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The blonde, utterly gorgeous, goddess sat in front of the bakery, at a rather picturesque wrought iron chair and table. A newspaper was in one hand and a tea cup in another. She had some sort of sweet confection on the plate in front of her, ignored for the moment as she scanned over the headlines in an idle manner. Her blonde hair flowed freely down her back, a black, tight fitting jacket hugged her figure over a green turtle neck and high waisted pair of jeans.
The weather in this small corner of New York was crisp, but not chilly as of yet. The afternoon sun warming the air and sidewalk around the small cafe to a pleasant temperature. It was quiet, as far as New York City was concerned, but the crowds amble around to each of their own business was merely background noise to Amora.
*
The day could have been considered long but it was short for Sif; sleeping in better part of the morning that draws on to the afternoon, yet by the time that she was dressed and left alone to hit the town, the sun was already starting to dim it's lights upon the backdrop of what some would call a dusty white desert. Even then, Sif remained dressed to the nines, that is her station now, she supposes. Though the outfit itself did not call to be dressed so richly, one had to get used to a pencil skirt, heels, jacket that sinches the neck so annoyingly and high pressed hair with really, really huge sunglasses.
That effect gives her a permanent resting bitch face as she ambles down the street. Into the bakery. Out with a cup of the delicacy they call coffee and a nice slice of cherry pie that oozes itself upon the plate. She did not sit inside to eat, no. The confines of the bakery itself and endless chatter would drive a woman mad who stayed up all night drinking mead and doing naught all to unpack.
It was the beautiful blonde tresses that garnered her attention, one knows those strands of gold from anywhere. How could anyone not? Heads turned when Amora walked, man and woman, even if they weren't kindly to that 'side'. So with a light drop of her plate and a pull out of her chair, Sif settles in, a slight lean forward so that she could manage to breathe out of her nose and not her mouth. "How ever do these mortals manage to really live in the clothes that we currently wear? I've a mind to throw everything into the street, run in the bluff screaming like a woman mad."
*
If Amora noted the warrior lady's arrival into the bakery, she didn't appear to be concerned with it. Only by Sif's pulling out the chair, did Amora lower the newspaper and glance up, a pair of white rimmed sunglasses perched on her nose. She eased back, leaning back in a chair and hooking a golden brow upwards. "Oh, they are not truly so bad. The last time I visited Midgard? That was interesting. So many skirts and voluminous layers. It was quite intricate. You'd have been at a loss, warrior lady. France was quite enthralled with putting on powdered wigs and putting living animals into the hair."
She reached for her tea, sipping on it gently as she eyed the woman opposite of her. "What brings you out to this street of many? I take it that you too have rejoined the royal court here in the city? That makes how many of our kind here? How odd. Soon Midgard will boast more of Asgard's finest than Asgard itself. Worry not though, I shall do my best to lower the quality of the company to a more moderate level."
*
A smile, a small one was given to Amora as the paper lowers, which soon vanishes as her eyes direct themselves to the coffee and the sweet treat she manages to buy. The fork was taken up, delved into the pie, cutting it in various pieces with a twist of her lips. "As opposed to now?" She asks. "Men and women alike wear the hides of animals upon their backs like the days of old, yet cut close and hugged. Even upon their feet, with sticks that reach a near mile high that makes balance improbable." That thought alone causes Sif to snigger; a woman who could laugh at her own horrible jokes if no one else could.
The question, and what follows after, has Sif carefully placing her fork down, favoring her coffee for now.
"How can you ever think that you could lower the quality of company?" She shakes her head. "I've been inside all day. I needed air and a stroll. You, however.. have oddly enough been missed. A place of worry in mine own heart and mind. Pray tell, how art thee?"
*
Amora shifts, stretching out a leg and gesturing to one particularly 'elegant' example of a high heel that Sif so chuckled over. "Oh darling, they're hardly that complicated. I've worn something similar for centuries. Not that I need them, but they do so add that element of intent when you're walking. It draws the eyes via sound.." She rolled her shoulders back as she settled back into her chair, reaching for her tea once more with both hands and sipping it.
"I am not in the grace of any in the royal family. I am an outcast and a criminal. I have no titles and no standing in Asgard's court. How else am I do see my status? I am 'Enchantress' no more. Apprentice and bound, Amora of no where." She murmured softly, tilting her head to the side as she peered at Sif with a flat expression.
