Lavender, Chrysanthemum, Amaryllis
(What is the one thing that immediately loses your trust?)
Sif felt a chill run through her, and she huddled up under her blankets, taking in a deep breath of morning air as the false light of twilight lilted across her eyes. She cracked them open, staring blearily around the room, not remembering it being so cold the night before when she’d laid down to rest.
The shield maid sat up slowly with a yawn, blinking down at her pillow. At first she didn’t quite understand what she saw winking back at her there, almost silver in the predawn light.
Her heart dropped down into her stomach, and Sif’s hands went to the smooth surface of her scalp, completely bereft of her hair. She let out a little yelp, panicking, her hands taking hold of the locks that still wreathed where her head had sat on her pillow.
(What is one lie that later got you in trouble?)
"I love you." Her throat seemed to close in on itself. Sif stared at the opposite wall of Thor’s bedroom for a long time after he’d said the words, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched golden speckles of dust floating in the sunbeams filtering through the shades. She couldn’t breathe.
The shield maid’s hands clenched into fists in the furs, and she tried to swallow without strangling herself. Ymir’s teeth, what now?
She let the silence stretch on for too long, and Thor withdrew the weight of his arm from her, making a sound akin to a growl as he pushed himself up from the bed. She sat up straight, holding the furs to her small chest, looking over her shoulder at her friend.
"Don’t bother," he cut her off, grabbing for his trousers. Sif felt her face flush, anger bubbling up from within her.
"What, you are angry with me?" she demanded, clambering out of the bed, expression near haughty.
"I said leave it," he grunted back, pulling on his tunic roughly. Sif clenched her teeth, jaw popping.
"You don’t like my answer?" she prodded with her words, coming up to Thor, naked and caring little for the time being. He turned to her sharply, hurt evident in eyes so blue she thought perhaps he’d reached out beyond his shutters and put the sky in his sockets.
"No, if you must know!" Thor’s voice boomed around the chamber, and Sif bristled, dark hair still in loose waves around her shoulders and face.
"I have told you a hundred times what I feel about — love,” she snapped back, stalking past him and searching for her own garments on the floor. She found her tunic, wine red, wrinkled from their passion, and yanked it over her head, her leggings next in line to be tugged over her body.
"And yet here you are with me," he exclaimed in incredulity. Thor huffed again, dragging a hand through his hair. Sif had her back to him, dragging her curls over her shoulder so that she could plait her hair.
"Just because we are sleeping together does not mean I am in love with you," Sif’s voice rasped in her exasperation, and she turned an incredulous look of her own back to him. Something crossed his face that she couldn’t quite name, and Sif paused, feeling suddenly ill.
"So you were just using me," his voice caught just as hers had, the betrayal now clear in his gaze. Sif felt her stomach drop.
"What?" She turned back to him entirely, "No of course not! Why would you say that?"
"Because you slept with me, but had no intentions of going any further! You took advantage!"
"Don’t be thick," she murmured, chest heaving, "you already knew what this was! You came to me to comfort me, and now you’re demanding something of me that I cannot give you, Thor." She bit her cheek, turning her eyes to the gold scrollwork of the floor for a moment. "I love you as a friend, Thor. I just…I am not in love…”
"It’s fine," he said shortly, cutting her off again. Sif felt it sting her as though he’d given her a slap across the face. She flexed her hands at her sides.
"Thor, please don’t be mad at — "
"I said it is fine! I need some time alone. Please see yourself out."
"Leave me," the command stuck between her shoulders, straightening out her back, and Sif reached up to quickly brush stray tears from her cheeks before they could get any further, stalking out of the room at a staccato pace.
(What incident from the past still makes you beam proudly even today?)
Thor looked up at her in astonishment from the dusty ground of the practice ring, sweating and winded. The teenaged girl grinned down at him, dusting off her hands with an air of accomplishment and then turning from him to cock an inviting eyebrow at the crowd of boys who surround the newly completed match.
