eswareinmal | Loki'd >:(

[Cho stares at Sif, her lips pursed. She's still a little miffed about the way she said of course.

When she finally answers, her voice is very flat.]

A map.

That is procured easily enough.

[Sif cannot imagine what would put the sorceress in ill spirits. Perhaps, as Loki could certainly serve as proof, it is simply in their nature.]

[Either Cho has become more sensitive or Sif doesn't realize how condescending she can sound.]

I would imagine so. Yes.

[Beat.]

Would you like my help?

[Sif would call herself direct more than condescending.]

That would be appreciated.

Does she live in the palace?

[Cho is already putting on her boots to leave and attempting to lock Marmalade in the nursery. It's a toss up whether or not it'll end up working.]

Yes. I can take you to her quarters. I--

Is that a chicken?

[Cho looks behind her. She's not even out the door of her room and the bird is loose. She scoops her up and locks her away again.]

Yes. She's a probability.

[It's the simplest way to explain her. Cho heads out to the stables and hops on Charlie, the orb following her obediently. She could just walk, but this is faster ]

Give me a couple of minutes.

Oh. On Asgard we simply call them livestock.

[Little probability in that.]

I will wait by the gate.

[Cho smiles a little.]

She's not your average chicken. She's a nexus of magical possibility and mathematical probability. Not really an eating chicken. I doubt you could kill her even if you had a mind to make her into dinner.

That sounds like something of a challenge.

[A jest. It would be untoward to slay an ally's pet.]

A couple of minutes was a pretty accurate estimate. "It's not," Cho said, answering Sif's last comment from the orb, which she put back around her neck. Charlie troted up with his owner on his back, and the small woman slid off as he slowed, feet barely on the ground before a valet tried to lead Charlie away. The horse was having none of it. There wasn't really any arguing with the massive beast once he'd made up his mind.

"But if you try, I'm taking no responsibility for anything that happens to you or your weaponry." Charlie waited patiently for Cho to retrieve her sword from around his neck. She walked toward the door while she buckled the belt around her waist, and the horse followed a few steps before heading for the apple tree near the stables. "Shall we?"

"Perhaps another time," she says, gamely. With a jerk of her head, she leads the way towards Sansa's quarters. The way to them is nearly as familiar as her own, and no one on the Princess Stone's staff treats Sif's presence as anything but commonplace.

"Do you need anything of Alayne's in particular to help with the spell?"

"There are differing schools of opinion on that matter in Rowan. Strictly speaking, Sorcery is worked through the symbols and the words and the harmonics of it. Witches and Enchanters deal more with the emotional and spiritual side of it all. Of course, magic is energy and life is energy so ruling out all connection out of hand is rather foolish." Cho was talking more to herself than to Sif. The other woman had already confirmed that she had no command over any sort of magic.

Before they reached Sansa's rooms, Cho took a detour into another set. She didn't bother to wait and see if Sif would follow her. She'd only be a moment. Another set of quarters fit for a princess, all frills and lace and various shades of purple and blue. When she threw open the main set of doors, an attendant snapped to attention and looked at her with no small amount of surprise. "Princess."

Cho nodded at her. "I need a map. The most complete one you can find. And you need to hurry." The girl bobbed a curtsey and scurried off. "Bring it to Princess Stone's quarters," Cho called after her. "I'll be waiting there."

And then she and Sif were walking again. "Does she wear the silk dresses the castle gave her?"

What Cho is saying about magic isn't entirely different from some of the explanations that she's heard from Loki. Earlier in their youth, when Sif still had half a mind to keep up an interest in it. It's a weakness, she admits -- her dedication is twofold. She tends to throw herself into her passions and disregard all else.

Her eyes land on the closet doors with a smile.

"Most certainly. The Princess Stone fits into her role with a greater ease than most."

Cho walks over to the wardrobe, figuring that waiting for permission from someone who isn't there is a waste of time. The dresses inside are nice, and she's pleased to note that most of them are not made of silk. Maybe it's just her that the palace seamstresses enjoy torturing. Maybe they know. Maybe it's their way to try and force her into the role of monarch and out of that of a majik.

"Not all of these are silk," she says. "Maybe we'll get lucky." Then she steps aside, looking at Sif hopefully. "I don't suppose you're detail oriented enough to know which dress is missing?" And, to the staff. "Does anyone remember what the Princess was wearing the last time you saw her?"

