1963-10-12 - Our Day Will Come
Summary: A diplomatic embassy to Nornheim doesn't turn out quite as planned.
Related: Sweet Dreams Aren't Made of These
Theme Song: Ends of the Earth - Lord Huron
sif rogue thor 

Note: Karnilla is played by Rogue.

The day begins anew, though now the sun rises a little higher in the clear skies as time marches on. Cooler days are ahead now, and Thor steps in from the back yard into the kitchen, eyes only now for the coffee pot that is disappointingly silent for the time being. Shrugging off the Midgardian jacket, he tosses it upon the back of the chair before he moves the final few feet to stare at the contraption that stubbornly refuses to give up its dark richness.

"Oh.." and Thor looks disappointed. "Has Hilde not yet arrived?" The house in the city probably has coffee. In fact, he's willing to bet that it does! And here… here he is without!


Sif was up to her regular. Picking through random boxes gifted to her through the servants that came and left, never returning. Hilda had been by yes, with mead and various foods from the banquet that were hosted at the Asgardian Embassy here on Midgard, to which Sif ate whenever she could, cold of course, because how do you work this mechanical monstrosity?

There was a little glower upon her features as she looks up to where Thor had entered, she.. Sif, dressed in a flowing dress and a nice tunic shirt, reminiscent of Scarlett's own wear of glam and shimmer. Though, her hair was down, getting longer by the moments she's lived.. and lived in the past few days she has.

"Nay.." She mutters, smacking a box closed to shift to the side and to pull up another. It was torn open with her bare hands, peeked through, and a.. wire whisk pulled out to wave in Thor's direction. "Perhaps when she comes she could tell me what to do with.." And then she gets an idea. And positively grins at Thor.


Thor turns about, catching first notice of the residence's actual owner, and he opens his mouth to make comment before he closes it again. Dress? Sif? Like… a dress. "Have you been called into the court of the All-Father, and prepare for it here?" Okay, how about 'You look nice'?

The whisk, when brandished, gains a laugh from him, and he steps back, hands rising, feigning surrender. "Anything in your hands… is that for cooking?" Thor takes a step forward again, holding out his hand, "What does one actually do with such a thing?"


"No?" Sif asks, her eyes owlish. "Though I do suppose the All-Father has forgotten to inquire about my request to leave the cadre.." Her shoulders lift in a faint shrug, but she does rise up, one bare foot pressed forward with the intent to strike towards Thor as if he were a mighty foe.

"I have some idea what this is for!" She says, approaching. "The metal itself is thin, squeezable." She steps closer, one hand lifted above her head, ready to fence. "There is a loop at the bottom here, for hanging.." She jabs at the air near him, quick steps forward. "I believe it is for the sink." She says with a little hint of certainty. "Though.. it's possible its for hair.." She stops her mock-fence, gripping a bit of her dark locks to wrap around the body of the whisk. "Perhaps it's decoration as well. Come. Let me see your hair."


Brows rise and his hands fall to his side, and for a moment, Thor looks as if a stone troll hit him square in the chest and he'd had no chance to ready for such a blow, much less parry. "Tell me that is still not on your mind," and there is an honest concern in his tones. "I.."

Speechless, and in an attempt to recover, Thor moves such that he's got the optimal distance between. He knows full well that she can close and attack with ease, but in that dress? One that she'd picked specifically (because since when does Sif leave anything to chance?)? "Was it in a box marked 'kitchen'? Hilde would not due such a thing in jest… would she?"

Thor moves, spins around before he's got a chair between them now, and brows quirk, "My hair? There is naught wrong with mine. I had a bath drawn not three days ago."


"I haven't thought about it since our arrival here.." Sif admits. "..I've long forgotten my request until you've brought it up the night in the park." Though, now things were becoming a little bit clear. Was their union the reason as to why he wished to attend her meeting with the All-Father?