"As for.. where I have been? No where of import. I have done nothing of import. A shallow tale is mine. Bereft of any intrigue, trouble, interest, or ambition."
*
Sif's lips form a thin line as Amora's shoe was produced, along with a narrowing of an eye and a single thought to ask her to teach her the ways of being a.. feminine woman in such torrid times. But that thought was passed along for a better conversation. One conversation that was more important to her than anything else in this world, save one.
"Mmh." Is all she could murmur for now, drawing the cup upright to take a sip, her other hand reaching to tug free the dark shades that she wore so that her blue eyes could be seen. Dimmed, at best. Lacking excitement, yet concentrated on the words that fly through her brain like an errant kite.
"You may feel that these things are not of import. But they are." She lets out a breath, the cup placed upon the table as she shifts to face Amora within her chair. "Tell me." She did not demand this, but it almost was. "While I have.. oddly enough, missed our rivalry I have been curious. Your ousting from court was a devastating one that I have felt many nights after. Unfair, pray Heimdall hears and cuts me down with words. Unfair.. I say." She leans back then, her jaw working, tense. "Your studies. Your tutelage under the dark Queen. If there is word to tell, spare none? I pledge my sword to you, quieted. Yet in earnest and true. Which dares me to care for a foe and love her all the same."
*
Amora pushed the sunglasses further up her nose to cover the green eyes that remained so hollow and empty of emotion as Sif's attention focused solely on her. A smile, fake and drawn from memory painted on her lips as she shrugged and waved a hand palm upwards. "There is naught to tell, Lady Sif. A fools errand is mine. For I know nothing and am nothing. Left to the slings and arrows of time as I am. Bound and lacking." She murmured, her voice bland as she heaved a sigh and reached for her tea.
"As I said. A tale unworthy of telling. There is nothing that has happened. No trouble, no ambition, no faults, or fears or peril. A yawning expanse of the sun rising and falling while I remain as I am and Midgard goes on."
*
"Do not play games Lady Amora!" Sif nearly cries out. "Bound and lacking? You are naught! This is unlike you, so unlike you it is!" Sif, nearly quick to anger was put on edge. This was not the woman that she knew. A woman who could turn heads with a smile, a woman who, with just a lift of her pinky finger carried more life within her than Sif had taken with swords. It was frustrating.
"I've a mind, aye. A mind to plea to the All-Father to return you to the court. Aye! Damn Karnilla and her lessons. Her offer as Mistress to the Enchantress. She who supped upon your tears at the right moment to ensnare.." Her hand lifts to slam upon the table, creating a dent and spilling tea and coffee to pool within.
"Respect." She says quietly, her hand shaken out as she presses her fingers upon the bridge of her nose, missing glasses, which were placed upon the table and shook with her previous pound. "Respect if she sworn you to secrecy. Respect if you are oathbound, aye. But you have changed, my lady Amora. There is no life there, not in these words. These words break even me.."
*
Amora lifted the tea cup up and out of the way of the rage of the warrior lady. Still she sat, nimbly upon her chair with her legs crossed, seemingly unmoved by Sif's slamming of her fist and upsetting the various plates and sweets therein. Her gaze fell to the dent left behind, a cool brow lifting upwards as she calmly sipped at her tea and reached for a napkin to toss onto the growing pool of coffee.
"Your pleas would fall upon deaf ears, Sif, if you were to beg for my pardon. The line of Bor holds no kidness for a woman of my sort. Tis one lesson I have learned in my time spent thusly. The pride of the royal family is not to be trifled with. They will not recant the ruling so staged at court. Nor risk the wrath and anger of a foreign court such as Nornheim. Asgard needs her allies after all."
Her words were just as bland as before and she sipped at her tea, cup and matching plate held delicately between both hands. "Better you spent your energies where there is an enemy that you can hit. For there are none here that you might vanquish with a sword in hand. If I am changed it is as the All-father desired. For he must know and see all."
*
"Aye." Sif agrees, they would fall upon deaf ears. But Sif could make a passionate case. A passionate case that would fall upon deaf ears with the song of Loki's voice singing 'I told you so' and others..
"Are you sure that this is the only lesson you have learned, Amora?" She asks thusly. "For a long time ago, lessons were built with compassion. A punishment but a lesson none the less. This is cruelty." Her words were cut off as she recovers what remains of her coffee, the napkin taken with the other hand to dab the mess that she made, placing it atop of other napkins to stop the spill from running through.
