2013.12.28 - Making of a King

Sif hasn't actually left the city. She made sure she left no trail as to where she was though. She made sure Heimdall understood she wanted no information on her whereabouts given unless it was because he presence was required in battle or her King summoned her. Her weapons were gone from the apartment. Her clothing. The maids had been sent back to Asgard.
Wherever she had been, she currently sits in an old biker bar. The air is filled with smoke and the scent of stale beer. The music is too loud, as are the voices that call out. In the middle of the bar, a crowd has gathered. "You gonna let her talk to you like that, man? Teach the bitch a lesson!"
Standing in the middle of the crowd, at a pool table, is a biker the size of Volstaag. And Sif. Who is dressed in a pair of jeans, a red corset and a black leather jacket with no weapons visibly on her.
The shout causes her to smirk, her eyes a dangerous ice blue. "Yes. By all means... Teach me a lesson you pitiful waste of space."
The door opens to let yet more people into the small bar, the *whoosh* of cold, night air bringing a momentary chill to the main room. Hanging towards the back, is one Loki Odinson. Laufeyson. The exiled Prince that no one actually seems to see.
He doesn't enter completely, instead preferring to hang back at the door's edge, just inside. Blue eyes search the room, and there... there appears a smirk. Raising his arms to cross before him, he murmurs softly, "Oh, won't this be fun."
Goaded by both Sif and his friends, the man swings at Sif. And she just stands there, pool stick in hand. She lets herself be hit, her head only slightly budging. There's the crack of bone and the man howls in pain. "Who the fuck are you!?"
This causes a smirk to come from Sif. "I am the Lady Sif, born a Goddess and forged a Warrior. I was baptized in the tears of mine enemies and their children's children fear my name. I am rock and wheat and fire and ash. I am the Goddess of War."
And the the pool stick is swung, being used as a staff right across his jaw. From behind her, two of his buddies try to jump on the Goddess. One is caught in a spinkick as she whirls on them and the other caught around the throat and slammed into the floor. "Tsk tsk."
"Don't forget the part about bathing in the blood of your enemies," Loki calls just a little louder. As the fight begins in earnest, the god dressed in green and gold leathers strides forward, looking oh so very pleased... like a general on the battlefield.
As Sif fights, Loki doesn't feel the need to, though he does easily dodge in mock fright. Gaining another spot in the bar, he sets himself up, and there's a -look- that comes to his face. It's one that Sif'd easily recognize. The feeling of power over petty mortals... and in the next second, even as someone is finding himself one with the floor, the Asgardian Prince yells,
"Kneel!"
One man passes, thinking that he's scooting successfully past Loki in order to get to Sif, and the Trickster kicks a foot, and with a vicious flat hand, flips the man over, feet over his head.. and he makes a rather sickening *thump* sound on the ground.
Aah. She wondered how long it would take. She isn't the least bit surprised that it's Loki who has found her. Her eyes flick up and she smirks. "Details."
When all is said and done, Sif stands and turns to look around the bar, seeming completely relaxed. "Who's next?" Silence. "No one?" Beat. "So be it."
Moving through the throng of people and stepping of the unconcious bodies on the floor, she makes her way to the bar and picks up her glass of whiskey. "I'm not surprised it's you." The whiskey is downed in a single shot as she cast her eyes back to those in the bar. Many of them are trying to sneak towards the door while the others have done just as they were told and taken to knee.
Those trying to sneak towards the door will find themselves yanked off their feet backwards by a telekenetic hand, and land heavily upon the ground. Soon enough, everyone is down, either upon a knee or on their asses. Now, Loki looks momentarily satisfied as he addresses Sif.
"You don't really think my brother would have rubbed those brain cells together to make a thought, did you?" Tsk, tsk. "This," Loki holds his arms out, and he finally speaks to those who have heeded his command, and his tones are such as if he's addressing children. "is nothing to be ashamed of. You have a God, and a Goddess in your presence. You are so very, very .. blessed in this event. Giving due respect is only right... it is your birthright."
Dropping his arms, he turns away to join Sif at the bar. "You -had- to take the maids, didn't you."
"Not yet, I didn't." Sif smirks, giving a soft snort. "I imagine he's just now realizing I'm missing. Another two days before he realizes I'm not coming back."
She turns to look at Loki, then at the people and back again. "Let them out, Loki." She sounds.... somewhat amused really.
"He must learn to do things on his own, Loki. Without me or the maids. It is time he grows up and learns the truth of how harsh the Nine Realms are. I cannot babysit him anymore."
Loki exhales in a theatrically put-upon sigh, and turns to his small 'throng'. "You may rise," is given in easy but distinct command. Let no one believe that the God of Chaos isn't a true Prince of Asgard and once King.
Now, he returns his attention to the bar, and smirks as he looks at the attire she's chosen for the evening. "Oh, he knows you're gone. He's been to Asgard and back. Pleading with Heimdall to reveal his sight. And that's just what he's told me. Who knows what he's asked Mother, and his friends." Because, well... Loki's stuck down here. "Now, the not coming back bit, I think is slowly being realized."