But even still, he dodges her with ease, and though she curls the whisk around her dark hair, her foot lifts to plant upon the chair as she slowly rises to tower above him, both hands free now, whisk tangled within her dark, coal locks.

"Three days ago?! My man are you mad!"

No word or warning, Sif hops from the chair, attempting to ensnare him with just that simple leap, arms around his neck even though his face may be implanted upon her belly. "No wonder! No wonder indeed! I thought Frack had managed to find a makeshift entry but t'was you all along!"

Thor was her stinky.


Relief is plain to see upon Thor's face at Sif's statement. The full range of emotions plays upon his face until that final emotion comes to rest. Then she won't leave his side! Bless the Thunderer's heart, it does take him those few moments for everything to trickle down, but when it finally does? A barked laugh exits the man, and he's obviously heartened. "Good! Then you shall be at my side when we visit Nornheim this day and speak with her queen."


Thor watches as Sif makes the attempt to twirl her hair 'round the contraption, and yelps with a laugh as she embraces him. Would that he could now die a happy man and land in the walls of Valhalla? A muffled 'Sif' sounds from just below her bosom, and when he can, he rocks his head back blue eyes gleaming. "What?" Once again, he has to let that sink in before, "I.. It's not that bad. I do not smell like a goat!" He can't help himself laughing, however, "If it offends you, then I will have someone draw one for me now." Servants are good for that, remember?


Death by whisk mauling or abdominal compression therapy does not generally permit one into the sacred halls of the dead. Mostly because the Valkyries refuse to appear, and Hela is stuck behind winged horse traffic while they laugh uncontrollably.


"Nornheim? What?"

Despite Thor being smuggled and nearly squelched to death within her flesh. Sif holds him there for a time, easing up with a lean backward and a placement of legs that wrap around his waist as if it fits. A little hunker down, here.. and she's fit to be carried through the house or to the bath-chambers, which.. at this point in time, where they both need be. Mostly because of Thor.


"You smell as if you rolled in a sea of fifty men in the sweltering son, my heart." She was kidding, it wasn't -that- bad, but he could be better. "But it is you. And I shall treasure the stink of the Thunderer.." There was a slight crackle of her snorting. "Come, carry me to the baths. I will draw it for you."

With all of that said, she brings the Nornheim issue to life again. "I contemplated going on my own. Whilst I am beholden to the All-Father's decree, I believe she has done something to Amora that.." How could she explain it. "She is not herself. Devoid of all things feeling. Tis a death. And whilst I was dying I made my pledge to her in secret when no one else would at court. And I shall hold to this pledge and see wrongs be made right. But.. why art you going as well?"


Thor grins lopsidedly, giving him a boyish air (mixed with goat), and he moves his hands to either side of her waist to keep her in position. Blue eyes meet blue, and it should be fairly obvious that he's not really interested in getting clean at this very moment. Another laugh rises and he shakes his head, the words sounding both amused and theatrically hurt, "Stink.. you wound me, Lady Sif. I bet you would much prefer me smelling like a field of flowers or some such. Where is the sword maid that delighted in being drenched with the blood of her enemies?" Sitting on his lap!

He doesn't move quite yet; not with the topic of Nornheim brought up. It is his fault, after all…

"It is not ours to question her reasons or her methods, Sif." Thor sounds serious, the way his tones drop. "We know not the lesson she wishes to teach Amora." He did say he wanted to visit, however.. "But, I would wish to hear her thoughts, to tell us how her charge yet does. I realize it has only been weeks, and within our lives 't'is but nothing…" and Thor shrugs his shoulders. He draws back his head to look at Sif again, brows rising and his head cants, "Why would you pledge to her?" Dying? What?


Sif was there! Being held by him, though.. she does not bring up his stink again. This subject was all too personal, so much so that she slowly allows her legs to crawl down his own and to the floor to regain her own footing. It was clear that it was a sore subject. Very sore. She dislodges from him, a few steps taken back to settle down upon the chair that she so effortlessly leaped from.

