Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise } for Chinathor

[bornandforged]

He has not been the easiest man to find of late, though Sif has not really been one to talk on that score. Avoiding the embassy in New York for the palace at home, and then the palace for her own retreat, and then that for her family's estate on a different distant patch of coastline has left her out of pocket for a week before her appearance today, now, here. She steps out of a neat tear in the world, blade returned to its sheath as the rift's smooth edges seal shut behind her.

"Thor," she greets him, a hand clapped on his arm to aid in announcing her presence in case his name wasn't called heartily enough to do the trick. Her smile is as friendly as ever, the threat of nerves well-buried beneath cheer. "How goes it here with you?" she asks. She looks to survey their surroundings, his hide-out here away from the court. While faced away her shoulders find a way to straighten one last fraction of a degree, and when she turns back it is with hands caught before her, knuckles interwoven and left to rest on shining plate.

"There is a thing I would speak with you about," she says, not because she wasn't really interested in discussing his recuperation after all, but because finding the gauzy corner of the bandage here now in her fingers and the delicate new skin beneath already stuck and pulling it is too much to resist the urge to rip it off. She finds his eyes, "To do with Loki, and with me."

Comments

[bornandforged]

Sif's laugh joins his when feet leave the floor and she's still grinning when Thor sets her back down, a hand lingering on his elbow as long as his remains on her shoulder. "We will," she agrees. She squeezes his arm and then laughs again at mention of battlefield antics, scoffing, "Please do! You could all use the practice."

One more thump and then she's pulling away, headed for the door to order more wine. That the prince is present means refills are close at hand, and in a minute or two she is setting flagons down before him and retaking her seat. She kicks her feet up onto an empty chair beside Thor and pours for them both.

"So," she says, leaning back with her cup, "Do you care to talk about this lunacy matter now, or later when we are drunk, or not at all?" She did not miss it nor his look when he said it, just postponed asking, selfishly preoccupied. Now that it is foremost she looks mildly concerned in the manner of someone who is actually at least moderately concerned but making the effort to downplay it, more than willing to listen but not about to force him to speak.

[erud_ther_buin]

"Later," Thor says emphatically, sort of in that register that that's a conversation for another day and time. Perhaps if they had a year left, or if things weren't going well enough between himself and Jane, and he still had a drove of secrets and memories Death had granted him to uncover yet. Any given sacrifice means more and is less of a problem, on average, when the cosmic significance of it and contribution to solving horrible future problems is uncovered in the course of fate. They'll both feel better when that comes about.

And he'll feel better when she comes home. Thor throws himself down on the broad furniture, and raises his cup in toast. "And it was not all wounds and ill result, you should know. I daresay, it was lunacy in part that has brought me to make this tenuous peace with my brother. What shall we toast to?"

[bornandforged]

Sif nods, granting Thor that reprieve without protest. Disinclined to let it go entirely, naturally worried when her friend begins tossing around words like that after his (and their) recent experiences, but willing to let it slide in favor of happier things on this occasion. She reaches across and pats his shoulder in friendly solidarity. "As you wish.

"To tenuous peaces?" Sif suggests at talk of toasts and manages to not even quite mean it as a joke, for all that she is war. But it is easier to be that little bit more serious about other things: "To the future? That things may yet be better than they have been? New adventures?"

She gives her head a toss, ruffling a hand through dark hair. "All of the above," she decides, lifting her cup to him, "And more beside. Plenty to drink to, for we've plenty of drinking to do."