without having to go into details of her exile, but when delivered with a charming smile, hopefully it would do the job.

"I find that curiosity is so often a wicked thing to follow - and yet who can resist?" Sif said, low and a little flirtatious. Yet, they shook off the urge to flirt too much more and reverted back to the soft, warm charm of before, shaking her head a little. "I have heard such tales of terrible creatures. I have not seen it but I hope to patrol these woods regularly in hopes of keeping everyone quite safe from such things," they said, grave and sincere before letting their countenance soften. "There is no shame in thrill-seeking, my lady, so long as you keep yourself safe above all."

"I do so enjoy the courtly tales of romance - although there was always a sense of melodrama to them all," Sif smiled teasingly. "Tristan and Iseult had ever such the tale."

#c: loki #p: the call of magic

vanhelsing-rising:

Oh what a lovely smile, and couple it with the apple scent and Rachel was seriously resisting the urge to give into the side of her that was a predator. The side of her that wanted to bite. She wondered if this woman was aware of how she smelled. Likely not. Most people didn’t know what their blood smelled like to a vampire, and they didn’t take too kindly to being told. Understandable, really. “Perhaps you’re lucky, then,” she teased with a wry smile of her own.

Her lips parted, though, when she stepped closer. She could feel the telltale click of her fangs as they slid out of their place to elongate and Rachel was quick to catch herself, closing her lips as she felt the very tips of the canines pressing against the lower one. Blast. Taking a step back, Rachel was hoping that the dark of the night and the distraction of the task would mask that she was no longer breathing. For the best, really.

“You are a true rebel, then?” She asked, watching her open the door with finesse. Her gaze was perhaps a bit too intense for a regular woman, but she was trying her best to mask herself. After all, this woman was doing her a kindness, wasn’t she?

"Perhaps I am," Sif said, voice coloured with amusement as they bowed before the door, carefully working the tip of the blade into the lock. It was perhaps similar to the more primitive locks on Asgard and it took them only a moment to catch the tumblers within in order to click the offending mechanism open. Easily, she nudged the door open with her hip and gestured for the other woman to walk in before her.

"Ladies first, after all," she hummed, sliding her dagger into its sheath and her hands into her pockets as she followed Rachel into the shop. "Ah, well, perhaps not entirely a rebel but certainly something of a rogue, if you will," Sif said in easy amusement, their stride long and loping as they prowled around the shop, examining the host of things within.

"What about yourself? You seemed not to even blink as a strange individual made light of trespassing on your behalf," she teased, flashing a white-toothed smile and a casual lean against the meat counter behind her.

#c: rachel #p: hemophagic

oliverquino:

“Probably not, probably not,” Ollie agreed good-naturedly when Sif pointed out that he wouldn’t have managed to dent her weapon even with his best college try. “But everything’s worth a shot, right? You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.” He frowned a little, rolling his eyes up in thought. “Right at this moment I can’t recall if that’s about hockey or drinking, but you get the general gist.”

She looked out again at the view once Ollie mentioned it directly, and he wondered if she had, actually, been even thinking about it. Sometimes the altitude and fresh air were more for cobweb-clearing than admiring the landscape, and she looked like a woman with Things on Her Mind.

Particularly when she mentioned that the view reminded her of home, in a tone that even on first meeting, Ollie couldn’t miss the melancholy of. But she didn’t seem to want to dwell, instead offering her name – which included a tip as to why being up high reminded her of home.

“Of Asgard,” Ollie repeated, not bothering to hide his interest. “I think that makes me the one more likely to be charmed. Although! I shouldn’t sell myself short. I’m the beekeeper around these parts. Which as far as I know, makes me something of a charmer by association, if I’m up on my bee lore.” Ollie snapped and pointed at Sif. “Hey that’s good for you, isn’t it? We’ll be able to make our own mead soon!”

