9399/Asgard's Requiem: No Secrets

Asgard's Requiem: No Secrets
Date of Scene:	02 October 2019
Location:	The Broken Antler, Kvalvika, New Asgard
Synopsis:	'Thor', as played by Loki, asks Sif about ...Loki
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Sif
Tinyplot:	Asgard's Requiem

---

Loki has posed:
It has been a full day in New Asgard, minding all of the movement of the people, giving hands-on assurances to them, helping the process of packing. Not all of the Asgardians are moving at once, so there has been some logistics involved to bring many of the people home.

The mood is electric, though: not only because Thor is there, but because the whole of seeing home again has energized everyone. Thor indeed has been present throughout the day, with a buoyant smile for everyone. The whole of the alehouse has already moved over (priorities), which means the building that held it is empty. Thor enters, finding one of the few drinks left behind perhaps -- but he now sits on the empty floor of where the tavern stood, back against the far wall, looking at the emptied place, and drinking the ale from the barrel next to him. The tavern is a little dark, quiet: transitional, now, that it's emptied.

Sif has posed:
The trades quarter of the city is slowly emptying and while it sets Sif's heart to jangling in excited nerves, there is an undertone of trepidation. She has her proverbial fingers crossed everything goes as planned, or at least as smoothly as can be managed with the boistrous excitement. Word has spread that Thor is amongst the people and after her short errand cut shorter yet by bolts of fabric being put away rather than laid out for her consideration, the Vanir Princess makes her way towards the Broken Antler. A mug of mead would not go remiss in her experience to take the edge off of the day.

She arrives to see the interior lighting banked lower and, with a curious frown, pushes the door in. "Hello?" Her voice travels easily enough in the stillness and reverberates back at her. It's an oddity that makes her pause still silhouetted in the doorway with a palm flat to the thick wooden panel. It's easy enough to spot the seated Asgardian.

"Seven hells, I thought you a vagrant for a moment," she tells the eldest Odinson on the way over, flashing him a bright and friendly grin. "But being seated with ale is for //after// the rout is complete, is it not?" Pausing before him, the Valkyrie in her silver armor and red battle-leathers, sword at her waist, smirks up a storm.

Loki has posed:
'Thor' (because who else could it be, looking and sounding like Thor, and doing Thor-things all day?) laughs warmly and openly as she challenges him about the status of the rout. He pats the floor next to him twice with one hand.

"It is not complete? How much more is there to do before I earn the right to whet my palate before the feast?" teases the Asgardian king.

"Come Lady Sif. Join me now. Tell me of you, for we have not spoken of late. Grant me knowledge of all that is Sif," chuckles Thor, welcoming. Clearly the return of Asgard has done much for Thor: he is tired, but the saddened quality he was prone to with the loss of Asgard has faded away.

Sif has posed:
The bare floor is given a measuring look before Sif apparently deems it an appropriate place to seat herself. Armor rings softly against itself as she then settles cross-legged beside him, knee not close enough to bump against Thor. She sighs as she leans her head back against the wall and scans the entire breadth of the emptied tavern through a slow turn of her head.

"I could regale you with the number of quarters still left to herd on to Asgard, but I do not doubt your retainers and stewards have been at your ear since dawn for many days. You do not need me to further this effort," the Vanir finally says with a wry little laugh. Her eyes slide over even as she leaves her dark hair pressed against the warmly-stained wooden wall.

"You know well enough my habits, my lord." The title is mocking in a friendly manner. "What else is there to tell. You know of my hand in aiding your brother's efforts. It was a mediocre effort on my part, lending what aid I did -- the lion's share of the efforts came from him alone. If you have not spoken with him lately, he appears to be well if recovering still from the wounds. You remember seeing them earlier upon Midgard." Her lips thin and she frowns off over Thor's knees to some point on the floor.

"Would that it could have been done without such pain, but I do remember that all magic comes with a cost. To rekindle a world..." A lock of dark hair falls free of her hasty up-pinned circular bun of a braid to dangle alongside her cheek as she shakes her head. "It is unimaginable to someone like me, with so little grasp of the old magics."

Loki has posed:
'Thor' laughs again softly as she mentioned the stewards and helpers assisting him. "I shall learn to delegate properly yet," Thor assures her, with one finger lifted to the ceiling, and a firm nod. He will do it. Perhaps. "Or others shall continue to leap upon the tasks, to save me from such quandry." Thor smiles at her aside, and sits up a little more, refilling the tankard. He doesn't have a second one, so she'll have to share.

