1963-09-11 - Barriers
Summary: After returning to Asgard; Sif visits Loki in his cell.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
sif louis 

Bop-ta-tok-clap, bop-ta-tok-clap. Over and over there's a steady rhythm of sound from down in the Royal Dungeon, the dank cells of Asgard where the most dangerous criminals from various dimensions are kept. Normally it's quiet, sound doesn't travel from its depths save perhaps in the hallway immediately outside those four main cells. It's in those four cells that all of the artifice and sorcery capable of Asgard have gone into their construction. No magic creeps in or out past the transparent force barriers that bar each of those cells' occupants within. No hint of the existence of those people trapped in the dark dank oubliette… save for right now that simply steady rhythmic sound.

Bop-ta-tok-clap… it's a sound that comes from the impact of a baseball bouncing against the floor, the wall, then hopping into the air and landing in a catcher's mit. Over and over the ball is tossed along its way, while Loki lounges there amidst what finery he's been allowed to furnish his cell with. He's sitting on his rear, back to the far wall, feet resting on the ground with his knees lifted partially as he tosses the ball and catches it in turn as his thoughts wander elsewhere.

Other than that… the place is dank, quiet, save for the faint dripping of a trickle of water against the far stone wall that forces one to realize they're underground.


News travels fast around Asgard.
Almost like the pits of Harlem where all the women gather in their hen picking circles to talk about what Sally did that day or what Jane from around the corner said to Tom and his wife. Though, the news itself traveled in tight circles and upon her arrival, Heimdall gave birth to the news by word of mouth that nearly had Sif smirking. Though, she laid trust in the All Father to do what was right, and perhaps he had just enough of Loki's antics to do what should have been done a long time ago..

..according to her.

Aside from the ball dinging against the wall and caught by a mitt soon after, metal doors groan and creak, breaking the silence of the dungeon area, the sound itself traveling loud at first, then an omnious silence there after. Then come the steps. The steady steps of someone descending the long stair down into the depths of darkness that were lit with lights to at least give the prisoners some sembliance of peace. Or maybe it was comfort.

It did not take long for Sif to approach the cell in which Louis/Loki was kept, silver armor pressed to her body, vambraces fixed to her arms, sword and shield attached to her back. Her long, dark hair cascades along her shoulders in preparation to be tied up into a ponytail, but there was no battle to be fought here. Not just yet.

"Now what have you done to land yourself in this squalor."


"Sif," The answer comes, heralded by yet another round of the ball hitting the floor, the wall, then the glove. "So good of you to come visit me. I already feel my spirits lifting in anticipation of this exchange." Bop-ta-tok-clap.

But that catch is the last for it as he turns those green eyes to look upon the other Asgardian, his smile growing easily and given in just the same way. The glove and the ball both disappear in a brief flash of light, the illusion shedding itself of it reality and leaving the Prince of Asgard sans distraction save for her. He's left to gain his feet with a push of one hand to the floor, letting him rise slowly, a touch achily as he dusts off his hands on the lapels of his black and emerald coat.

"To what do I owe this pleasure? Simple curiousity? Let me dispel it. I was rude."

That's it, that's the explanation he offers. At least for now.


"I detect a hint of sarcasm, though I could mistake that for your normal tone of voice."

Sif came bearing nothing. While she had the thought to at least bring some of the best eatery that Asgard could have offered, her empty hands were a show of her consideration. Empty hands that soon cross over her chest, one leg kicked out so that she could remain in a relaxed stance instead of defensive. "There is no pleasure for you, only me." She smiles then, as she begins to pace, drawing an about face as she reaches her desired destination, only to repeat with the same amount of steps as before. "As much as I'd like to come here and gloat, I truly am concerned about the reason as to why you are here."

But upon hearing as to why? She stops cold, her mouth dropped just a little, her eyes widening slightly at the revelation. And then it happens. That sound that draws from her lips that would be considered merry if it weren't for the circumstance. She laughs. And it was loud and obnoxious, not to mention, downright cruel.


"I can understand your surprise!" Loki's voice lifts as he spreads his hands wide, but her laughter does not seem to phase him too terribly so. His smile remains and he steps forwards, resting a hand upon one of the stone outcroppings that border the transparent barrier which holds him from freedom. He leans there to the side, crossing a boot over his ankle oh so casually as he looks towards Sif.

"Though I do speak truth, of a sort." His lip twitches, for is that not alway what he has offered up as wisdom, truth of a particular shade that serves his purpose? He taps a fingertip upon that stone a his eyes meet hers again. "But come, offer me what you have learned still walking amongst the free and the living? Is there still music in the world? Is there still song?" He touches a hand to the center of his chest, affecting a tragic manner as if his one week or so of internment were an eon. "What news do you carry, sword maiden? Or are you here purely to indulge?"


"No surprise at all, old friend!" Sif remarks, for it was a truly funny and ironic thing. "Though what verrily surprises me is that the All Father has actually saw fit to punish you as such." The pacing, slow as it was, picks up again, this time arms pressed to the small of her back as if she were the scholar and he the pupil. Her head remains bowed as the smile that she once shared towards him due to the laughter she held slowly begins to fade as he presses on about the outside world, and possibly beyond.

It could have been nerves, pure anger at the thought, a glint of defiance on the surface of calm. "I do not know." It was ignorance. Pure and unadulterated ignorance. "Ten moons ago Heimdall banished me. I've only just returned three suns there after." She sighs faintly, as if bothered by her travels. "Though my path took me through Midgard. Why.. oh why.. old friend, your fondness extends to those people, I do not know. I found them bothersome. Loud. Rude. And their state of dress troubling." She steps closer to the barrier that separates the two, her eyes wide with curiousity, wonder.