There was something about this man, his jovial nature and charming witticisms that made her think fondly of Thor. "I cannot say I am familiar with hockey - so I will be inclined to say it regards drinking," Sif said just as brightly, their lips curling into an amused, light smirk. "I respect that you would have taken the shot, however."

She liked this man, she decided, and with a soft laugh, they turned their back upon the view and leant gently against the wall, careful not to damage any of the stone with their weight. It was not a day for dwelling upon mindless nostalgia, there should be no need for such a thing when there were new friends.

"Not at all, my friend. We may be equally as charmed if that suits," she said, voice brightening up in a spring-bell tone as she focused on him and not on the wealth of summer-drunk memories. "And certainly, being a beekeeper makes you quite the charmer - an essential role should you ask me."

Sif grinned, mischievous and rogueish as she took in his last offer. "Now, my friend, I can certainly enjoy the promise of mead. Have you ever made true, strong mead? I should be greatly pleased to teach you if not," they offered, raising an eyebrow in gentle challenge.

#c: ollie #p: ollie1

wondxrwoman:

Diana was pleased her offer was readily accepted, answering Sif’s smile with a sparkling one of her own. “Luckily our kitchens are well-stocked. I’m sure you can imagine how much food it takes to feed a castle-full of people like us,” Diana replied, clasping her arms leisurely behind her back as they walked. The metal of her bracers was sang against her palms, warm from her body and the sword-blows they’d blocked.

“Thank you for that. It isn’t many people who can spar with me quite the way I’d like,” Diana said, not without a hint of regret. “Is it terribly strange, here?” she asked, curious. “It was to me, man’s world, when I first arrived. Nothing like I had expected.”

Sif laughed, loud and hearty, and nodded as she fell into step with Diana. "I certainly can imagine such a thing. If it is anything like the stock we had to have in the galleys in Asgard then it would be quite an endeavour to keep it so well stocked," they nodded, tightening up the leather straps of their bracers as they walked. The leather was softened and well moulded to her forearms and she stretched a little, revelling in the pull of her muscles.

Humming a little, Sif inclined her dark head in acquiescence. "It's true, I find it hard to know exactly what the Midgardians can handle in a bout of sparring so I fear I go ever so lightly on them. Their world is...a strange one, yes. So many customs and rules that seem so unfamiliar to me, even now."

#c: diana #p: diana1

laufeyson-rising:

She was adorable, frankly, with her lifted chin and her hand on her blade. A proper warrior. Funny to hear her compare herself to a knight. Like those awful Bretons. “Where did you get it?” She asked, well aware of the fact that it had been a gift from Odin. Odin had had gifts for everyone, didn’t he? Except for Loki herself. How noble was Lady Sif with her special weapon? What would she say if she saw Gungnir in Loki’s hand?

“I do so enjoy traveling,” she said. “I am new to the area myself.” In a way. They had been all around Midgard before, but not like this. Not in this suspended space in time. So to this, she was new. New in mind and body, even. For Loki did not get opportunity to wear the soft curves he sometimes craved. A step closer to Frigga, an experience she wished to understand on her own. Her soul reached for the warmth and maternity and sly femininity at times. Before this, she had tried while remaining trapped in the view of what a prince was meant to look like. What would the world think of this Loki? The one that was free of Asgard… or more fettered to it than ever.

“I’m sure my mother would thank you, Lady Sif. Just as the Knight you mentioned, yes? I remember Arthur.” She shook her head. A truth that she gave intentionally only to add afterward, “I read all the myths when I was a child.”

It was as if she simply couldn’t resist playing a little.

Sif smiled fondly, even as her verdant gaze moved between the trees with the protective air of the finest guard hound Asgard could ever hope to employ. "It was a gift from the leader of my area," they spoke carefully, brow furrowing fractionally in an attempt to keep their other-worldly nature under wraps, even if this woman did not quite seem like the regular Midgardian they had come to be familiar with during her time in Sokovia.