"Remember, love. T'was the day that I asked you of Crystalia. T'was the day that I did announce that I wanted to leave the cadre. T'was the day that I thought to myself to never see your face again." Sif's hand lifts, pressing against her cheek to rub softly. Troubled, no less. Troubled and vacant.

"I knew of her heartbreak. I felt it. I kept it wrapped, tied with a bow. Tried to distract myself, tried to do all I could to forget you. But she? She wore her heart upon her sleeve. She was brave where I could not be. A lady sentry. Stoned and cold.." She inhales, then rolls her shoulders.

"So, I pledged to be her sword. I pledged to protect her because she did what I could not. I pledged to be her defender. And I did so in hopes that I would die." She frowns then, slowly standing. "Tis why I am going. I know that it is not ours to question, to pry, to voice. Tis not -Yours- to break an oath between the Norn Queen and Lady Amora.. But aye. Honor bound am I."


Thor sits there for a long moment in silence, dropping his hands as she disengages from him and rises. He follows her rise, but it's off to the side, to the counter where she settles back into a seat. His head hangs, hair obscuring some of his face as he listens, and slowly his head shakes. He doesn't want to listen, doesn't wish to hear, and most definitely won't give voice to the questions that now rise in the silence between them.

"She would have caused our land to suffer; she used spells so that I would lay with her at the bonfire, and you pledged your sword? Is she, then, the one that directs your sword? Because that is what I hear, Sif." Thor raises his head, and he looks momentarily lost. "Honor bound. Bound to protect a woman who would not only have cause Asgard ill, but me." He shakes his head again and turns about, his hands resting upon the countertop.

"If you go alone to Nornheim, I cannot guarantee your safety. Yet I cannot allow any harm to come to you. But I have to ask," and still, he doesn't turn around. He speaks as if he's talking to that contraption called a coffee pot, "Who holds your allegiance?"


"Scorned I was." Sif counters. "And as she. Distraught. Yes, she would have caused our lands to suffer but when has it not?" Sif asks in earnest. "Is it so wrong that I have that much belief in you, that much faith that even if the last star within the sky were to fall, that you would catch it and hang it upon the landscape where no other could?" She shakes her head a little. "And where are you now? For does anyone believe in you more than I?" She falters a little, then leans forward to cover her face.

Her head shakes faintly, covered still. "I know the answer." She says. "My heart says you. My word, honor and faith says you." She states. "If I were in her shoes at this very moment, that -day- that I held that sword to your bosom, if I had attempted to cut your heart from your chest would I receive the same treatment as she?" She asks.

But she does stand, a simple step that takes her to stand in front of Thor, and another to close the gap of where she leans against him so, trembling by a breath, a tremble one couldn't see but feel.

"Then what shall we do?"


Thor closes his eyes, his head hanging as he listens to Sif's words; he doesn't want anything to come between them and him, so even his breathing is stilled. He turns to look at her, finally, and as she approaches, he watches her. Every move, every muscle.. he has seen her and heard her almost every day of his life since childhood, and still even now, she's a mystery.

"I would have no control over what would have happened. It has always been within the All-Father's control. Tell me.. if it was you that I had pledged my troth to at that fire and still she behaved that way, using her magic to will me away so I would bed her before your eyes, what would you have done? Would you have begged for mercy for her as a spurned heart?"

As she leans upon him, though, Thor wraps his arms about her, holding the dress-bedraped warrior. "Find your armor and I shall have mine, and we shall pay a visit to Nornheim. I will find reason enough to inquire." Ducking his head so he can see her face, he leans in to kiss her on the forehead, "Your sword is ever for Asgard," he whispers.


"You would have been free of her.." Sif says with certainty. Sif, the lady warrior, possibly would have stricken down Amora with the swiftness that a God of War would have provided her. Of that she was sure.

