Day-Drinking
As she gets ready for her sister's anniversary party, Sigyn tries her best to ignore Norell's glares. Her girlfriend has been giving her the silent treatment all afternoon over celebrating Haldana's relationship considering that it is the sore spot in their own relationship.
In Norell's view, Sigyn's interference into Haldana's love life had been nearly too great a transgression for her to bear. To this day, Sigyn is not quite sure why this is. Part of her imagines that Norell simply does not believe that Haldana's parents would rather slit their own wrists than tarnish their reputations by outing Sigyn to all of Asgard, even if she would bear the brunt of the consequences. Another part of her thinks that Norell feels scorned by her efforts to bring a secret romance to light that was not their own. For all her objections to the prospect of being outed to the realm, Norell has been insisting as of late that Sigyn's commitment to their relationship is no longer what it once was.
Admittedly, their relationship has been challenging for a while. Family troubles aside, their respective occupations have become a stressor, as well. Norell has always thought that Sigyn is too cynical about her job, but it is not like she ever has to deal with being the only woman at work, what with being a seamstress.
Not that there is anything wrong with being a seamstress. Without them, no one in Asgard would have clothes. Being a soldier is simply a more taxing job. That is an objective fact.
Norell also thinks that Sigyn doesn't know how to healthily process her emotions, which is ridiculous. Sure, for a time, she had foolishly desired validation from her father, but she has since realized that he will always have a low opinion of her, so she doesn't think about it anymore. That's healthy, right?
Apparently, Sigyn's decision to wear gold, dangly earrings for the evening is enough provocation for Norell to finally speak to her. "Oh, you're putting on jewelry now?"
Sigyn tosses her earrings onto the dresser, turning to face Norell. "I do not understand how it is that you can still be mad about this," she states, already knowing where this soon-to-be fight is going.
Norell's face contorts in mock confusion. "Do you mean, how could I be mad about you jeopardizing both our livelihoods without running it by me?"
"It was two years ago," Sigyn rebuts, leaning forward, frustrated.
"And you have never apologized," Norell screams, standing from Sigyn's bed.
Sigyn grits her teeth. "Why would I apologize for helping my little sister be with the man she loves?"
Norell sputters for a few seconds before saying, "Because you threatened to out yourself—therefore me, by extension—in order to get it done!"
"It was an empty threat," Sigyn insists. "I knew they would never call my bluff. I was never going to actually do it. Everything is fine."
"Oh, good. 'Fine,'" Norell remarks, crossing her arms and turning away. "Exactly how you want a relationship to be. Just 'fine.'"
Sigyn's mouth opens and closes, but no response passes her lips. Every time they have this argument, she has to be careful not to say anything too harsh. Apparently, another thing Norell doesn't like about her being a soldier is that it makes her mean.
Of course, their biggest issue of all is the Loki Problem.
"So," Norell speaks up just as Sigyn finishes braiding her hair to the side. "Is the Prince Loki going to be at the party?"
Here we go. "No," Sigyn informs her, finally slipping on her earrings. "He is in Alfheim on a diplomatic mission."
Norell responds only by rolling her eyes.
"What," Sigyn snaps.
Norell shrugs. "Nothing. You just always seem to know exactly where he is."
"Because we are friends," she shrieks, not for the first time. "Do you want to know where Pontus or Quimby are?"
She shrugs again, looking as though she doesn't believe Sigyn knows where they are. "Sure. Where?"
Sigyn flounders, having not actually expected Norell to inquire about her other friends' whereabouts. "They are in Asgard. Probably."
Norell gives her a look as though to say, Point made.
"Whatever," Sigyn grumbles, throwing a borrowed, silk scarf from Haldana over her shoulders and moving to leave the room. This is the first aristocratic event to which she has ever been invited, and she is not about to be late for it. "I haven't time for this right now."
As she opens her bedroom door, she hears Norell mutter, "You never have time for us anymore," but she does not stop to rebuke her girlfriend's statement. As much as she hates to admit it, it is true.
Loki sends her a letter upon his return from Alfheim.
Sigyn,
The talks with the Light Elves have been dreadfully boring.
Most regrettably, it seems as though they are going to continue for some time. The Lord Fray of Vanaheim has returned with us, so I will likely be in and out of meetings with him and the Allfather for the next several weeks. As such, I do not imagine we will see very much of each other for the duration of this never-ending summit. Not in person, at least.
