1963-11-16 - To Blind the Eye
Summary: Sif broaches the topic of her parentage again, this time to ask a favor.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
sif louis 

Louis has partially disconnected.


Much of the morning was spent 'busy'. As busy as one could get. Though there had been a break in festivities where someone cried about their hair, or a broken finger, which left Sif alone to do what she will for a time. So, freshly dressed in a nice robe, hair wet from the baths, large tankard in hand filled with mead as if it were the Midgard delicacy called coffee, she ambles down the stairs, feet dragging as she issues off a loud yawn. Her fingers dig into her dark hair, scratching at her scalp as she moves to the coffee table to peruse the latest news of a fashion.

While aliens still dominated the headlines, it was no different than anything else she's experienced. So with that in mind, she moves through the hallway, idly knocking on walls to get the attention of her could be, soon to be brother in law.


As she descends a curious sound might greet her. It's the sound of a 1962 Smith Corona Streamline typewriter, the keys click-click-clicking as they strike the paper and then there's the occasional *ring* as it reaches the end of the line, then the whir/thwack of it being brought back into line. The click-click-clicking continues.

And, should she choose to investigate in the side study that Loki has claimed as his own, she'll see it is the source of that noise. Behind an old mahogany desk in a comfortable tall-backed chair, sits Loki with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched upon the end of his nose as he lightly tip-taps away on the typewriter, then leans forwards to consider something he had just now written.

Whens he makes her appearance he'll look up over the edge of those glasses, meeting her eyes, and then tells her. "Good morning, Sif."


That was a curious sound, not one that she had not heard of before, but in between these walls?

To say that Loki takes his job as a Professor serious, for she lingered within the doorway for a time, the tankard lifted and sipped upon, watching wordlessly, soundlessly. It looked to be important, and lately? Sif has found herself holding her tongue. For these times are serious, serious indeed.

"Good morning, Loki." She chimes up finally, drawing herself into the study with a fluid motion. The band of the robe was tugged tight, sinching her waist before she decidedly takes a seat, the good morning itself, an invitation.

"Work?" She asks quietly. Not willing to raise her voice above a whisper. There was a glance back towards the door, a slight frown of regret at closing it, her hand lifting to wiggle fingers within that direction. "Do you mind? We've much to discuss."


"In a way," The trickster deity adjusts his glasses and peers at the paper, holding it up with one hand behind the back of the typewriter. "I am preparing notes." He leans forwards and pulls a pencil from his pocket, lightly scribbling a change to one part of the paper before he settles back in his seat. "I am to make a presentation tomorrow and I am giving thought as to what I shall say."

The keys start to click and clatter again even as she tells him that they have much to discuss. He holds up a fingertip to make her wait for him then finishes that particular line of keystrokes before looking back to he. "What is it we must discuss?"



"Preparing notes for what?" Sif asks. She was all too curious about what was going on with the life of an old friend. So much so that she was willing to abandon her own thoughts for the sake of his. "Whilst I've not come to be.. fond of dictation, grammar and the like, I wouldn't mind being an ear for prose."

All serious.

"I've finally come to terms with what I would like from you. The favor. And it is not with a light heart that I ask this of you."


For a moment he considers what he's written, holding the pencil in his mouth thoughtfully even as she speaks. He leans forwards again and makes another small notation, but then when she makes her offer to hear what he's written so far he brushes it off with a small shake of his head. "No it's quite alright, thank you."

But then she goes down that other thread of the conversation, and his attention shifts back to her even as he pulls out the paper from the typewriter. "You actually had some matter you needed seeing to? I thought you were merely using it as a way to torment me with forced acknowledgement of your sexuality and love life."


Sif gives a light shrug of her shoulders. She offered!

Though now that the conversation has switched to something real, not even a joke could stray her from the path that she was going to walk. "I do." She finally murmurs, then gives Loki a slight shake of her head and a roll of her eyes, settling back into her seat, the tankard of mead finally drained as she forces herself to deal with the levity of what she were to ask.

"My love life is the reason as to why I ask this of you." She frowns slightly. "I know that if Thor finds out what I have done, there will be words. I know that he will be upset, and consider this an act against the crown. He cannot know that I ask this of you." She sighs, her heart heavy with guilt. "But, I long to find my parents. It.. there's a hole. And I'll not let anyone stop me from just -knowing-." With that said.

"I wish for you to bind the eyes of my brother and Odin's ravens."


"Sif," Loki holds the piece of paper before him and looks at it for a moment, then sets it aside as if judging that it can wait. He rises from his seat, wearing a fine blue suit with a rather lovely black tie. A step takes him around his desk, letting him lean a hip on it as he digs into a jacket pocket. "I am Lord Protector of Midgard. Do you realize what you ask?"

He produces a cigarette from that pocket and lights it afire with a slight brush of his thumb against the end of it. A drag is taken and then a tendril of smoke wends its way upwards from the corner of his mouth before he speaks again. "Your seeking to hide from the eyes of Asgard would be an admission of guilt if matters turn ill in almost any capacity."