"All of our habits have upended as of late," Thor reminds her. "As you know, my brother would not show weakness if he can but help it. But as he is not bleeding at our feet, I must assume that he will recover in due time. He always does." Thor offers the tankard to her with a lift of both brows, expectant that his old friend will accept it.

"But I did not know that you were attending him. Does everything appear to be going well, from what you have seen?"

Sif has posed:
Without flinching, Sif takes the offered tankard. She holds it as she apparently thinks about how to answer Thor's question. No doubt she's weighing the ease of truth through friendship verses the possibility of pricking the Trickster God's pride about oversharing.

Her throat moves in a few gulps and she reappears from behind the stein with a sigh. "I believe your brother will recover. He required aid with his wounds which I provided through a clever device he created to remove injury from him," she reports with a glance over at Thor, brows still quirked. "As far as I have observed, everything does appear to be going well, yes." A broad answer for a broad question. The Valkyrie offers back the tankard in order to adjust the lay of her scabbard to alongside her leg rather than an ankle poking the pommel into her side.

Loki has posed:
There is a puzzled look from 'Thor' about the device, but like many times before, he brushes off the details as just something that he doesn't know about, and it is fine. "Excellent. That is good to hear. I also found the process very draining, but no sacrifice is too much for Asgard's heart to return to her chest," decrees the god, with a firm nod, accepting back the tankard to tilt it back and drain the rest of it in one go.

"I do think my father would be proud," Thor says. There's a slight fish there, for possible agreement, but he doesn't linger over it, he refills the tankard carefully: they do not have a lot more in New Asgard, it is precious.

Sif has posed:
"Odin would be proud, yes, of both of his sons." Sif smiles again, flashing her teeth before her lips fall closed again. She watches a clot of Asgardians walk by the windows and marks their jovial attitudes in the laughter, toss of heads, gestures of hands. "As I told your brother, you have made a dream become a reality. Would someone have asked me to honor a bet for whether or not I would see Asgard live in the my lifespan, I would not have taken it and likely toppled the inquirer over a table with my fist." A twitch of a smirk disappears again. "Like all of your people, I too was sore in my heart over its loss."

Thor is given a once-over before she asks, "Were you a conduit for the magical energies as well? I remember you rising in concern from a long rest with Midgard's Sanctum Sanctorum."

Loki has posed:
'Thor' is open with his gestures and willingness to bond with others, something Loki knows well. So trusting, Thor can be. He beams at her, and nods once, moving one hand up towards her, palm up, between them, expecting her to clasp his hand with hers, a physical show of working together to make it.

"It was a dream I did not believe in, I must agree; the possibility did not seem one that could be made real by our hands. I appreciate being wrong, as well. Such bets would we have lost, Sif!" 'Thor' chuckles deeply. "Loki must be enjoying his success," Thor shrugs some.

"I was part conduit, yes. Myself and Hela are deeply linked to our home. I have since been having strong dreams of Odin, now that the link is restored. I have yet to decipher what it may mean." His blonde brows furrow. "It has been much time without hope for the impossible -- yet still I would be wary to take another bet on such a hope."

Sif has posed:
A big grin precedes Sif clapping her hand into his larger palm and shaking it lightly in friendly motions. She relaxes her arm, intending to let Thor's hand drop to rest knuckles upon the floor, her fingers still wrapped around the outer line of his hand.

"I think..." Pausing, her teeth visibly fret her plump bottom lip. It furls out into a thinning press and she meets Thor's eyes again. "I would hope, but not overmuch in that account. Let the master soothsayers hear of your dream first before you begin counting your eggs for clutch. Or perhaps check with your brother? He surely must be dreaming the same? It could be possible, could it not, given he too connected himself so deeply to Asgard's return?"

Loki has posed:
Loki's --- err, Thor's -- hand drops smoothly to the floor, allowing her to retain hold of it, at ease. The full tankard is offered to her, a gallant quality there: allow the lady the first sip of the new draught. Even if it's him that finished the previous one.

