Day 8; Orb 1; Intro

[brosif]

[Sif sits in a throne that does not feel like her own, but that others have insisted she take. Nonetheless, she does look regal – she has never had a problem taking command when a mission lies so plainly in front of her. This kingdom needs help. When her quest has been fulfilled, she can go home. That is the way of such things.]

Greetings. I am [and she pauses a moment, the words still uncomfortable] Prince Sif. That is what I have been asked to call myself. Like most of you, the title was thrust upon me and I have no need of it in the long term. But here, I represent my home of Asgard. It would not do for a representative of the Æsir to leave a kingdom unaided that asks for help. I am sure that the same holds true for those of you that choose to represent your own realms.

And so, I would seek this kingdom’s best and brightest to join me in an excursion to the Two Faced Forrest, to investigate these thorns. There is a sizeable reward available to anyone who can help us provide further information about them.

Comments

[sorcerous]

And how dull, to be so ignorant of the truth before your eyes.

[brosif]

And how would you know what was in front of my eyes, Loki? You, who let go of Asgard. You, who does not have to look upon your family every day and see the space they leave for you?

You have no idea what has been in front of my eyes, Loki. You let go.

[sorcerous]

And what reason is there to hold?

My patience is exhausted. My attempts are exhausted. You and your kind broke the last chance I had.

[brosif]

My kind? [So he has divorced himself from the Aesir. She throws her hands up, scoffing. A mannerism that very few others, save Loki, bring out in her.]

What chance of yours did we foil, exactly?

[sorcerous]

Your kind. Thor's kind. Warriors with thick tongues and ill manners and no thought. Brave enough to start a war, stupid enough for it to be one you cannot finish, and, truly damning, honest enough to know your mistake.

I will never call you Prince. Nor will I swear fealty to you, Sif Darkhaired, Sif Oathbreaker.

[brosif]

You put the idea in Thor's head to venture into Jötunheimr, not I.

But I do know my mistakes, Loki. I hold myself accountable for them. But what about you? You tried to cut off a branch of Yggdrasil. You turned on your friends. You killed your own brother. And from what I can gather, you ran away, rather than face the consequences of your actions.

It is difficult to reconcile these actions -- the actions of a coward -- with the boy I grew up with. But if this is indeed who you are now, Loki the runaway, then rest assured that I have no need of your fealty.

[sorcerous]

But it is Thor who went.

Thor. Call him Thor. Do not call him my brother -- he is not, and he never was.

[brosif]

Ah. Did that make it easier, when striking him down?　To put all of the years you spent together out of your mind?

You may be content lying to yourself. I will not indulge you.

Thor, your brother. Thor, who calls you brother still.

[sorcerous]

Thor is deceived. Thor, not I.

[brosif]

You have always been too able to deceive your brother. But in this case, I believe you are deceiving yourself.

That's an ability belonging solely to the minds of the weak.

[sorcerous]

You do not understand. You will not understand! If it weren't for your actions, Thor would have been unharmed. He would have stayed in the place he belongs.

[ Far away from the throne. ]

I loved Thor more than I loved life.

But nothing matters now.

[brosif]

[At this, Sif rises from her chair, hands clutching at the arms of it.]

Thor belongs in Asgard.

How do you claim to love someone that you would have held in exile? That you struck down?

Let me ask, Loki. Did you see him draw his last breath, from your lonely throne? Or did you look away, like a coward?

[sorcerous]

What was there to see? He would draw his last breath whether or not my eyes saw.

[ His voice has changed, with this. Tight, soft, hollow. ]

[brosif]

You couldn’t even watch.

[Had Sif not been witness to her friend’s death, Loki’s voice – tinged with something she would name regret, even if he never would – may have stirred some sense of compassion.

But she did see Thor die. And Loki had caused it. And thus, his words enraged her further.]

It makes – you killed him, Loki. And you couldn’t even look.

[sorcerous]

The act -- of a monster.

[ He doesn't know what those words mean to him.

Is it a confession? Does he admit that this is what he's been this entire time? -- Or is it a hope, an attempt to convince himself, an attempt to take control of his self, his destiny, his anguish...

He does not know.

He glances aside, where the mirror from West Haven rests, face-down. The mirror that reflected the truth of his face, dark and patterned and red eye's glow. ]

I. Am a monster.

[brosif]

Does that make it easier for you? Giving yourself a role? Call yourself Monster, act as Monster, and therein lies no need to justify Monster’s actions?

[Quietly:]

Does that make it easier for you?

[sorcerous]

The more you speak, the clearer it is: you know little of my mind.

[brosif]

I never claimed to know your mind, Loki. Though I once imagined that I had some idea of what was in your heart.

[sorcerous]

In my heart? Nothing but quiet, frozen wastes.

Do not let the boy follow you.

[brosif]

...Clearly.

[She deflates a little, sitting back on the throne. He's still a contradiction. Which may just be a very delicate way of saying "liar."]

I've already informed him that he would be a burden on the trip.

[sorcerous]

Hmm.

[ A sound that may be familiar: a little, quiet noise of disagreement, without quite disagreeing. Faolan's sense of smell has done very well for Loki. ]

So be it. There is a girl-child, as well. A young sorceress.

I will not suffer you crossing my path.

[brosif]

Hmm.

[Sif leans her head back in the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. It is a familiar enough noise, and she does not bother to argue with it. There's a ghost of a smirk at her lips, more out of habit than anything else.]

The girl's better left to you, then. I've no head for sorcery.

[She'd always needed him to do even the most basic of enchantments. Not that any Aesir were expected to know sorcery, but it was a point of pride for Sif to be better at that princes in anything they attempted. She was the sister of the gatekeeper, and should have had some skill at it. But no. Some things were Loki’s alone.

She opened her eyes, leaning forward, moment of reflection passed.]

You will have to suffer it. I would not ask for any fealty, but this place is small and we've both been drawn to it. To expect our paths to remain uncrossed is unrealistic.

[sorcerous]

[ Nor do you have a head for raising wolves, he thinks -- his guess, of Faolan's alternate form -- but reminding them both of Loki's wolf-son will do no good for either. That is centuries to the past, besides. ]

Then come to me, lady warrior, and I will throw myself upon your spear. You may slice my head away and display it for all -- see, Loki, murderer. See the one who indulged a fantasy of being a hero, and met his end for it.

Come, Sif. Try me.

[brosif]

I am a warrior, Loki. I have fought hard for it. Harder than I care to speak of.

You threw yourself off the Bifrost.

You will not get me to finish the task for you. I will not have my accomplishments insulted in such a manner.

[sorcerous]

That was not insult!

[ This is a shout, of fury, of anger, of desperation. ]

I have lied to you, I have dealt you insult again and again. You have told me now to stop, and it is only now that I have spoken the truth.