But the situation was more than that, and even still, her convictions were true. "Yes." She states completely. "Because I know love now. I know the cuts that it could bear. I know the damage that it could do. Love.. in all its forms.. can carry the weight of eons, and could tear down the nine realms in a single blow."

She sighs then, leaning forward to press her head against his, her nose briefly brushing against his own in a nod. "My sword is ever for you as well. Never forget that, Thunderer. We shall dress. After a much needed bath and relief of this weight."

She steps away to show how she slumps, how heavy those shoulders are.. "Right here.." She points right at the crook of her neck, and then the back of her.. "And there.. oh great crowned prince.. I feel faint!" And then she laughs.


Thor stays close and holds Sif loosely, allowing her to leave his side should she desire it. "I know you would hold no patience for such a thing," is murmured. Just as he'd hoped, honestly. It wasn't so much the act that had the Thunderer more than a little mad; it was the lack of choice given, and the disrespect offered the one whom he had declared himself with. (Though any coupling, he much prefers behind closed doors…)

Thor smiles at the nose to nose touch, and it broadens at her words, "I will accept your sword, my Lady Sif. With thanks."

Finally, Sif slips through his hands, and the show that begins brings a laugh forth, blue eyes echoing the mirth. "Are you able to walk, my lady? Do you need aid? If so, I will rise," and at the words, he does gain his feet and take steps forward, ready to scoop her into his arms, "and take you where you wish." And then… bath. Goats.

Could be minutes.. could be hours.. but the once less than clean Thor Odinson is dressed in his best armor, but armor all the same, shoulder length blond hair straight and drying. Rather than set aside somewhere, Mjolnir is hanging from his side, more than ready to be used should that time come. It's all the last minute preparations that take the longest..


Nornheim may count among the smallest of the realms attached to mighty Yggdrasil, the world ash. A realm within a realm, the fiefdom carved out as the sacred domain of the three sisters is a place well-watered by the rivers of the otherworld. Autumn walks and paints sparingly among dells populated by mysteries and secrets. The roots of the world tree pierce its borders, drawn close to the vibrations of the weavers forever bound in their task as they will be through Ragnarok and into the ages to come. Mountains crowned in white ice and enchanted forests swathe a land of extremes, beauteous but severe, fertile but unforgiving for those who take it for granted.

The same might be said of its people.

Entry comes upon a tilled path dressed in loose stones, ballast against the prismatic force of the Bifrost or other potential intrusions. Twilight bends itself to envelope the clearing, stars peering through the burnished skies and shadows stretching under long boughs knitted together. Karnilla keeps her palace separate from the Norns, who are as good as unapproachable without their consent - and tacitly hers, anyways. The approach laces natural elements to effigies of the natural, stone columns and graceful soaring arches meeting together in a hall set by narrower spires and glimmering bronze light coming through the quatrefoil windows. It's worthless to assume familiarity; the place's layout changes to suit the whims of its nigh immortal mistress.

Guards flank the shallow steps leading inside, and clematis, royal purple ivy, and grapevine shroud many of the vertical surfaces, lending splashes of violet to the natural décor. The guards themselves are Asgardian or Nornheimjar; the differences are fleeting, at a glance.


Relaxation. If anyone could hold the lady's tongue it would be the Thunderer. A bath and simple quiet words and other things were needed, and travel was set to Nornheim at first, hands held. Shoulders leaned upon. Soft words whispered in the ear. Intimacy. (Or, however they traveled, if it was in a blink of an eye, Thor'd be suffered with a smooch and a tug of his hair.)

Though through the approach, Sif remained a silent woman. Hand upon the sword. Shield upon her back. Straight backed, that is. Pony tailed hair and a vacant look yet ever watchful. And then a tiniest bit of a smirk. "Do you remember when we were children.." She asks quietly. "..you saved me." From this place. From Karnilla.

With that said, it was already agreed upon that Thor himself would do the talking. He was more diplomatic than she.