Her own attendant comes rushing in, map in hand, and holds it out to her, dipping down so low that she's almost on her knees. "Thank you." She spreads it on the table and begins dividing it up in her mind. She's not going to have a repeat of the last time she searched for someone. "Go down to the kitchens. Bring me back a--" Asking for a bag of sugar is sure to get her some more of that scandalized reaction they seem so fond of. "Cake. A lot of cake."

"She was wearing a light cotton dress. Dark green, if memory serves."

Sif has no mind for fashion, but does have one for detail. When it matters, when she is tracking prey.

"She is fastidious in her cleanliness, and her staff undoubtedly sent the garment to be aired out once she went to bed. It would be in the laundry, now."

She gestures to one such servant, who runs off to procure said garment.

"That gives a time frame, at least. She was here long enough to -- is this really the time for cake?"

Well, that won't do her much good. If one of the staff knows which dress is missing, she'll know how she needs to search. If they do not, she will begin with the same spell she used for the king and see where that leads her.

Cho doesn't rise to Sif's irritation. She's taken Loki's warnings to heart. "Do you want me to look for her?" She wanders over to Sansa's vanity, takes a small bowl and a bottle of perfume. Personal enough. It will do. "Sorcery on this scale requires a great deal of energy. The easiest way to replenish that expended energy is with food. Sugar, specifically."

She sits at the table and takes out her pen, empties it into the bowl and then puts a small measure of the liquid back, adding a generous splash of the perfume. "You've said you have no command of magic. Let me do what I do, please. I'm very good at it."

Sif holds her hands out in front of her, placating. Her vanity is not so keen as to be wounded by the expertise of another in a subject of which she herself has no skill.

"Do what you will. Of course, should this spell backfire and hurt the princess, I will naturally hold you and your entrails responsible."

"She will be perfectly safe," Cho assures Sif, beginning the complex and intricate spell that will hopefully find Sansa. It's just lucky for her that Sif can not read the magic. Explaining the method as she did with Loki isn't an experience she relishes repeating. "Though, if you'd like to try and get at my entrails, you do so at your own risk." The sword hanging at her waist is not merely for decoration. "I've fought very hard to keep them right where they are."

The threat earns the strange girl more respect in Sif's eyes than the magic itself.

"You and the many others that have already died at my hand," she replies, in a way that somehow manages to sound amiable.

There's something in the easy, almost happy way Sif says that that bothers Cho on a very deep level. She knows her hands aren't clean. Not any more. She's got more blood and pain in her past than she can ever hope to wipe clean. But she doesn't enjoy it. She's not proud of the lives she's taken, she's proud of the ones she's saved.

So she nods, smile tight, politeness for the sake of not riling Sif up. If she's happy, she's less likely to be a problem. Hopefully also less likely to give Cho a hard time about how she works her magic.

Sansa's man comes back with a plate of cakes - tiny, dainty, feminine little things. Figures. Cho stuffs a bunch in her mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and works the first spell. A successful casting. No Sansa. She refolds the map, focusing on a different section, and starts again.

Sif has taken lives to save lives. She was born in a time of peace -- raised on stories of the noble Aesir reluctantly drawn into a bitter war, and triumphing. And thus she sees an honor in death that those before her generation, and perhaps those born after it, are incapable of.

Still. When she believed her time had come and the Destroyer walked through the streets of Midgard, she was shocked by the extent to which she wished not to die.

A weakness, to be certain. One she hopes to do away with in time.

"Anything?"

"She's not in this area," Cho says, quickly showing her the part of the map already searched. The castle and the village. She plans on working out from where they currently are.

Hopefully Sif will realize that knowing where Sansa is not is almost as valuable as knowing where she is. Provided she has not gone the way the king did not that long ago. "I'll let you know when I find something." In the mean time, all Sif can really do is stay out of the way.

She doesn't seem the type to enjoy that sort of situation at all.

Enjoy, no. There is a feeling of restlessness in letting others do all of the work that she enjoys not. In her own fields of expertise, Sif is rarely content to let a plan unfold without input. But sorcery is far outside those realms.

Like with Loki and his magic, she lets Cho work her spell without comment. Instead, she surveys the room. Looking for any clues about her disappearance that Sansa may have left behind.

It only takes Cho ten more minutes to find the correct section. And then another couple to narrow it down to a small, easy to search area. "She's here," she says, placing a bracelet over the area to circle it. "Upriver. This is where you'll find her." She's already stuffing her face with cake again, pale and a little shaky. She'll need a good nap and a steak.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject