1964-11-18 - My Bonny Scots Callan
Summary: Sif and Kai spend the afternoon in Scotland.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
kai sif 


Edinburgh in 1964 is a lot different than it was in 1745, but Kai remembers some of the old paths that have been turned into streets, and there are still some familiar landmarks. They've crumbled, and they're historical sites now, but Kai remembers when they were brand new. He leads Sif down a street by the hand and tells her, "This used to be countryside. I hope the place I'm looking for is still there.

And there it is, a churchyard attached to what's now a cemetery. Leaning up against the building are dozens of old gravestones that have been removed from their graves and stacked to make room. Probably for more bodies. "This is it!" Kai says, and he pays no heed to whether or not he's allowed to be there. In his mind, the place is his


Sif had been here, long ago, but it was enough to use the bifrost to carry them hence. As far as Sif was concerned she had the sword so she made the rules. In they went. Besides, the rest was what diplomacy was for right? Surely no one would mind! She walked with ehr almost-nephew and looked around. "What is here that we are looking for, Kai?"


Kai looks around, and he walks to a place in the middle, in the shade of a massive tree. "It was a sapling, do you remember?" He crouches, tracing his fingers along the ground. He's quiet for a time, then he says, "His name was Alistair McCleod. He was a bonny weaver boy." He smiles faintly. "We were inseparable while we were young, but as he aged and I didn't, he left me." That small, sad smile remains. "When he was old and decrepit, after the uprisings, he had no one to look after him, so I did. I fed him, checked on him, made sure he was comfortable. I held his hand as he died an old man." He sniffles. "My first love."


Sif was somber listening to the take, though she had little mealoncholy on teh matter. It wasn't her memory, but she respected it. She squint a the area realizing how much time here had passed and that for them, did not. The tree was much, much bigger now. "There will always be those that arrest our hearts in wonder, Kai. Hail then to these open halls and hail to teh glorious dead." She watched the young man hang laurels on his memory and offered, "You should do something to herald his name."


"He fought in the uprising," Kai says. "When he was a younger man and I worried each day he wouldn't come home." He traces his fingertips along the ground. "I bet he's not even bones anymore, that he's become the grass and flowers." He takes from his jacket a small square of fabric. Some might recognize the pattern as the tartan of Clan McCleod. He lays it on the ground and puts a small stone over it to keep it in place. "I should paint him," Kai says. I remember every line of his face and the way his red hair shone in the sun." A tear rolls down his cheek, but he ignores it, instead looking up at Sif. "I'll paint him. He'll live again on canvas, when he was young and we were in love."


A hand went out and squeezed Kai's shoulder, but the voice of War was quiet taking the memory and committing it to her own. Then we respect him as a warrior, as a friend, as a lover, as loved. If there is a place I can take you to do this let me know. It is perhaps a good time for us to remember those we have lost that brought us to where we now are."


Kai rises to his feet, and he hugs Sif. "I know just the place. It's where his shop used to be, but it's a cafe now. I say we have lunch there and buy a ton of tacky souvenirs. We put some on his grave and keep the rest. I'll get a McCleod pin." He smiles up at Sif. "I knew I could count on you to know what to do. I've been so mixed up lately."


Sif hugged the aelf tightly. What was it with warriors that the had to do everything fiercly. An argument could be made if one could not have passion they could not do war. "Well," she said with certainty, "I liked this one." This one didn't maim her out of spite and amusement. "If collecting tiny figures will bring him honour than that is what we shall do. I like it here. Everything is at least of a more acceptable size." The problem with midgard was everyone was built itty bitty.


"It used to be so much smaller," Kai says as he draws away, though he still stays close to Sif's side. Even as a child, with those huge blue eyes and an angelic countenance, he gravitated toward the warrior. He kisses his hand and presses it to the ground, then rises and says, "I could eat. Thank you for indulging me. I did love him. I think part of me always will."


Sif let him be for now before placing a hand on teh back of Kai's shoulder as he crouched at the soil. "It is said that the heart is not a vessel, but a path. It can never fill nor empty, but is a path. Memory carries us back the path to those things that make our journey worthwhile. We adorn the route with the smiles and tears shed for those we love to give it colour. Becaue we are here and we remember they are never truly gone. He was the first but not the last you willlove in your life, nor who will love you. They will not be the same nor should they be. Always, though, we carry the fallen with us and do them proud."