Scary when the Thunderer is the one who is more diplomatic! Whispers upon their journey, the quietest of conversations and confidences given and taken, "I recall. You swore I would break my neck when we jumped the three stories..", and when all needs to be put aside, Thor looks very much the Crown Prince of Asgard as he makes his path upon the grounds of Nornheim. He's not sneaking in; not pretending that he is anything but that who he truly is.

"I would seek audience with your Queen.. and have her know that Prince Thor Odinson and the Lady Sif are present." As if Karnilla didn't know that they'd arrived?


Silver mail, leather, the distinctive stamp of serpentine patterns that speak to the Fates: these reflections throw back images in likeness, distorted shapes, twisted prince and ladyship. One of the guards nods, and retreats inside the doors opening on pivoting hinges to the slightest touches. It may well be unnecessary; she is as much sovereign over Nornheim as Odin is Asgard, and hidden wards buried among the wide gardens shaped to likeness of natural creation have already absorbed the transmission of two outsiders.

The wait should be short at the very least, for another three servants dressed in similar plum and silver attire step forth. Two Asgardians, one ljosalf; males and female. It's one of the men who bows first, and says, "The Queen bids you welcome, your highness and ladyship. We offer escort to the outer gardens."

They wait, as is polite, fanned out on the steps to show the route along a circuitous path glittering like sea glass and pearls, weaving through an arch of locusts and tulip trees gone fiery to the odd seasonal effects here, and a carpet of grape poppies takes over shortly thereafter as the oasis of drifting plants around several deep benches opens. There waits the Norn Queen, unattended, holding a goblet.


"Yes.." Sif murmurs quietly. And then nothing there after.

As was her duty to the Crowned Prince, she remained at his right. There was no hint of malice, anger, or aggression within her form. Only bound by duty is her stance as she walks beside him, and it is careful. Her eyes, while appreciative of the sights, held no emotion save for caution. Anyone who is smart would know that there were secrets to other realms visited that most know none of unless heard by rumor, or possibly felt. Though.. dead men tell no tales; Sif thinks. And her thinking is done.

With a light bow of her head, fist to chest, she follows. Pace to the right. A slight step back. A look back and around to scan for exits. Though, her hand upon the hilt of her sword again is a blessing. It steels the nerves as much as the quiet murmurings of earlier had done before.


When allowed, Thor's approach is more… regal. There's an air about the Crown Prince; an assuredness that even if he doesn't feel, it has become ingrained via training. Stopping before they reach the dais, Thor lifts his hand to cross his chest and lift it to his heart while he inclines his head in a bow. "Your Majesty, I thank you for this opportunity, and I bear greetings." As Odin dislikes being kept waiting AND guessing, the eldest son carries that over, "I have come to ask… to learn from you what it is that my Father saw as more valuable than an exile or dungeon. I would ask him, but his response would have been the same: 'Seek out Queen Karnilla if you truly wish to know'."


Karnilla is many things to many people, a dread figure, an erstwhile ally, a constant thorn in the side. Curling black hair held back by a peaked headdress holds none of the higher formality of her court appearance, and her high-necked damson gown similarly amounts to the borderline between formal and casual. She places the goblet upon a side table hewn from the same pristine white marble, something fit surely to glow in the moonlight if any moon peeks through the sky. The elf girl hastens to her side, dropping into a curtsey. Announcing Thor and Sif is unnecessary for their courtly escorts, a procession of five trailed by the last guard. Whatever happens, his sword is unlikely to make all the difference. The queen flips the cover of her book shut, and listens with a strange blend of indolence and attention mirroring every cat in existence.

So too the faint smile. She sits up, and gestures to the benches. "The hospitality of Nornheim be thine," she says, getting that formality out of the way. "Join me. The dreamwine is matured, and the mead captures the very essence of summer." Both attendants wait upon Sif and Thor, if they want something to drink. Her own goblet is untouched. "Is my intervention so incomprehensible? I dislike unnecessary waste. I offered the All-father a better solution than exile, which did not fix his problem or change my apprentice's behaviour."