Ah. So perhaps that would explain the unsettling feeling they received from this woman. She was not a local and therefore not beholden to the same customs and behaviours as those she had gotten used to. Sif relaxed fractionally at this and nodded. "Well then, welcome my lady. I apologise that your first encounter with this area should be getting lost in such a place," she said as gallantly as she could manage. Sif always had been prone to bouts of weakness when it came to beautiful women - it had oft been a source of commonality between herself and Thor. They had also oft competed as to who could court ladies more effectively, a competition Sif was perhaps a little too proud to count herself the winner of.

Sif found they disliked the distinct emphasis on her title but it was, after all, her name. How complex a reaction could be when it came to such terms. The mention of Arthur brightened Sif's entire countenance however and they could not help but grin a little, warm but roguish as they nodded. "Ah yes, I know Arthur well. A very interesting man - so very many conflicting tales," she nodded sagely, although there was mischief shining in her eyes.

"And so many more about those he surrounded himself with."

#c: loki #p: the call of magic

vanhelsing-rising:

Something she needed. What a cosmic joke, as she couldn’t simply explain herself, could she? And what excuse could she provide for a large container of assorted bloods? She bit her lip. “There was, yes,” she said, reaching for a lie as quickly as she could. Something she could see as believable. “I need… blood,” she answered. That bit she’d have to be truthful about, but the why… “It’s for a family recipe, I’m afraid. Terribly morbid.” What foods took animal blood?

“It’s called Czernina. Have you ever had it?” Duck blood soup. A weak excuse. And it wouldn’t explain why she was so utterly crestfallen that she might consider a B&E. Hopefully it was enough? Because if it wasn’t, Rachel was going to have to swiftly figure out a way to get away from this woman and her fragrant scent. Her fangs were threatening to extend in her moth just being around her.

Sif hummed thoughtfully. They could not say they had ever heard of such a thing as czernina, whatever strange Midgardian concoction it may be, but if the other woman needed it so then who was she to dictate otherwise? And delicacies with blood cannot be so unusual in martial cultures -- it was not as though Sif could judge anyone for such a proclivity. So, with a roguish grin and easy charm, Sif nodded her dark head. "I can't say I have had the pleasure."

"However. I have had the pleasure of going to several places that I strictly should not when others have broken their vows to me," they confessed, easing closer to the woman. "This is the place you need to enter, yes?" Sif asked, bowing to pull one of her daggers from its holster. A weapon with far more finesse when it came to forcibly unlocking a door.

#c: rachel #p: hemophagic

laufeyson-rising:

“Oh yes?” Loki asked, as if she didn’t know. As if she weren’t entirely aware of the training Sif had received throughout her life. But the game was fun and she had come to recognize that there was a certain kind of look in Sif’s eyes which would surely disgust her were she to realize just to whom she was talking. Still, Loki entertained it as if she were a wide-eyed Midgardian. “What manner of hunting do you do with such a weapon? I might have thought such practices were outdated here.”

“Group?” Looking around, Loki sought out with a mental brush any companions Sif might have hiding in the woods at her side. She found none and cocked her head it bit, brow quirking. “Are you from out of town?” Who was harboring her? Surely she was not living like a mere Midgardian.

My lady… there was actually something quite comforting about being addressed by the gender appropriate honorific specific to this body. To this feeling. On Asgard, Loki was always ‘sir’ ‘ser’ ‘Prince’ ‘His royal highness’. Whether she felt differently or not. Sif might be doing it out of ignorance, but Loki could not help the pretty smile that lit up her features if only because Angrboda had been the only one to change with the tides of Loki’s sense of self as easy as breathing. And she was gone now. The smile dimmed at the edges at the thought, but Loki was quick to recover.

“I’m called Loren,” she answered. “And yours?”