Kai nods solemnly to Sif's words. "He was my first love, but not my last. My last…" Kai sighs. "He disappeared for four days without a note, and he said I could just get used to it. Everyone's treating it like it's no big deal, but I've got to deal with this new knowledge that he doesn't care about how I feel at all. But we're bonded." He lifts a hand to Sif to show her the string tied round his wrist. A romantic claim, perhaps.


Sif squint to Kai and her jaw tightened. There was no love lost between she and Loki but still there was th element of fair. "For all historical account I do believe I was chief of those that spoke out against him. However, his behaviour should come as no shock or new news. It is quite as likely it is deliberate to try to force you away to see if you will go or with him remain." She condiered the game of it carefully and said, with all care in her tone, "I'd stab him." Probably not the most helpful advice.


"I've considered it," Kai admits. "Instead, I've come here without telling him. Maybe he can just get used to that." Petty, but Kai doesn't seem to be above such things. "If he wants to test me, I'll test him back." He sighs, and he takes Sif by the hand, leading the way from the graveyard. Seems weird to talk about the current beau in front of the ex. "When I died…" He died? "Loki led a group of gods and heroes to win me back from the Underworld because he couldn't bear to lose me. There's good in him. But this taking for granted,, I don't care for it."


Sif died. She got these things. Taking the words to heart she offered gently, "While it is not to your liking wit is a harbnger of inconsistancies you have bound yourself to. For one this is why I have bound myself to another; if their whims are not mine and we cannot handle distance there will be only sorrow. I do not wish that. Still, time is not a destroyer of things. Alistair can prove that to you." Kai was, after everything, still back.


Kai nods to Sif's words. "I just need to work out my sorrow in my own way," Kai says. "I can share it with you. I can't share it with him, especially when he's the cause. The four days I can forgive. Telling me to get used to it, like I have no say…" His chin juts. "People say 'well that's who you bound yourself to,' but I am entitled to my dignity. He'll learn that, or he'll lose me." He smiles a little. "I'm not a blind fool, and I don't put up with much."


Sif held up her hands in a peacable gesture. "Your forrays into the heart are far more candid than my own. Had I advice it would be yours but good. You are finding your path and finding yourself in the process. Suffice to say his actions cause grief. Using his actions against him teach not love nor rationale, but more grief. Tread cautiously with your approach so you are not flanked by the unforseen." Dark eyes returned to teh landscape surround as the wind bit through the air. "He does not earn such consideration from me, but you do Kai. I delight not in seeing you in a state of disquiet."


"I came here for grief," Kai admits, bowing his head. "I never grieved Alistair properly, and I owe it to him. I don't really want to teach him a lesson, but I didn't want to tell him I was coming because if he came too, it would be weird, yeah? Anyway, I'll have a good cry over Alistair, and I'll feel a lot better. I'll have my mementos." He smiles at her, then the smile dims. "He died on the Bifrost, the one who did evil. He is reborn, a younger and more innocent Loki. Maybe you will see the goodness in him."


Sif gave Kai's shoulder a squeeze. "Should I ever return to my first home perhaps you can repay the favour at that. Now! Mourning on our tradition in Asgard? We tell the best stories we have of them and boast of them proudly. Most often done over drink and a meal. Come, we will do this and you can tell me of his wonders." She chilled a bit at the mention of Loki being NEW Loki, now wihth fortified vitamins she remained skeptical but didn't opt to correct him. Action would prove if this was so.


Kai grins. "Forget the cafe. Let's go to a pub. I know this Midgard drink is like water, but it's the thought that count. He's content to let his words about Loki stand. Action would indeed prove if it was so. As he leads the way toward a pub (not hard to find pubs in Scotland), he says, "Alistair was a weaver and a poet, and all the women wanted him, but he wasn't inclined toward the fair sex. When the Jacobites called for an uprising, he joined them. He fought hard and bravely, even though the cause was lost. All you really need to know about it is there were two men who decided they were kings, and only one could be right. You would've been proud to fight at his side, Sif."


Sif grinned brightly, "Tonight we sing of your kingmaker. Tonight we drink his mead, and inspire others withthe tales of his heroism. We will celebrate all you have loved and earned affection from and pay our respects again." She unsheathed the sword called Morsstryke from it's sheath and extended it in salute over the grave of the forgotten, fallen warrior. "You rest, but dine ye well with us tonight as we raise a flaggon of mead to you and sing of your victories Allistar McCLeod."


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