"Aye, I shall let them know, when they are not knee-deep in moving their tapestries," Thor chuckles. He also snorts, "Such talk of Loki. I could dare think your thoughts are going very often to my brother, lady," he teases her, with a sideways, amused look. "Though I admit he has done much to keep himself in front of our minds of late," he says, though there's a curious little grin there. Her old friend knows her, perhaps? Or the amusement is coming from somewhere else....

Sif has posed:
Sif gives Thor a gimlet side-glance even as she lifts the accepted tankard to her lips. The blond Asgardian must suffer what appears to be a leisurely downing of at least //half// the tankard before she offers it back to him. Just a sip -- pfft.

"Were Loki a member of the vaunted actors and actresses of Midgard's Hollywood, he would be seen upon every missive in every shop. He might even stand a chance against your Avenger's Stark for publicity." Still, the Princess laughs and brings her free fingers up to her mouth, a gesture seen before half-summoned by a sudden wave of nerves.

"Fine." A roll of her glacial-blues and she can't meet Thor's eyes again. "Yes, my thoughts wander to him often."

She regrets giving the tankard back now, though she doesn't release her shared handhold with the Asgardian King. A childhood friendship has not changed over the millenia.

Loki has posed:
Sif may regret handing away the stein, but evidently 'Thor' is paying attention and was right there to hand it back to her the instant she wants it back. It's like he KNEW. However, the dodge of meeting Thor's eyes is interesting, and just makes him more curious. And the best way to get someone to talk more is to just let some silence grow in the room: often people feel a need to continue to speak. Thor does that now, just lets her talk.

Sif has posed:
Oh look, the tankard's hovering in her peripheral vision. With a curl of her lips, her silent admission to wanting it ends in her taking it back again. She looks down into it, at her partial reflection on its surface, as if it might divine answers locked inside her own skull. Long ago was she taught to guard her mind against intrusion.

"You must be tired indeed. It is a miracle to hear you silent after my saying such a thing," she mutters, risking a quick glance over at him. Another half-volume of the ale disappears before she emerges from the tankard. "It is..."

A quiet scoff is at her inability to put it to words. She knows Thor would not go gadding her secrets about the city and this reminder floating through her consciousness has her trying again.

"I used to hate him. Deeply." Thor is given a solemn, almost guilty peek from the corner of her half-lidded eye. "For the trick upon my hair. You remember it -- golden as the sunshine, lauded in all the lands. The centuries have given me time to consider what lesson, if any, he may have been attempting to impart in the curse. I decided to no longer treat it as a curse about the turn of Midgard's seventeeth century. I was receiving equal laud for it in its darkened state. In his way, he granted me a boon." Her smile is hesitant, still more a pursing of lips than anything else as she looks again down at the ale in the tankard rested on her lap.

"I have...mmm." A sharp shake of her head. The rest of the ale disappears in lieu of words.

Loki has posed:
"It did seem something of a curious switch, to go from hatred in this way. You have not been enraptured, have you?" Thor questions her with an arch of brow, and a slow squint there. It would not be impossible for Loki to perform such magic, after all. And considering her behavior, it is not strange for Thor to question her for her oddness!

"I do recall the lustre of your mane," Thor agrees, with a distant look in the empty tavern, as if the memory were in the room. "But that is a shadow in ancient past. I feel this is you now," says the Asgardian supportively. "It would be no good to go back. Some things are earned," Thor says, lifting a hand to adjust the eyepatch covering his missing eye. He belatedly reaches to take the empty flask from her, but only sets it near the rest of it, and brings the hand back to fold it over the back of the hand that had been joined to his other one, broad palm wrapping over it.

Sif has posed:
"No!" Thor is given a shocked and almost insulted look. "No, I have not been ensorcelled. I would know," the Valkyrie insists, her jaw set. "Even he could not breach the defenses of my mind. We were schooled well by Hela against such things." She doesn't seem displeased by the cupping of her hand between Thor's palms; if anything, her own is cooler and even beginning to dampen.

Sif's throat then moves in a swallow as she glances away from Thor again. "I feel it would be no good to return, yes. Too much time has passed. We have both...matured and..." Her lips roll and then smooth again, her gaze upon the far windows yet again. "There have been instances where he has acted the gentleman rather than the cad," she admits quietly.

She's not blushing lightly, you are.

Loki has posed:
"I know you know well what he is capable of," 'Thor' says. "Were you another Lady, I would speak differently, but I know you remember it." This has gotten to be a very strange conversation. Privately, 'Thor' hasn't had this much fun in a while. How to make it even more fun? He's creative, after all.