"Indeed," Sif nodded seriously as they began to walk through the tree copses. They made the effort to remain alert, gaze flickering around them and hand resting lightly upon the hilt of Stjarnahyrr, lest anything catch her by surprise and endanger their new companion. "I have hunted a great many things over the years although I do enjoy using other weapons when necessary. This blade by my side is simply my signature - much like a knight may have a trusty steed, so too will a warrior have a trusted weapon."

The question made her smile, an amused twist of her lips, even as they nodded their dark head, the braids in the length bouncing as she did. "You could certainly say such a thing, my lady. I have travelled a great distance to be here -- to help out where I may." She explained carefully.

Sif had been warned that the congregation of superheroes at the Mousehole was not common knowledge for most of the citizens of Sokovia and so, they did not intend on giving away the location this easily unless her new friend proved to be a new resident. There were so many coming back and forth that Sif knew they would not keep track quite as easily as they would expect. Still, their new friend now had a name to utilise and Sif nodded, smiling warmly. "Loren. A wonderful name, my lady," she said, voice honeyed.

"I am Lady Sif, although you may call me Sif."

#c: loki #p: the call of magic

vanhelsing-rising:

Looking at the other woman, who was a rarity in that she was taller than Rachel herself, she couldn’t help how pale she looked at the moment or how brightly her eyes shone. There had once been a time when she had looked normal. Natural. But that had been so very long ago. Now the creature she was had taken over her body. Most people dismissed her appearance as just something strange but it wasn’t so unnatural, perhaps, that they couldn’t explain it away. She wondered what this woman’s impression would be as she stepped into the light.

Stepping closer did reveal her to the woman in question, but it backfired in that Rachel’s mouth watered with the scent of sweet apples, fresh rain, and the distinctly coppery tang that accompanied all blood. But the apples were new. For a moment, Rachel remembered the orchards at her father’s small summer estate and how she had gorged herself on them as a girl, the juice running down her chin.

Her teeth ached as she got herself together. She wasn’t a newborn fledgling any longer, and she had certainly worked hard enough on her self-control that she wasn’t about to attack this poor woman right here in the street. Though the question did nearly make her whine. “I did, yes,” she answered. “And I called specifically. I asked them to wait and promised to pay and now–” She gestured uselessly to the locked door.

As the other stepped out into the light, Sif canted her head gently and hummed, taken in by the woman's slightly out of step appearance. She did not seem like a Midgardian -- there was something about the way she looked, pale and bright and hungry looking, that seemed to make her something different. Still, Sif found herself torn about what to do. They were not in the habit of encouraging breaking and entering, especially considering the fact that Midgardians seemed to take such a thing personally. Yet, the woman seemed in need of aid.

It was terribly rude to promise a lady a favour of some kind and then make no attempt to follow through on such a thing. Sif sighed thoughtfully and glanced at the door. "Well. That is unfortunate that they are not answering," she stepped forward as she spoke, gazing into the windows in an attempt to see if the butcher was lurking around in the shop. No such luck - because that would have been far too simple.

"Was there something in particular that you needed from him? I would not wish to see you walk away empty-handed if it is a necessary trip out." Sif saw no reason as to why the other would have travelled to this place out of business hours if it wasn't entirely needed.

#c: rachel #p: hemophagic

wondxrwoman:

“I am honored,” Diana replied, her smile widening at the compliment. It was one of the kindest—and most genuine—she had received in some time. “I had worried you would be bored when you arrived here, I have to be honest,” she added as she walked back over, adjusting the settle of her gauntlets, “but at least now you know you always have a willing sparring partner.” She beamed up at the other. Words seemed to spill easier between them now that they had crossed swords, a certain comfort blooming that only a successful spar could establish.

“Would you like to sit a while? Or maybe share a meal. If you have nowhere to be. I’d like to hear more about the circumstances that landed you here, if you would not be adverse to sharing.”