In the past few years, you have displayed a sublime propensity for illusionary magic. I think it is time that you learn one of the more complicated and dangerous techniques of sorcery: astral projection.
Make sure you are in a non-public place at midday tomorrow.
Yours,
Loki.
"He signed the letter, 'Yours,'" Pontus observes from over her shoulder as the two of them sit at the bar of a loud, dingy tavern not far from her house. "What, is he in love with you?"
She rolls her eyes at the thought of a prince of Asgard being in love with her. "Please. This is simply how people sign letters," she apprises him.
He purses his lips. "And you know this how? Do you even receive letters from anyone else?"
She raises an eyebrow. "Do you receive letters from anyone at all?"
Pontus chuckles and shakes his head, acquiescing. A beat passes, and he inquires, "Say, when is that letter dated?"
Her brow furrows. "Why do you care?"
He shrugs. "I don't, but he said 'tomorrow,' yes?"
Following his train of thought, Sigyn turns over the envelope. The postmark is from yesterday.
"And it is about a quarter of an hour to midday, wouldn't you say," he remarks, nonchalantly sipping from his tankard of mead.
Abruptly, Sigyn shoves her stool backward, jumping from her seat, and throwing the payment for her drink onto the bar counter. As she runs from the pub, she can hear Pontus's booming laughter behind her.
She winds her way through the masses on the streets, stumbling past vendors and groups of children playing in the roadway. Upon reaching her front door, she fumbles with her key for a ridiculous amount of time before getting it open. She rushes up the stairs to her room, throwing off her armor as she goes.
Her bedroom, like the rest of her house, is comfy and nice, but not extravagant in any way. She has various trinkets strewn about the room, most of which are souvenirs from Haldana's travels. All of her furniture is from her childhood, so her room is unfortunately rather juvenile.
Once in front of the mirror in her bathroom, she alters her remaining clothes into a simple pink dress. As quickly as she can, she re-braids her hair and brushes her teeth to get the smell of alcohol off her breath. Silently, she chides herself for day-drinking. It never ends well for her.
After hastily making her bed, she is contemplating whether or not she should remove her boots when a green-clad figure materializes in front of her.
"Hi," she squeaks, tugging at her braid. "How was Alfheim?"
Loki makes a tired, flippant gesture, telling her, "Same as always."
"I'm sure, but I've never been," she informs him.
"Ah." He nods in understanding. "How many of the other worlds have you visited?"
A little embarrassed, she tells him, "I've only been to Vanaheim on military tours."
"Ah, well, perhaps I shall take you with me one of these days," he suggests.
"Yeah, right," she snorts, disbelieving. "The Bifrӧst is the only way out of Asgard. As if the Lord Heimdall would let me through with you."
Brusquely, Loki changes the subject. "Let's get on with the lesson."
Sigyn is nonplussed by the unexpected shift in conversation, but she decides to let the topic drop, as well.
"Before you is my astral form, or more commonly, my spirit," he explains.
She steps forward almost timidly. "Can you feel things," she wonders aloud.
"I can partially interact with objects and beings in the material world," he tells her. "And of course, astral forms can interact with one another just as physical forms do."
She nods, absorbing the information. Before she met Loki, she had no knowledge of much of what she has since learned from him. She had certainly never imagined that there could be an astral realm, a whole other world for existence. The fact that she has access to any of it is nothing short of astonishing.
"It takes significant concentration to be able to separate one's material and astral forms," he expounds, stepping closer. "For educational purposes, I will facilitate the first separation of your two forms." Without any notice, his hand flies out, reaching through her chest and coming into contact with something inside of her that she had not previously known to be there. The next thing she knows, she is standing over the crumpled form of her own body.
"Ooh," she breathes out anxiously, looking down at her hands. They appear perfectly corporeal. She does not feel any lighter than usual. Although, she does feel as though she is not really here. "This is so creepy." She peers up at Loki, finding him sporting a rather amused expression. "Warn me next time you do something like that, why don't you," she grumbles.
He smiles wider. "Sorry. I thought it would be more fun this way."
"Perhaps for you," she mutters under her breath, watching her foot pass through her own skull as her material form lies supine and wholly unresponsive on the floor. She walks around her room, testing how it feels to walk around. At last, she comes to the door. She reaches to open it, but her hand passes through the knob, pink light flashing around the appendage. Spurred by a sudden thought, she turns back to Loki. "Why is our magic different?"
