Aug 31, 2014
"Apparently, I need to grow a mustache."
''Are you asking my advice in how to grow one, or hinting for my razor?''
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"Apparently, I need to grow a mustache."
''Are you asking my advice in how to grow one, or hinting for my razor?''
Fate's Fruit
The broken cry rang across the splintered edge of the Bifrost; "I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!"
And then the reply, the single reply which solidified the damage wrought on the prince's heart, those few words whispered across the dark space between the king and the prince; "No, Loki."
That taste in the prince's mouth was uncomfortably close to fear, to despair, and defeat. Defeat? No, no, no! Not defeat! Never defeat! Loki was never defeated! Never!
But Loki could not face the combined judgement of his false father and false brother. Asgard held no welcome for him. There was no place for him in Asgard now. There was no option left to him now save one.
The choice was telegraphed in the single tear which dropped from his eyes. Why he wept, he could not say. But weep he did as his grip loosened around the spear.
"Loki, no," his false brother cried as Loki clenched his teeth and let go, "Loki, no!"
Loki fell. Loki fell far into the icy blackness of empty space. He could not feel the warm presence of the World Tree around him. And he fell. He fell long and far until he no longer knew up from down or his own name. But as he fell on, deeper and deeper through the blackness which twisted and warped around him, he heard voices. But were they real? Or in his head?
"The rotten tree can bear the sweetest fruit when touched with steely kiss,"
He looked around, his green eyes straining against the darkness as he fell and floated, searching for the source of the voices and the mindless, ceaseless chanting.
"The fruit of trickery, the fruit of war,"
"What sorcery is this?" he demanded, or at least thought he demanded. But he may not have said anything at all, only continued to fall, blind and deaf and mute through the dark matter between worlds.
"The fruit will rot or bloom into a blossom fair, And spread its fragrance through the roots of the Mighty Tree, Or spread its rot and ruin till all the branches burn black with death. The child of war and trickery will have power undiscovered To rule as king of all the realms Or to be the end and fell the Mighty Tree."
Loki's eyes widened. Fell the tree? The Mighty Tree? The Yggdrasil? What possible power could destroy even the very fabric of the Nine Realms?
"Who are you to speak these words?" he cried, "Who are you to voice these verses where only I can hear?" Of that he was sure. He was not meant to hear this prophecy, but hear it he did. And he knew it would shape his ever decision for the rest of eternity.
"So speaketh the Norns. So tells Urda of the Past. So describes Verdandi of the Present. So fortells Skuld of the Future. Destiny lies in the union of war and trickery."
The Norns spoke the prophecy to him, he knew it! This prophecy, this fortelling of things to come, was meant for his ears and it was his destiny to hear it. Loki the Trickster would obey the prophecy - but how? Child of trickery - that much was clear, it meant a child from his seed! But of war? Was he to go to war? Was he to lead an army?
Child of trickery. Child of war. Child of trickery. Child of war. Child. Child. Child of trickery and war. Union. A union. A child. A child of war. A union of trickery and war. War and trickery. Trickery. Trickery. War. War. War. War. War. War. War. War. War. WAR!
His eyes snapped open.
Sif.
kuchikopis replied to your post:coffeesuperhero replied to your post:led-lite...
i hear good things about lenovos, my mom was going to look into getting me one if hp was going to give me shit about my warranty the last time i was having drama with them
Thanks Merggie!
siffed replied to your post:led-lite replied to your photoset:My laptop screen...
If you DO check out Asus, be careful with your warranty. I had an Asus and a Square Trade warranty and apparently the two do not mesh well. I now have a Lenovo.
Oooh good to know thanks Nikki!
nocturnalforays replied to your photoset:My laptop screen just disconnected from the bottom...
Ah. I see. This is what prompted your previous FUCK fuck #fuck post. Oh dear.
lol yes I am a drama queen
siffed started following you
"Lady Sif? You're back!"
It was almost dusk on Asgard. The wheat in the distant field gleamed brightly, but dimmed slowly as the light in the sky grew darker, it's previously light blue hue morphing into a darker navy, an indigo even.
The ever changing colors in the sky, and the ache in his battered bones reminded him of the fragility of existence and the luck he and the rest of his band of warriors had. This was far from the hundredth battle Thor, Sif, the Warriors 3, and he had returned from, and that in itself was a grand feat of luck and skill he was fortunate for having, but fearful of losing. But perhaps that was just another one of his fleeting feelings --- he was always melancholic after returning from another battle, no matter how great the success and how little the damage.
The green eyed god kept his vigil on the sky above the field, his eyes examining every single swirl of color in minute detail, until it was all just a mix of darkness with trillions of stars poking out of it. It even seemed as if the stars themselves gleamed brighter now than other days, jubilant upon seeing the restored peace in the nine realms it stood over. Jubilant for seeing it's warriors unscathed and content.
-----
It was well after nightfall when the young trickster returned to the palace, having already missed the tall tales Fandral and Volstagg were sure to have told in all their exaggerated splendor. He didn't mind missing the tales, or the festivities after each battle. He just always enjoyed being home, being safe, and being back around his beloved family.
The young god walked around the banquet table, grabbing a goblet of wine from a silver tray at the center. With a few smiles and merry greetings, he was able to slip off away from the feat. He always went where there was less noise, and where that was, he always somehow came to find her. He approached the goddess, sipping his wine casually as he absentmindedly tugged his furs closer to him to shield out the crisp night air.
"For the goddess of harvest, you don't seem so distraught on missing the height of its beauty and benevolence." The god said toSif, who was standing towards the edge of the balcony, examining her sword in the moonlight.
[ cuddle buddy app ]
Name: Lady Sif
Age: Never ask a Lady her age.
Gender: Female
Big/little spoon: I beg your pardon?
Favorite movie: 300
Favorite tv show: Game of Thrones
Favorite music genre: Classical
Can we talk about mundane things: Certainly, but do not blame me if I should fall asleep.
Is it okay if I fall asleep: That depends on the circumstances, surely?
Are kisses allowed: I’ll allow it.
Are pants required: No.
When are you available for cuddles: Intermittently.
My place or yours: Yours is much nicer.
Can we cuddle in bed or couch only: I have no preference.
Will you play with my hair: Are you certain you wish to make such an offer?
"I'll make the offer, come here. Be my little spoon."
siffed replied to your post “[[MOR]FRIGGA JUST DIED DON’T TOUCH ME”
Sif's face hurts my soul and haunts me forever
Everyone's face and body language in that scene gives me the urge to cry and hold them. Save for Odin, of course And Sif looked very distraught in it. As if she were still trying to keep a strong front but wanting to crumble and cry.