He crosses a leg over and cocks his head to the side as he puffs on the cigarette. "For you to do such is ill-advised, and for me to provide you with this service would be the same for myself as well. What is it you seek to hide from them?" He asks her directly, for really if she is going to ask him of this… she will have to confide in him for true.


"I am aware of what I ask." Sif murmurs quietly. "I've not heard word from Heimdall, as his visage would appear to me as we speak of such a treacherous thing. Know that no war comes to Midgard or the Nine Realms by me asking of this favor."

There was consideration there, the chair itself scooted forward with a few bumps of her hips, the tankard of gone mead was now placed upon the counter top as she considers his words, but Sif shall not be moved.

"Truth?" She asks quietly. "Truth." She says finality. "When we were children and you shorn my hair. I cried for the comfort of my mother. I remember holding her in my arms, small as they were.. and then nothing." She frowns, then. "Nothing."

Her fingers draw against her now drying wet hair, toying with them, her gaze vacant as she lets out a little sigh. "How can I not remember thy mother and father, those whom gave me life. Wiped away my tears. Provided Heimdall with a sister to call his own as well?"

"If there is magic afoot.. none could smell it. If I asked my brother, he will not speak upon it. I mention it to Frigga and she passes the comments by.. I seek to hide my conquest. For if I am to bear heir to your brother and for Asgard, how can I, knowing that.. they may be out there? Possibly suffering, damned.. gone.. Loki, just.. just help me!"

It was a rare thing to see. A tear from the eye of Lady Sif. Adult, now. Not a child. And yet she cries here, strange.


Spreading his hands openly as if to stave off her protests, Loki cocks his head to the side as he tries to reach a level of understanding with her. "Yet you are unable to pursue this openly? You fear some backlash or some negative repercussions for your curiousity?" He pauses a moment and looks upwards to the side, his cigarette hand lowering to rest upon his thigh as the wisp continues to drift upwards.

"I suppose it could be questioned in some capacity, loyalty could be brought to the fore." He looks back to Sif, meeting her eyes. "But this is truly a strong step to take. If I did this, you would disappear from their perception which considering the company you keep would be conspicuous. You would raise suspicions. How much time would you need? What explanation will you offer them when they ask why you were gone from their gaze?"




"Yes. I do. For it is the most curious thing." Her hand lifts, a stray droplet of mead that lingered upon her fingers is rolled, creating a path that slowly wets and widens the skin. "To not remember a face, to not remember a touch or words that set to soothe.." Her eyes watch this transformation, the liquor itself spreading til there was nothing left, her hand soon lowering to dab away the faint liquid into her robe.

But, leave it to him, Loki.. for the possibly hundredth time to give insight to the situation. Wise words, yes. But her heart was unmoved. "I do not know the time that I need, only that I wish to see it through. Four moons, possibly eight at best. I do not know." As to a good reason as to why she would avoid their gaze? She.. didn't know, in which she remained silent. She was stumped.


Her responses, her expressions, perhaps they're ignored for now. For really, Loki's thoughts have already raced past what she has asked and in his mind various pieces are fitting together, how to achieve this thing, what would need to occur, what premise would need to be advanced. His brow furrows even as the ember at the tip of his cigarette slowly devours it.

Merely a moment passes, then he looks back to her and gives a nod. "The providing of such an enchantment for you is feasible, though it is no small undertaking and will extract a price for it to bind to you in full. I mean not what you would owe me, simply that holding such magic to yourself is a risk in and of itself, and for me to provide it to you it would need to take hold in some place of prominence, some important aspect you hold dear to yourself."

He ashes his cigarette out in the tray upon the liquor cart, then he walks back and takes his seat again. "Your blade hand, perhaps your heart." He pushes back that, "As for a premise… I believe… something occurs to me that would provide a usable explanation."


There was a thought, Sif resigned to that stance with a slight frown. She couldn't see any distinction from the heart that beats within her chest, to the hands that hold the blade and shield. She looks down into her grasp, fingers clenching along the robe, releasing again to smooth them along her body as she lets loose a sigh. "I believe it is worth it. Though, time will be required." For once, she was thinking. Analyzing the entire situation. Should she strike out to the nine realms in search of them with Heimdall and others in the knowing, be stopped and condemned from such a quest..

"As long as my heart remains unchanged on how I feel of Thor, then it is worth it." It was troubling, she could see no secrets kept, but this one.. for now is. "I shall discuss with him the matter after it is done. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.. yet I feel that this my draw about that face."

Lightness to the situation here, where she draws herself upright, her face stoic and blank which suddenly scrunches up into something that Thor would do. "This face.." She gestures, a beedy eyed look, her hands waving towards her cheeks. "..and then questions. Lots of questions."


Glancing back at the typewriter, Loki nods to himself as she speaks, his thoughts clearly not entirely here now. But he hears her, though when she finishes speaking it's the silence that perhaps reminds him he has a guest. He looks back to her and waves her off towards the door, "Sif, I have much to do before the evening. I am to be on television, by the bye. Or rather, Louis King is to be."

He steps towards the door with two strides and holds it open for her. "Go, think on your goals, gird yourself to the possibilities I have presented."

A pause, "And if you are brave enough broach the topic to my brother. But for now, leave me."


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