COCK BLOCK
The sun is yet to rise, but the Ivaldi household is awake and brimming with activity. Many of the brothers are already up and working, some having toiled through the night to keep the coals stoked and forges hot. To fulfill the constant onslaught of orders coming in. But most importantly, to outfit our merry band of would-be heroes.
Dressed and ready for combat, Sigyn unlocks and exits her bedroom door to find a plate of food waiting for her on the floor immediately outside. Not the dinner that Loki had deposited the night before, he'd woken early and swapped it out for a fresh bowl of porridge with a big, sweet chunk of honeycomb nested on top. That and the wild blueberries he had picked personally from the bush he'd spied just beyond the kitchen window. An overly sweet gesture. Gallant, even. But not one that finds itself at all appreciated.
With the tip of her boot, Sigyn pushes the dish aside and out of her way as she exits the bedroom. Pretending she doesn't notice the slight tugging on her heartstrings as she looks at the food, the gift, he'd prepared just for her. Or the way her heart skips once her eyes meet with his. Something she'd been trying very hard to avoid upon descending the staircase. A fluttering feeling which is very much shared.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Loki sets about the task of sharpening his weapons. The daggers that Sigyn's Dwarven brothers had fashioned for him. A miracle Thor had granted him the license to wield, but after their little one-on-one brotherly bonding exercise the night before, the Odinson seems to have become a bit more trusting of the Liesmith. Mayhap not the wisest decision. Certainly not the most popular, given Sif's sideways glare. But tis the first step in trying to open up a channel of trust between the two brothers. That and the fact that Loki would have likely just stolen a set of blades, anyhow. Tis not like he needs Thor's permission. Like Hel he would have begun this journey unarmed and with no means to protect himself. Or her.
He'd just finished imbuing his blades with poison, his very own special recipe, when he hears a pair of feet coming down the staircase. Instinctively, Loki looks up. His eyes following the sound to figure out the source. Finding much to his growing nerves and excitement, tis Sigyn belonging to such feather-light footsteps.
Like deer caught in torchlight, the pair freeze right up. Unable to move or think or speak. Just staring at one another. The longest she's even looked at him since the wedding. Which causes Loki's chest to tighten. His heart to jump in leaps and bounds. He smiles at her. Small and timid, but true. But she looks the other way.
Finally catching her wits about her, Sigyn turns and heads for the door in search of one of her brothers. Her features cold and emotionless. Pretending as if the moment between them hadn't happened at all.
As does Loki return his attention to his blades. Cleaning up his supplies and stashing his weapons inside the pockets sewn into his green, leather tunic. Muttering beneath his breath at his stupidity. For choking when he should have acted. Tis a new day, after all, and he's bent to win her back. He must.
From the pantry, Lady Sif watches the whole exchange as she fills her pack with provisions. As can Loki feel her beady judging eyes upon his back.
"Should you have anything to say, Sif. Please... Don't hold back on my account." Loki says with his back still towards her.
He can hear the swish of her ponytail cutting through the air as she abruptly turns on her heels to leave.
"You're deplorable." The Lady hisses on her way as she passes, off to seek out Volstagg for another pack.
"Always a pleasure speaking with you!" Loki calls after.
And then he's alone again. A feeling he used to very much enjoy. But now...
With a huff, Loki rises from his seat and grabs the long, leather jacket draped over the back of his chair. Putting it on as he heads to find the rest of their crew.
Hogun's out in the barn, securing the horses. Volstagg is about, having a laugh and talking shop with one of the Dwarves. Thor's down below, getting fitted for a new metal breastplate and armor. Sif's filling yet another pack with provisions and supplies. Which leaves only Fandral unaccounted for. Primping in a mirror somewhere, no doubt. Loki need not know what that swashbuckler is up to this early in the morning, locked inside the wash closet.
In boredom, Loki travels from room to room. Not that he plans on making himself useful to the 'team', but he has nothing better to do than to waste his time before they take this show on the road.