The offer brought an easy, charming smile to Sif's face, even as they settled their cloak back over their shoulders. It had been shed early in the spar in favour of ease of movement and a cooler temperature - something she rarely had to do when fighting Midgardians. It had been a nice challenge and she nodded. "And a very capable sparring partner," she added with a smile. They allowed Diana to fall into step by their side and considered the offer carefully. Sif did not wish to dwell on her exile from Asgard but there was always comfort in sharing with those you would cross swords with.

"I would be amenable to a meal - it has been a while since I've had such a decent sparring session and it does oft work up an appetite," Sif nodded.

#c: diana #p: diana1

vanhelsing-rising:

Hemophagic || Open Starter

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the blonde swore as she approached the very clearly closed butcher shop. “I called ahead!” Slapping her hands against the glass, she sighed before muttering under her breath. “Bastard.” She had near perfect Sokovian, dammit. There couldn’t have been a miscommunication. And she was hungry.

Running a hand through ice-blonde hair, Rachel Van Helsing sighed. She might have a ration in her emergency supply kit, but would it really be so wrong of her to break the lock on the door? The butcher had promised he would wait. She bit her lip, considering. Maybe there was a back door? That’d at least be more courteous if she must break in. Not that there was any way to really make a break-in courteous. What would Mother say if she were here?

Her decision was yet unmade as she looked up to see someone approaching. Setting her carpetbag delicately on the ground, she straightened to her full height. “I don’t suppose you’re the butcher?” she asked, too hopeful.

Sif appreciated the Mousehole, they really did, but it remained a simple fact that she was used to having an entire realm at her disposal and so, it was only natural that they grew restless with no war to fight on the front lines. So she had taken to long walks down into Matchak, an easy sort of lope that allowed them to work out some of the restless energy.

And they saw a great many interesting things on their journeys - people living their lives, attempting to rebuild, quiet moments shared between friends or lovers and even, like today, something that set their curiosity ablaze. Normally petty crime would not be within Sif's repertoire of responsibilities but they had been sent here to prove they were mature and refined. With an easy turn on her heels, Sif approached the woman, intent on stopping this attempted robbery. And then a sweet voice, a too hopeful question and Sif felt her resolve crumbling.

"Ah. No, I am afraid I am not. Did you need them desperately for something important?" They asked, cocking their head like a mildly confused puppy as they came to a halt before the stranger.

#c: rachel #p: hemophagic

lieblingskobold:

“Thank you! I am much like a pirate in that way, don’t you agree?” Kurt said with a toothy grin as he followed Sif back into the castle. As much as he would love to fully embrace his swashbuckler nature, it was just way too difficult to be constantly carrying a sword around on missions, especially when Kurt preferred to wield 3 at once.

Kurt looked at the shining blade in rapt attention. t was a gorgeous blade, no doubt about that, and Sif’s explanation of how it came to be made it seem even more special. He knew so little about Asgard, or anything of that kind of extra-terrestrial beings. Of course they had a few non-Midgardians on the X-team, but Kurt could barely keep track of himself at times. “Mein Gott, it is amazing.”

“Perfect! I do not have much experience in trap-making.” Kurt said, opening the door to the armory, and peering inside. He’s never been in this room before, but it was pretty well-stocked. He moved to a wall of swords, testing out a few in his hands. “How are you liking Earth? Have you been here a while?”

Sif canted their head a little, trying to match up the idea of a pirate - from what she knew of Midgardian history - to the man before her. Eventually they acquiesced and nodded once. "A pirate, yes. I can certainly see some comparison there, my friend." It was certainly an interesting comparison all the same.

They smiled proudly at the soft whisper of admiration to their sword and nodded as they resheathed it. "She is a work of art - one of the finest blades known in the Nine Realms." As they entered the armoury, Sif gently peeled away from his side, moving to examine the weapons within. It was stocked well enough from what they could see and she flashed him a quick smile. "Traps can be all manner of things."