Silent still, Sif only moves when need be. Need be and stops. She does not take a seat even if it wasn't offered, but she does allow a small smile and a slight bow of her head.

"Dear Karnilla.." Her voice was soft. Not threatening. Careful. She had all the relaxation in the world and promised. Goddamn it she promised, even though she wanted to release that sword hilt to slam her hand upon the table and.. throw things. Fierce. But, she doesn't.

The smile itself was a form of an Asgardian 'woosaaa'.

"If the Crowned Prince allows, I shall have a bit of dreamwine, but for now, I decline, aye. I am on duty." And a wink. Another Asgardian woosa. The last statement? She was -not- going to reply to.


Once acknowledged, and responses given, Thor straightens from his bow, and his eyes linger upon the Norn Queen. Inclining his head, the Crown Prince of Asgard approaches, a murmured request for mead given to a servant, and once he's given it, waits for Sif, giving her a quick wink before he sits upon the proffered bench.

"It is not, your majesty. I appreciate your timeliness in arriving to take care of a problem," Thor begins again, his voice a rumble, "but we have had cause to see her upon Midgard, and she is causing great concern to those who have known her these many years." A tentative sip is given to the mead before a larger swallow. (Mead is not to be sipped!) "While I understand her punishment is due; to threaten Asgard itself, even in a fit of emotion, is inexcusable, I would ask by what method is she learning? She is, by all accounts, a stranger to all emotion now."


Questions are given space to be asked. Karnilla doesn't recline but bracing her arm on the bench's, she can maintain a position drawing a slight supine curve. Her long skirts pool around her feet, revealing an underlayer stitched with runes so fine they simply look like Asgardian knotwork, or interlocking circles. The servants snap to attention to offer drinks, and she smiles when mead and dreamwine are brought. A delicate gesture banishes all but the Asgardian who spoke to them, and he busies himself by walking among the outer paths of the gardens. Here fragrant herbs and plants offer more than a visual experience, chosen as much for their variegated foliage as scent.

"Mine apprentice's indiscreet actions tarnished her reputation dearly. Her negligence that night shook Asgard to its core. On that we agree." The Norn Queen presses her lips together, banishing the echoes of the memory. She takes her glass up and salutes them both with a toast, then drinks its contents in a healthy sip. "Such failure comes from uncontrolled emotions and passions, not inattention or altered perceptions due to a curse. You need be not a sorcerer to know control of magic follows control over ourselves. A mage at odds with herself is unsafe to be around. Rage, despair, and unrequited love fueled my apprentice, who had much power and no discretion. Sooner or later, she would let her emotions explode and her magic with it." She lets the gravity of those words sink in before continuing, giving confirmation perhaps to an unasked question.

"I was her tutor once. She has ability but limited control, and her emotions were consuming her. How could I allow such potential permanently destroyed?"

There was no need to wait for Sif; Sif will remain uninhibited during their visit with the Norn Queen. Even though each and every inkling of her screams to snatch the cup from Thor's hand to drown everything out with the taste, she keeps her gaze forward with a step side to stand next to the Crowned Prince upon this diplomatic meeting.

As his guard, silence was due. As was the promise to allow Thor to do all of the speaking and herself to remain silent and supportive. Though points were made, Sif carries a neutral expression upon her features as she continues to study the surroundings with barely a movement a'tall.


Thor listens carefully, nodding his head, his expression intent upon the nuances that may appear there. As the underlying statement regarding emotion is made, he glances back at Sif for a moment before he returns to make answer as best he can. "If she missed her emotions, it would be a fitting punishment, your Majesty," he begins carefully. "If there was aught to learn from their absence. But there isn't. There is no sorrow in their departure, no worry for when they shall be restored to her. As such, then, is someone who is not kept in check by emotion more dangerous? There would be no remorse, no worry, no ability to judge upon their feelings."