"Do you know about 'outfits'? Apparently, as a woman, outfit seems to make her than her skills." As for news? That was it.


The smile slips to the other side of his mouth as his lips purse, amusement lighting his eyes as he starts to walk along the length of the barrier with her. He listens to her words and quirks his eyebrows at her confession of exile, then again that amusement returns upon this touching on of outfits as a concept. He takes a step back, hopping onto the edge of the table behind him, feet dangling as he folds his arms over his chest.

"Ah, actually I am fairly well-versed in the ways of Midgard, my lady." Loki lifts his fingers from his biceps as if shrugging without his shoulders. "It has been the last century and a turn that I have lived there. My absence from court has been spent amongst the mortals. So indeed, I know of these outfits as you say."

He shakes his head slightly, brow furrowing as if so terribly sad. "The mortals have something of a caste system, but it offers little striation for those in the upper echelons once a certain level of success has been reached. So further methods of differentiation is needed. Hence the embrace of 'fashion'."

A solemn nod is given, "You should take it well, Sif. For that you were considered for your outfit bespeaks, at the least, of them believing you to be one of the worthy. I am sure you cut a lovely silhouette in your time there."

There's a pause then, and he turns his head to the side. "Though if you truly wish discussion on the matter of mortals I can free myself of such levity as your camaraderie inspires and speak to the topic. But if you wish merely to add fuel to your displeasure then well… that is another animal."


"Hmph." Is the only sound that courses from Sif's lips. "How very low of you."

While he sits, she continues to pace. "The caste system of Midgard is flawed. There are things. People, other than yourself and your brother that walk amongst them freely. In my brief time there, I've met the Prince of Darkness, who would like your audience as I have promised him." Her hand lifts, finger extending to lightly tap her finger against her bottom lip. "Seems you're a prize amongst the underworld."

Though, her taking their fashion well does draw her mind back to the outfit that was chosen; an airy thing made of greens and light blues, hints of red with flecks of gold. A bohemian style of dress that fit her form gracefully. "I was called crazy." She states, then leaves it alone there after.

"As it stands, Loki." She states, stopping in the middle of her path. "I've already acquired my tutor for the ways of Midgard. The Prince of Darkness that I spoke of. As he speaks that we would only attend to matters of Midgard only to fight or.. as he put it, fuck.. it has me wondering which that has kept you away from Asgard for so long."

She clears her throat, as if speaking and asking such things stained her tongue. "Now.. what say you that I appeal to the All Father for your release. For imprisoning you for such a time for being rude is slightly laughable, yet understandable. And hopefully is considered as such a minor offense."


At the comment of his 'station' Loki's left eyebrow climbs up a smidge further as he considers the words offered to him. He remains there on the table, then slips off of it to advance a few steps. Leaning to the side with his hand against the edge of the stone, fingertip lightly touching the invisible field before him, causing faint ripples in reality to flow back and forth over the barrier preventing him from departing.

"Sif," He looks to the side at the table he just vacated, then back towards the tall woman on eye level with him. "I was rude, s'truth. But there is more to the matter than just what has passed between the All-Father and myself. I would not have you become embroiled in matters of which you could not affect their outcome. Especially as you offering such voice would bode ill for your place in court."

He waves a hand and slowly those ripples disappear. "If there is one thing you can see that affects all of us who stand as the Royal Family… it is that no matter what passes we lead with one thing. Our pride." He shakes his head slowly, "It is dangerous for you to step between such monumental clashes."

Loki then smiles and lifts his hands, "Take my advice, go to Midgard, seduce this Princeling, and wait. Matters will progress as they must."


All things were considered as Loki says his peace. Her gaze lowers to the floor, clearly in a moment of thought as that finger lifts again to tap at her lips. Slowly. Ever so slowly. She could take out her anger on the courts at what Heimdall has done to teach him a lesson, but it would definitely become a blowback in which she would suffer. It was folly.

"Tell me of the matter and have me decide for myself, Loki." It was those words that cause her to step forward. "Do not presume to protect me by keeping me in the dark. What happens to you both, Odinsons, effects us all. Me. Heimdall. Fandrall, Hogun.. Volstagg.." Her hand lifts to tap a nail against the barrier.

"We both have been gone away from this place for far too long. Speak or not at all. Forever."


A breath is taken, and there is Loki's smile again. It's a small thing, gentle now as he shakes his head towards her. "I have told you most of what I can, Sif. I left Asgard such time ago, my reasons are my own. I returned and in doing so I have earned Odin's ire for I allowed myself to speak for once without forethought." He looks around slowly, lifting a hand opposite of hers as if seeking to touch her own. Then he draws back and shakes his head. "So in truth… this sentence is just."

He steps back and looks around the small cell, albeit furnished so rather nice and well. A glance over his shoulder is given to her, eyes downcast. "Perhaps if I turned my energies to escape I could arrange such. But then I would truly become a traitor in not only my father's eyes, but in Asgard's a wells."

With that said he spreads his hands as if washing them free of all such detritus.


Sif leans her head forward to press against the barrier, even as those two hands 'touch' and he moves away, she leans back enough to brace herself with a purse of her lips. There was a slight wriggle to her shoulders as she gives a shake of her head, her gaze flitting towards the ceiling that keeps all sound confined to that large, carved tunnel.

"If that is what you want." Sif murmurs quietly, drawing slowly away from the barrier itself to take a few steps back onto the path that she marked as hers.

"If that is what you truly want."


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