Shoving his hands in his coat pockets, Loki stops at a bookshelf, teetering back and forth on his heels as he peruses the shelves of knickknacks and oddities and the like. He lifts a little wooden boat from one such shelf when suddenly, he hears Sigyn's voice carry over from just the other room next door, thus piquing his curiosity. Standing in place, Loki leans backwards as far as he can without falling over, nearly bending himself into an upside down 'L' so he can spy through the open doorway just what is transpiring.
From his awkward position, he spots Sigyn and one of her brothers having a conversation about something. She hands him a sack, the same from last night. The one that had gotten good ole dear brother Thor so hot and bothered over. Containing whatever it is she had stolen from the All-father's well-guarded vault.
Curiouser and curiouser, indeed.
He can just make out Sigyn telling her Dwarven brother to guard it with his life, before kneeling to his level and giving him a strong but heartfelt hug. A tender moment, not knowing when she would ever see her family again. If ever.
And so Loki watches. His heart filled with something that isn't quite jealousy, but a hurt. A yearning for her to hold him the same. Even just a little. That and the nagging feeling deep within his bones that whatever it is sitting at the bottom of that sack is important. So terribly so.
Sigyn stands and straightens her short, pleated skirt, readying to leave her brother and the room. As does Loki straighten himself immediately, nearly falling on his ass in the process as he instantly returns to whatever he'd been occupying his attention with on one of the bookshelves. Pretending he hadn't been eavesdropping at all.
She enters the room and stops just inside the doorway, staring at Loki meticulously inspecting a book plucked right off the shelf.
"Are you... spying on me?" Sigyn asks, glaring at the upside down book in his hands.
"Nay. Of course not." Loki lies nonchalant, pretending to read his inverted book before casually returning it to the shelf. A sly smirk works its way onto his lips. "What's in the bag?"
With a roll of the eye, Sigyn huffs and storms from the room. Loki follows, hot on her heels. His whole being thrumming with a childlike excitement.
"We have something in common, you and I." Loki gushes, stepping up right beside Sigyn. "I borrowed the Casket of Ancient Winters from Odin's treasure trove, while you..."
"I didn't STEAL anything." Sigyn interjects.
"Steal? Borrow? Take? Why mince words?" He grins. "What's important now is that we have some common ground lain between us. We're so very much alike, thee and me. As have we so very much to talk about now. And communication is key. Which, as I've been told, is the basis for any healthy relationship."
"You and I are nothing alike." She reminds through grit teeth.
Sigyn could quicken her pace but it would do of little good.
"So what you're saying, then, is that opposites attract?" The Trickster twists her words.
"I'm saying there is no US."
There's nowhere to run to in this house. Or anywhere. Wherever, whenever, there is no escape from him.
"Yes, dear." Loki nods playfully.
"We've NO relationship." Sigyn continues seriously. "Healthy or otherwise."
"Of course, my wife."
"Why are you still talking?" She hisses.
"Because I love the sound of my voice." The Liar answers honestly, earning a much agitated groan from the woman at his side.
Making their way through the house, Loki and Sigyn find themselves back inside the kitchen where Sif is just finishing filling the canteens with fresh water from the well.
"By the way, did you receive the breakfast I'd laid out for you?" Loki tries his hand at charming. "And might I just add how absolutely breathtaking you look this morning?"
Which she is.
The armor she wears is simply elegant. Her breastplate of the brightest, shining silver. As magnificent as the sun and decorated in lovely knots and scrolling metalwork, some of which fashioned into the likeness of feathers. While her skirt is of rich leather and steel. Pleated and short, coming to a hem at but a quarter of her thigh to make for easy movement along the battlefield.
The whole of her uniform leaves for little of the imagination. With much of her skin exposed, namely her arms, legs, collar and back, it leaves all of those spots open, which are most vulnerable to an attack. And yet in that lies the advantage. While her armor does little in the realm of protection, it does wonders in mobility, making her quick on her feet. Tis lightweight and breathable. Thus making for a stark contrast to his own outfitting. What with his long, heavy coat, tall boots, and the thick green and black leathers he wears. It only proves that while he is better suited to fight amongst the shadows, she is built for the advance. Right on front line.