The glass is drained in a single draught once the nonsense of tasting it is done. "She feels not and she cares not. With respect, I would ask that another path be chosen?"


Bobbing lights illuminate the autumn garden, softening the shadows to bruised shades upon the variegated amethyst and deep hunter green foliage. Careful cultivation of trees and flowering vines on trellises blot out the view, for the most part, of the palace almost within arm's reach. It is entirely possible to imagine being far from any other beings, guests to an enchanted glade sipping dreamwine and mead. Karnilla does not indulge movement, unnecessary to recline further or straighten up from her supine position among the cushions supporting her. "The hospitality of mine hall is yours, my lady and your highness. I am not about to castigate you with a sharp tongue for speaking your concerns about her. Certainly might our worlds be different had it happened more frequently in the past," she says. A faint smile forms, blown away in moments.

"Amora has not oft considered the results of her actions. Aye, an irony given I am the Norn Queen. Very little checked her in the past but her own amusement or hopes of netting you. Where has that led her when her affections were unreturned and her diversions simply to escape ennui and boredom? Removed of the same impulses, she is left for a brief time to view her own actions at the pitiless remove where there can be no excuses. She sees the cause, she sees the effect. It is a necessary if unpleasant stage before she comes to accept her responsibility. That connection has been stunted in her before, and it has never been my intent to keep her as little better than a sentient sculpture in my garden. Be assured, your highness, mine apprentice does not walk Midgard unchecked nor unnoticed. She will not appreciate a cage, even one vast and varied as mine beloved realm." A gesture swept by the glass draws an oval about them.


The place was filled with a certain beauty that one could only witness in the most surprising of places. Sif's eyes roam as the Queen's arm sweeps out, a smile put upon her as she bows her head in light respect. "You are too kind, Queen Karnilla." Though the words were quelled in an instant, her eyes soon staring off into the distance, her body at a slight shift as she keeps her arms still and nature aloof. There was obvious work at play behind those eyes, so much so that a hand reaches out to draw upon the shoulder of Thor in a brief squeeze, and a swipe of a removal of a faux leaflet or bug that may (or could have) touched his shoulder.


"That is just it, your Majesty.. from all accounts, there is acceptance not only of the fact that she is now without emotion, but she has been left without it completely that she misses it not. Nor does she even give service to the same. Whether it is resignation or an effect of the punishment, I know not. But now, with no emotion to guide her, she is free to do as she pleases with a coldness that few possess. At least with emotion, there can be something offered in counterpoint, whether it is love, friendship, fear or humor. At the moment, she has none of these." Thor raises a hand to touch Sif's own in response to her contact, rocking his head back so he can see her face before he reattends that which is before him.

"I have little fear that she will disrupt Midgard; her powers are whittled away to be of little use against even the barest of those who claim to use magic." Which may or may not be true- what does he know from magic?! "It is the understanding of what -can- be, should anything change that concerns me. The All-Father has also noticed a lack of remorse simply because there is no ability to feel such a thing, but his patience continues." In other words? He has faith… but Odin's patience is notoriously short.

Rising now, Thor bows, his hand rising as a fist to lie across his chest, covering his heart. "I will not take up more of your time. I do thank you for hearing my concern."


"Your concern is indeed noted." Karnilla allows that, churning the contents of the glass by tilting it this way and that. "I know of her troubled soul, darkness stirred throughout the deep corners of her being. Be of stout heart a moment, and bide you both a moment." Her thumb circles around her index finger, leaving a faint curve of dusted light following it. "Before this day, did she speak to you about her will that I never return her to your company? For Amora did implore of me to banish her forever from your sight, and that she never need to return to Asgard to be pet or disgraced."

