“You care a great deal for how he is seen, don’t you?” Loki remarked, though it was not particularly vindictive. He’d be a liar if he said he wouldn’t be prepared to defend his sibling, regardless of everything else. As she mentioned venturing to the very place that he had ran to, the place that he had then abandoned, he hesitated. “I have. But it’s not as simple as that, they wouldn’t just let the three of us in. I don’t even know if…if she is still in power there.” He gave a sigh. “But we can try. Even if we get close, it may be able to help. Though it’s not as easy to find as people think- I met Boda because I was lost in the woods.”
Sif huffed out a breath, but her expression was soft as she tended to the cut on her husband’s temple, dabbing away the dried blood that still clung to his skin. “I care for him,” she insisted. “And he cares for how the people perceive him--- he wouldn’t want to be viewed as weak.” That was the truth of it, and Sif was not afraid to say so. “And he cares for you. So by extension...” She would not see Loki harmed, because Thor would not wish it.
Weary, Sif allowed her flawless composure to shatter just for a moment, her shoulders slumping tiredly and her head falling into her hands. Never did she willingly show weakness. Never did she let anyone bear witness to her own struggles. “There’s a storm brewing,” she murmured, and indeed the winds were picking up, rain starting to lash down on them from above, the ground underneath them becoming muddy.
On hands and knees, she moved to try and haul Thor towards the nearest tent and shelter him from the coming storm. “I need your help, Loki,” she said, stumbling, dirt splattered across her clothes and skin the more she struggled.