And Loki should be terrified. The last he'd seen such armor, he was on his back in the midst of a field of blood, about to get his neck snapped in two. But on Sigyn? On Sigyn, she looks so pure and beautiful. The very definition of goddess. Nothing short of a queen. Unlike another certain Lady in their presence.
Loki spots Sif at the other end of the room. The protective Mother Hen with her sights on the fox in the roost. Laying down the last of her canteens, she fixes to march over. A cock block to which nothing but a little bit of magic cannot solve.
With the slightest flick of the finger, Loki causes a pack to topple over, spilling its contents out all over the floor, along with the canteens. Thus causing Sif to stop and clean up after her oh-so clumsy mess.
"As I was saying..."
Though cool on the outside, how his heart does race as he reaches out to touch her. His fingers grazing along the soft white fur draped proud upon her shoulders. Now cleaned, tis the same that she had worn at the time of their wedding. Something that he'd noticed immediately. That and the fact that she doesn't move as he so boldly bridges the gap between them. She doesn't even flinch.
Her cold, pale eyes focus solely on his. As does his shining emerald on her own. Locked in gaze as his fingers dare to wander.
His hand softly glides from the fur and down her arm. Slowly. So terribly slowly. Inch by anxious inch. As if coaxing a viper, Loki waits for her to strike. Waits for her rejection of him and his touch, but she does nothing. And so he continues.
Lower down her arm his fingers glide. Like snowflakes kissing her skin, the hair on the back of her arm stands upright as the cold of his fingers passes over her.
Tis such a familiar feeling. That electricity as his fingers come to a rest atop her own. How his larger hand mirrors her smaller, more delicate one, just before he marries their fingers together. Weaving them side by side as he joins his hand in hers.
Though her features never shed their sharp and bitter edge, as Loki stares into her eyes he can sense but the slightest betrayal of emotion. There's a softness there. A warmth. Hope. He can feel it. And he knows that she can feel it too.
"Sigyn, my sweetest Sunshine, I -"
Just then, Fandral bursts in through the back door leading from the outside and into the kitchen.
"HO!" He bellows joyfully, addressing all inside. "We've just about finished with preparations. If the lot of you are ready, we'll be setting off momentarily!"
And so, the moment's passed.
Whatever kindness he had found in her eyes has died. Returned to the frigid hatred he deserves.
Scowling, Sigyn retracts her hand from his before making her way towards Fandral waiting at the door. As does Sif glare at Loki as she, too, finds her way to the Dashing.
"M'ladies."
With a chivalrous bow, Fandral holds the door for the pair of ladies as they pass.
"My, I'd think I'd died and gone to Valhalla." He quips as Sigyn crosses the threshold. "My dear, you are absolutely divine."
Though Sigyn doesn't look back to notice, Loki can see quite clear the lecherous way that Fandral does stare as she passes. How his eyes do run up and down the length of her bare back. That slight tilt to his head as his attention comes to a rest on her skirted behind. Just before his sights meet the floor.
Yet another flick of Loki's wrist, and Fandral finds the rug getting pulled out from under him. Quite literally as he falls flat on his face in the open doorway.
With a self-satisfied grin, Loki shoves his hands in his pockets and heads to the door. Following after the ladies as he steps over the fallen Fandral, now on his back groaning and clutching his head.
"Best watch your step!" Loki puckishly sings a warning as he goes.
Once outside, he can see Sif and Hogun securing the packs to the horses while Volstagg is scratching at his beard, trying to figure out the logistics of whether or not the great beast can withstand his valorous weight.
Sigyn is saying her farewells to that of her kin. Bending low, she accepts a pair of blades from one of her smithing brothers and so sheaths them in the dual scabbard on her back.
As is Thor saying his goodbyes. With a hearty handshake, the Prince of Asgard thanks the Ivaldison brethren for their hospitality. For opening their home to the lot of them and providing the necessities for the journey ahead. To where, only Loki knows for certain. Tis a journey into mystery that awaits them all.