Contrition is not visible in the woman's dark eyes, though a vast knowledge hovers there for a moment. It's not always pleasant to stare into a seer's eyes. The Norn Queen gestures. "She would be not satisfied remaining here or anywhere less than the highest throne. That was very much spoken as her soul's desire. So 'ere you judge me too hastily or the All-Father demand what madness I undertake, know my apprentice harbours the capacity for many a bitter future. Light and careful actions are necessary now, to avert a reign of revenge in her."


Her eyes slowly peel itself from the very walls that lay within the distance, glancing down in that moment to the tops of Thor's head, the jawline that sets itself to speak as he nearly mimics the shadow of the quiet plea that she once put upon him. It was uncontrollable for a moment, the way her features dissolve into softness, how he puts words to voice that has her lips parting to speak with inspiration and a fiery passion that.. sadly.. remains in. There was a promise she made after all. She'll see to it that it was upheld.

As Thor stands to cross his arm over his chest in salute, Sif follows suit there after.

It was an easy maneuver, to strategically put herself in front of Thor to create a path in which he should turn so that they could depart, her back towards the Queen, close to the Crowned Prince so much that she could look up towards him and offer the smallest of smiles even though Karnilla asks her question to put his wits to the test.

An attempt at being reassuring, she was, in such a serious moment, one eye lowers into a slight squint as her lips purse and pucker, parting to allow her tongue to stick out to show that -she- was at ease. But ready. Ready for what? That may yet to be seen.


"She has never spoken of a desire to the throne, Majesty. And in that, might I remind you that Nornheim, while residing in peace with Asgard, holds the seers that look into the darkness of what may be as surely as Heimdall can see what is. She may not speak of the throne of Asgard, but your own." Thor's response is slow, his words come softly and with a great earnestness. "It is thus that she can have both her desires at the same time. Would you say now that it is easier to defeat a creature born of emotion rather than one of cold calculation?"

Thor inclines his head in respectful gesture, "Of course Asgard would not allow that to come to pass."

Eyes of blue pass back to the Sword Maid, his Sword Maid, his right hand now in almost all things and there his gaze lingers for a passage of heartbeats. Thor looks back to Karnilla before, "While she remains so, there are those that pity her position, and there is the potential they could be used without realizing such a thing is happening."


The Norn Queen shakes her head. "She spoke thus, your highness, that she does not seek a lesser throne than that of golden Asgard. Mine apprentice would not be left in obscurity on a chain, either. The outcome she seeks will not occur and, does she force it, of course Nornheim honours its commitments." Tit for tat, there. She slides up to turn the cup upside down and pour out the dregs on one of the flowers, rather than leaving it for some poor servant to scour out.

"What great ironies there are revealed before us. All this suspense hangs upon her choices. She knows if she wants to be as she was, she need only sincerely think that. And she will be." Karnilla looks between the two of them. "Any knave using mine apprentice as a tool will find me rather cross. So it will be. Is there aught else you need? I foresee a growing need to be upon Midgard. Yon borders crumble under a shadow."


Silence still. Forever still. Up until the moment the wine was spilt and no further words nor action need be taken. Sif, in a show of urging and affection, lifts to draw a light press of her hand into the middle of his breastplate.

"Come.. my Prince. Our time here has come at a pass."

If he would let her, she would guide him by that light touch of her own, a simple step forward as well to mark the path that she faces for their exit. It was a long road indeed. Diplomatic ventures. It tires even her.


"Any that uses Amora for ill will wish they had not," Thor rumbles. He inclines his head in acknowledgment, returning, "I know that Midgard is currently in view of several realms. My brother Loki holds sway there and protects that Realm such that no other Realm may have a hold. He holds it by command of the All-Father, and those who would attempt to cross into it should be well warned."

Once again, Thor inclines his head and his fist rises to cover his chest at his heart. "Duty calls, once again, your Majesty." With that, he will take Sif's lead in the departure. Diplomacy.. he'll have words with Odin one day about this!

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