"I fear that there is a lacking of enemies as of late. And more diplomacy than I can toss a quiver too. This instance.. included." She lifts the cup in a toast. "There is no if, Amora. Only certainty. You are not the woman I knew. And I aim to figure out why. I oathbound myself to you and I shall not quit, even if you release me from this servitude."
*
That earned another sigh and Amora set the tea cup and plate down with a soft click on the dented table top. She took off her sunglasses, folding them and tucking them into the top of her neckline. The blonde goddess leaned forward, her finger tips pressing together as she eyed the coal-haired warrior goddess before her. A thinning of her lips following.
"I am better off as I am, Sif. I feel no pain, no anguish, no sorrow or fear. I feel nothing. There is no anger at my situation for I cannot feel it. There is no sorrow at losing my position. There is no rage or bitterness against the Crown or the Prince that set me on my course and left me to such a punishment. I feel nothing. Tis a better thing than to feel it all too keenly. I am better for it. Perhaps the Queen meant ill in this, I cannot say for I know it not.." She lifted her hands up and then let them settle down onto her lap.
"I ask you, to use your time to a better duty. For I am not in need."
*
Slowly, as Amora's words press on, Sif shakes her head. She even places her hands upon the arms of the chair to lift brief and drag closer. That motion even dares to move the table as she presses against, leaning as well, be damned her jacket gets wet and ruined from this gesture.
"Amora, no." She tries to reach out to clasp Amora's hands within her own, and if she holds them, she'd keep them close. Surely, there would be looks. Such an open and earnest act of something unfamiliarly displayed in public.
"Without emotion, any emotion at all, the world that Amora, you.. possessed has ended. Do you see color? Do you see laughter and the look of love within ones eye? Do you see hate? Do you see anger, regret.. humiliation?" She squeezes her fingers.
"All is lost, when one cannot cry. When one cannot experience comfort in regards to those tears, that one cannot allow their screams of anger, love, passion or surprise to resonate within the nine realms. All is lost, when the soul is disconnect; when one cannot feel that strange beast beat within their chest. When one cannot agitate the universe with a shake of a fist or wrapped in a lovers embrace. When one cannot hope and have that hope crushed and renewed once again."
She shakes her head, then lets her hands go if she has them. The coffee was no longer desired; the pie even less so. "All is lost for even in that moment when we cannot be slaves to our passions, to feel it drive us. To enjoy the warmth of an embrace from a lover or a friend. The kiss upon their lips or a bite upon the shoulder. Gods Amora.. I submit myself to these emotions I feel right now and damn myself in the process. I shall renew you. Fix you so that you can cry, laugh, be wrathful. -This- is my new duty; to cast it aside now would be a tragedy that I will never overcome."
*
Sif captures Amora's hands easily enough, for the blonde had hardly any inclination to resist the grasp. A quirk of her brow followed Sif's impassioned speech and a slow tilt of her head sent golden lock spilling over her shoulder. When all was done though she retracted her hands, reaching for a napkin to brush off the crumbs and dab at the damp tea that had been upset and soaked through her sweater's sleeves.
"I see naught of what you spoke, Sif. And I am better for it. It was my emotions that got me into such a state. That stripped me of everything. If I had never had them, I would not be cast out as I am. For you see, I let them rule me and in doing so fell." She rolled her shoulder back, rising as she pushed back her chair.
"I was a wretch before, a shadow made bitter by the loss of love that was never mine to chase. I was pathetic and used lovers to pad the ache of a broken, longing that would never be in all the futures in all the realms. I spent centuries desirious of a man that could not care less for me. I do not wish to be put back to that, Sif. Heed me, please. I am better for this. I want not to return to that ache and pain. The Queen opened my eyes to that. Her lessons have been dispatched and I am no longer blind to them. Do not cast yourself in with my lot. For it is a fallen thing. The sons of Odin will not stand with you if you attempt such a folly." She cast a blank and empty glance over Sif again, and shook her head.
"Take your blade to use in Jotunheim or Asgard's enemies.. Now please, excuse me. I needs must change." She bowed her head, "Safe travels, Lady Sif. May you find comfort in your blade and your good works." She murmured and turned to leave.