Sy
She stood on the ramp leading to the jet, a new and unfamiliar sword in her hand.
It was a near perfect replica of her celestial bronze one, only this one was forged from folded steel. Designed to maim and kill mortal enemy combatants. She's always owned weapons capable of harming mortals; but never one designated solely for that purpose. Before, it had solely been about defense, protection against mortals who might want to take advantage of an orphaned demigod on her own. That had been changing rapidly over the course of the past few years, to purposefully seeking out and fighting human enemies. She wasn't sure if she was ok with that.
The sword felt wrong, even though it was perfectly balanced. Tony had outdone himself, it was a flawless piece of work. She had a feeling if she cared to look closer there would be modifications to the weapon added in here and there, but Sy didn't look. She knew how to use a sword, and she'd prefer to stick with what she knows. Or at least, with what she used to know.
Loki silently came up next to her. She flicked him, her hand passing easily through the illusion, and the image wavered for a moment like the static on a faulty television. He just sighed, and settled down again, watching her intently. Sy gave in.
"It's been awhile since I've fought. Or trained. Or done anything but lay passively on a cold table in the dark." She confessed quietly, bitter anger for her helplessness while in HYDRA captivity spilling into her tone. Last night her nightmares had been particularly bad, so much so that Steve (who'd apparently had Tony rig up some kind of baby monitor style program in her room) came crashing in, worried that something had happened. He sat with her all night while she'd shook with fear, all her lights on until it was time for them to start getting ready for the mission.
Loki shrugged.
"And I'm not even here. Yet I am talking to you. Granted I'm speaking to you from the comfort of Stark's lovely bar, overlooking a city filled with people who either love me obsessively or hate me with burning passion. We all have our burdens to bear. You are a godling. Fighting is like breathing for you. It's going to be fine." Sy nodded. Loki smiled at her briefly.
"Besides, not unlike my thick headed brother, you are incapable of being passive. You fought back that entire time Sy, and don't you dare forget that." A moment later the image faded away. A rush of pride filled her for a moment, and even though she could feel the ghost of metal over her cheeks, she found that for once she wasn't struggling to breath. She'd earned that gag after her music had helped her to escape one to many times. She may have never gotten close enough to see sunlight, but she had fought back. Her music still worried her, but the heavy weight in her chest loosened slightly. She contemplated the sword in her hand for another moment, light glinting off the metal.
Sy sheathed her sword properly and picked up the violin at her feet before heading for her usual seat.
She is a demigod, battle tested and determined. She can do this.