At his question, she hummed thoughtfully, trying to consider her answer before she spoke rashly. "Midgard has always been...a strange place to me. I've been here a little longer than I expected so I am starting to grow used to it," they said carefully. "Certainly something to adjust to - although I'm not entirely convinced that's a bad thing any more."

#c: kurt #p: kurt1

oliverquino:

“If you’d startled me bad enough, that fancy blade would be pinned through the hilt.” Ollie grinned, though, intending the comment as more of a cocky hello than an actual challenge. He had a healthy respect for the residents of the Mousehole, even before he’d decided to join them, and looking at this woman – the way she held herself, with that same sort of warrior stance he’d seen in the likes of the Amazons – Ollie had an idea that trying to get into some sort of pissing contest with her would be pretty much futile.

(And hey, Ollie Queen had never been one to feel threatened when meeting warrior women. Quite the opposite, if history counted for anything.)

“You came up here for the view, then?” Ollie sidled up to her at the edge of the roof, looking out over the vast fields and forest. “Or the fresh air? For me, personally, the novelty of living in a castle gets a little drowned out by the smell of hundreds of years of damp in the stones.” He crinkled his nose. “I’m Ollie, by the way.”

Sif laughed, loud and ringing in sudden amusement at this man before her - acting as though her blade was a child's foil that he could pierce so. She could tell he hardly meant it from malice but it had amused her all the same. "I do not quite think such an endeavour would be successful on your part, my friend," Sif grinned, sheathing Stjarnahyrr by their hip without a second thought. He was not a threat to them, that much was certainly clear. Therefore, they felt no qualms in turning to move closer to him with a few long, steady strides.

At his question, Sif hummed a little, turning her gaze back out towards the rolling, expansive view. It certainly was beautiful, even if it still felt foreign to her.

"You could say such a thing, yes. Being in a high, open space - it reminds me of home," they mused, a sort of nostalgia-drenched sadness creeping up in their chest. She pushed it aside firmly and instead, turned her gaze upon the man beside her. "Ollie. I am charmed, I'm sure. I am Lady Sif," they hesitated over the realm for a moment before glancing away and adding, "of Asgard."

#c: ollie #p: ollie1

@oliverquino

Sif had never been much of an archer. No, their prowess in battle was hard won with a blade, not a quiver, and yet, they found themselves inexplicably drawn to the archery range on the rooftop of the Mousehole. Perhaps it was more to do with the wide expanse of space, the easy vantage point, the closeness to the heavens.

She was perched at the very edge, staring out into the expanse when a noise from behind her had on high alert. With a sharp turn, she was facing the intruder with Stjarnahyrr drawn. They sized up the other for a moment and hummed a little, noting that they had seen him around here before.

"I apologise - I was in quite the daydream. I hope I didn't startle you," she said apologetically, although her eyes flickered over the bow he carried.

#c: ollie #p: ollie1

@xscottlang

Their time at the Mousehole, while pleasant and vaguely familiar thanks to its similar - albeit distinctly less golden - structure to Asgardian palaces, was starting to wear at Sif. They could feel a familiar restlessness growing within them and so, she had elected to take a trip down to Matchak. It had been a nice, easy hike for them, especially in the pleasantly warm climate of the spring.

By the time she made it to the market in Matchak, she was in high spirits, eyes bright and ponytail swishing as she eased her way through the crowds. A particular face caught their attention and Sif sidled up to the man, an easy smile on their face as they considered the little trinkets before the pair of them.

"They are very charming, I must admit."

#c: scott #p: scott1 #srisingstarter

wondxrwoman:

A smirk curved Diana’s lips at the agreement, sharp-edged with excitement, anticipation—and she charged.

—

There was nothing quite like the sense of newfound camaraderie that formed after a good spar. Diana felt pleasantly worn for the first time in weeks, a part of her mind that had been roiling in stress and unspent energy finally quiet—for the moment. “A fine showing, Lady Sif,” Diana said with a playful little smile over her shoulder as she replaced the training sword they had nearly shattered a dozen times over.