Loki leans upon the bar, turning such that he's facing Sif directly. "You do know what sort of position you've put me in, yes? Your adopted child will have no mother, thus will have nothing keeping me from pounding them into the ground because my brother will be too addled in the thought of having to find you." How's that for impetus for returning home? "And now, I will have to find my own maids to make my food," though he really doesn't need them. Loki hunts, cooks.. and whatnot. Not the first time he's been exiled, and there've been worse places than Midgard!
A smirk graces his features once more and shrugs, "I really don't expect you to return. But, don't expect me to make my oaf of a brother into a king. Midgard has ruined him, and his friends have all but put him in frilly dresses for feasts."
Sif smirks. "I'll return when Thor figures it out and asks me to. Eddie can take care of himself. Arnthor and Astridr are safe in Asgard."
She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. "I didn't ask for your help, Loki. Yes, he needs to be made into a King. Before that, he needs to be made into a man. He won't do that as long as I'm there. He has been sheltered too much... Too much hidden from him... He needs to see the world for what it is... Learn to appreciate those around him...."
She sighs and looks away, and the heartbreak she's going through is visible for a split second. "Decide what it is he wants." She may well lose him completely for this.
"Odin won't put him on the throne like that, and you know it. And it'd gall him to put me there." That last bit is given with something of a bitter sneer. "So he has no choice but to remain, and Thor to remain here." Until his brother is recalled. "You know.. if Odin found out what Thor really is like at the moment, he'd be recalled to Asgard so quickly and be put on the front lines somewhere. Anywhere." Here... here now is a consideration. But it's passed with a shake of his head.
"Svartalfar landed yesterday. My brother and I dispatched them, though an interesting consideration raised its head. There may be more incursions now." Loki's shoulders give a lift in a shrug, "He's not going to have much chance to feast, I think."
"Therefore, there is no choice but to force Thor to grow up and mature. He will one day be king... His is a husband and a father... He needs to be battle hardened and the truth laid bare before him. I may not be what he chooses in the end but if I can get him to where he needs to be... Then at least I know that Asgard will not suffer at his hand because he is not able to handle the throne."
She sighs and pushes her cup away. "He is ungrateful and arrogant and childish and irrational and easily distracted... He is spoiled and pampered and soft." Her nose wrinkles in distaste. "It is time that he be forced to actually work to obtain something he desires."
She nods her head. "I saw. I am pleased that you are both well and safe. My apologies for not being there."
Loki laughs out loud, a genuine, amused sound. "Battle hardened? Here? Sif... has Midgard addled your senses? These people are chattel. Creatures yearning to be ruled, and yet your Avengers won't allow such a thing." That laugh is replaced by a soft, earnest tone, his words for Sif alone. "Unless he turns his back on his friends, there will be no fight." He considers for a long moment and puts his hand up as if to keep argument for one more moment. "Or unless he truly decides to try and stop those who are bent on destruction. After all, even I don't want to see Midgard destroyed."
"Destroyed?! Where is this Mid--"
Loki elbows the man daring to question him in the face with an easy flick before he continues as if uninterrupted.
"You can't rule a dead world."
Inclining his head at Sif's apology, there's a shadow that flickers across the Prince's face. "They were searching for me. I think they assume that because I am here, I'm an easy target. They were not able to send a report back, so there may be more coming."
"It is where he needs to start. He is not ready to see..." Sif stops herself and grinds her teeth together. "You are correct. He will not learn the lessons he needs to learn here." She had to forcibly stop herself from trying to shelter him again.
Her eyes slide to Loki and she looks pained for a moment. "I cannot be with you and Thor in these fights. He //must// learn, Loki." And it galls her that she is once more setting her own nature aside. "Make sure he sees what War truly is. Force him to see the darkest parts of it."
Loki studies Sif's face for a long moment before he exhales in a soft chuff. His expression shifts, and it's gain something of a resoluteness, and he inclines his head. "I know you cannot, Sif. But, when you hear word from the battlefield, do not be deceived."
He now straightens from his lean upon the bar and looks around the room, all emotion drained from his face. A hand rises in farewell to the Warrior Maid, and Loki begins to stride from the room, from the establishment. He's got plans...
One can see the wheels turning in Sif's head, her fingers drumming on the bar top and her eyes narrow faintly. Slowly, a smile that is far from her generally warm one, curves her lips. Her plan is being reformed and altered to something she thinks suits the end far better than what she had originally thought.
At Loki's words, she turns her gaze on him and stares a long a moment. Finally, she nods her head. "If necessary... Summon me..." Because he certainly has the power to do so and they both know it.
When he starts to take his leave, she stands herself and nods in return to the wave. "Fight well, Brother," is murmured before she gathers her jacket and tosses enough coin to pay for her drink on the bar.
Category:Log