His brow furrows. "I beg your pardon?"
"Mine is pink, and yours is green," she elaborates. "Why is that? It's not because I'm a girl, is it?" That would be such a stupid reason.
"Hardly," he laughs, probably amused by her irked expression. "My mother says the color is a reflection of one's soul. Her magic is blue, which makes sense. Power, integrity, and whatnot."
Sigyn hums in contemplation, wondering what her color symbolizes. Love? Compassion? Not exactly how I would describe myself, she thinks idly.
Something else occurs to her, and her lips quirk mischievously. "Green, huh? Is there someone of whom you are jealous," she teases.
Her smile drops as she watches his lips twist in discontent, his eyes not reflecting the returned mirth she had been anticipating. She worries that she may have hit upon something of which he does not wish to speak. Quick to apologize, she rushes out, "Sorry, I—"
"It's fine," he assures her, shaking his head. For the second time today, he changes the subject. "I have a meeting with the party from Alfheim, so I must be on my way."
A flicker of disbelief crosses her mind, but she keeps her expression neutral. "Of course, Your Highness. Unti—Wait, how do I get back into my body," she exclaims, frantic.
"Ah." Loki smiles mischievously. "That is for you to figure out."
"So, how long did it take," Haldana asks cheekily, hanging upside down off the end of Sigyn's bed. Her golden hair kisses the knitted rug on the floor.
Sigyn groans. "Almost an hour." She had tried everything to return to her material form: meditation, levitating and dropping hard objects over her head in an attempt to shock herself awake, and even lying down in the same space as her physical body. Eventually, cracking herself across the face hard was the thing that did it.
"I imagine it will take me a few years to get the hang of that particular trick," she grouses, leaning back on her dresser.
Haldana's gaze lands on something next to her. Her arm flies up, finger pointing with insistence. "What is that?"
Sigyn turns her head to the side, looking down to find an ornate box resting in the center of her dresser's surface. "I don't know," she says slowly, standing up straight. She picks up the small box, running her fingers over its edges. The object appears to be made of wood, though not of any sort she recognizes. It is almost glittery, as though enchanted. It sports an intricate design, perfectly hand-carved. She finds a clasp on the front of the box and flips it open. The lid rises gradually to reveal a gamboling statuette of a fae couple and a stirring tune. She watches the two miniature figures dance together in time with the melody. They move as though independent of both each other and the device, though they never part or leave the confines of the box. "Wow," she breathes, awestruck.
The sheets of the bed rustle as her sister rises and comes to stand by her side. She regards Haldana with a sideways look. "Have you ever seen anything quite like—What's wrong?"
Haldana appears afflicted. In her hands is a slip of paper she had picked up from the top of the dresser. Wordlessly, she hands it over to Sigyn.
An enchanted music box for an enchanting woman.
- Loki
Charmed by the complimentary message and pleased that she had correctly assessed the device's magical quality, Sigyn smiles, biting her lip. Part of her is used to Loki's extravagant way of speaking—and writing—but sometimes she cannot help but flush pleasantly at his words.
Not that she appreciates his sentiments more than other people's.
Well, maybe a little, but that makes sense because a prince.
Not that she cares that he is a prince. She would only care about that if she were attracted to men.
Not that she thinks of Loki in terms of attraction. They are just friends.
Sure, he's gorgeous, intelligent, funny, strong, char—
Oh.
Oh, no.
"I have to go," she suddenly blurts out, catching her sister off-guard.
Haldana raises an eyebrow, visibly suspicious. "Oh?"
"Yes." Running about the room, Sigyn throws on her outerwear and shoes. "You can stay, if you would like. My mother will probably make a snack for you, provided you ask nicely."
Once at the door, she regards her still-skeptical sister with a wobbly smile. "I will be back in a few hours." With that, she rushes out of the house and through the streets. In almost no time at all, she arrives at Norell's house. She uses her key to unlock the door before slipping it off her keyring and placing it on the counter.
The noise of the key clicking against the wood draws Norell's attention from her place on the couch. She pauses in her needlework and smiles at Sigyn.
Before Norell can say a word in greeting, Sigyn tells her, "We need to break up."