“I dare say you would make a fine amazon.”

There was a pleasant warmth spreading through Sif's muscles, the reassuring ache of a workout done well. She rolled her shoulders slightly and smiled at Diana, open and relaxed now that some of the fire had been spent through their energised spar. Stjarnahyrr was swiped clean on their cloak and slid back into the sheath at their hip. "Consider me quite impressed, Diana. All the tales I've heard about you are true indeed," Sif said, revelling in the slight lift in their heart rate.

"And I dare say you would have been a fearsome valkyrie."

#c: diana #p: diana1

laufeyson-rising:

“Are you some sort of hunter, then?” It was amusing, she thought, to pretend to be so witless. This was Lady Sif of Asgard, born as a goddess of the earth, one of the few women who shirked the roles of her sex in order to become a warrior on the level of Thor. She had also turned her brother’s face from Loki’s, and Loki had taken her hair as payment for the loss of his closeness with Thor. They were not friends, nor were they even friendly, really. So it was all the more amusing to watch Sif’s gaze change. Loki did preen a little, as it meant her form was as beautiful and pleasing as she focused on making it. And it meant that she was perfectly capable of bending the very air around her to hide her familiarity to someone who had known her her whole life. Who had met the children she had brought home to Valaskjalf to the jeers and horror of the people who had raised him.

“I’m not from the area,” she said with a hum. “Is it customary to receive a bladed weapon here? Am I terribly at odds with the locale?” She could acquire a sword, but she was certainly aware that regular Midgardians didn’t carry around weapons of Asgard.

Her offer was a good one. It would give Loki insight on the area in a perspective she’d understand. Though she would have to be aware of the discrepancies. Sif did have so much of Thor in her by mannerism. “I would never say no to a friend. Surely I’d never find my way out again.” Wrong. But she didn’t need to know it.

"A hunter? Yes, I suppose I am a hunter of some fashion," Sif nodded, suddenly more sure of their own title. A hunter seemed like a more palatable title to Midgardians than the goddess of war and earth. To be a hunter or a ranger of some kind would fit just as well. And yet it had been given so freely by this maiden who looked up at her with an oddly familiar smile, docile mischief sparking in their eyes. How unique indeed. This was certainly a maiden that Lady Sif desired to know more about. With an easy, charming smile, Sif moved to their side, her hand drifting to the hilt of Stjarnahyrr at the mention of bladed weapons. Perhaps an odd turn of phrase for a Midgardian - especially after the clawed warrior had berated Sif herself for such vernacular.

Still, the moment of thought passed Sif by in favour of showing off a little. "Not typically, no. I am not exactly the typical inhabitant of such a place - I have only come to lend my sword and my hunting prowess to this group," they said, drawing themselves up to their full height.

"Come then, friend, we may start our endeavour out from these woods," Sif said brightly, gesturing to the way she had came and indicating for the maiden to step forth. "Is there something that I can call you, my lady?"

#c: loki #p: the call of magic

wondxrwoman:

“Very impressive,” Diana said, picking a training sword and weighing it in her hands. “You will have to excuse my blade of choice—it’s no match, but it will have to do. We’ll have to spar with my own blade one of these days. You could appreciate it in a way most here would not,” Diana noted, spinning the training sword around in her hand easily. “Forged by Hephaestus himself, formerly wielded by my patron goddess, Athena.”

“I am ready whenever you are, Lady Sif. A quick round to warm up?”

"I have no doubt that you will still prove to be a formidable opponent, Diana of Themyscira," Sif said, an easy incline to their head as they unsheathed Stjarnahyrr with a beautifully familiar ring. There was a warming thrill of adrenaline through her blood, her senses focusing in on Diana as they prepared to do battle. "It sounds wonderful -- I would be honoured to spar with such a weapon, especially here."

"As you wish, my lady. I am more than ready for this endeavour."

#c: diana #p: diana1

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