"My heart still aches from the discovery of Ellisandra's betrayal," Thor says, with a sudden deep expression of loss, pain, frustration, rage. All of those things banter about his visage.

He also refills the stein in a heavy way, emotions churning like a raincloud, it appears. He takes a drink of it, gaze distant. "To see your blush when we speak of such things - so unusual to see, Sif. I am happy for you. Concerned that you are suffering a malady of insanity, but happy." Thor winks. Sort of -- hard to wink with one eye, but the intent is clear.

Sif has posed:
The teasing well-wishing has Sif rolling her eyes dramatically yet again. An entirely unlady-like snort leaves her to boot, even part hiss with a curl of upper lip, as she glowers now at 'Thor'. Her retort is typical to the Vakyrie, blunt and still somehow caring, her delivery calm.

"I have memory of pulling you aside before your murderous bride even set foot within New Asgard to ask if someone had either poisoned your mead, clapped you with a befuddling curse, or if you had simply finally leapt from the tallest parapet of the castle to land head-first on a dare," she reminds the oldest Odinson. "Do not tease me of insanity." A sniff. "And besides, we are better for her absence. Betrayal indeed. If I had been given the opportunity, I would have shown her how the Valkyr treat with backstabbing chits."

Sif shakes her head. Tsk.

Loki has posed:
"Many did assist about that, including Captain Rogers," Thor says, though there's stubbornness there. "No harm is done, and she was thoroughly punished for her insidious plans." Still, Thor looks unhappy. "I shall continue to seek, even so," Thor assures her. He won't be stopped by that backstabbing chit, he'll have her know! And also, there's some need to dodge exactly what happened with Ellisandra. That is not a shining moment to continue to discuss.

"But do not keep from me the tales of what blooms within /your/ heart," Thor chuckles, a warmth to the smile. "And continue to assist me in making this barrel lighter for transport."

Sif has posed:
Sif's eyes narrow to hear the Captain's name dropped. Hmm. Noted.

"I am glad to hear she was given her due." Loftily bitten out, the Princess then changes tack in conversation because Thor makes it incredibly obvious this is a painful point yet so very recent in his past. The Aesir chooses not to press further; that, and she knows better than to get her own dander up where ale is involved.

"I cannot assist when the tankard is empty," she notes before giving Thor a searching look. "And where does this interest stem from? You rarely spend more than a moment in ponderment about blossoms as it stands." She's not resentful for this by the tone of her claim, merely pointing out behavior patterns in their past.

Loki has posed:
Point noted, things are getting suspicious. Loki adjusts. By relaxing into a deep, rolling laugh, of a volume that causes the room to shake just a little bit. He tops off the tankard once more, and gives it to her with a continued low chortle.

"Indeed, you have caught me at a time of reflection. Where things are. Where things are headed. The happiness of those who are close to me. Had I another stein, I would toast to such futures, that seem so bright indeed." 'Thor' just relaxes back, and smiles.

Sif has posed:
Pass the Tankard is the game in earnest now, and one Sif participates in without flinching. Another half of its contents disappear before she lifts it high, her tongue flickering about her lips to clear away any light foaming.

"To futures as glad as the rise of the sun each dawn and to Asgard revived, land which we hold dear in our hearts, home above all else," she toasts before giggling. Thor's laughter is apparently infectious -- that, and the ale's helping loosen her reservations. "I do not blame you for letting your mind wander. Now is the time to do as such, before the trappings of court fall again."

Her nexy sigh is musical. "You know, I had not seen your brother in other colors beyond that of forest-green and gold, or black. They are his heraldry, after all. He most recently wore silver bordered by a light green. I admit, it complimented his pale cast. If you should see him, let him know without admission to my source of the comment." A haughty squint is given to Thor now, implicating him as aid in this endeavor.

Loki has posed:
"I do not make any habit of complimenting Loki, for we can only imagine what could become of such an act," Thor says sternly, as if cautioning her against a very very serious offense. "I am also beginning to regret inquiry into this, if all it contains is compliments of my brother's pallor," continues Thor, making a face. It is, of course, well-engineered to encourage her to 'bother' Thor more. The games, the games: games inside of games.

"Do share that," Thor adds, rescuing the drink from her, to swing it. He appears to drain it, and move to refill. The barrel is very low, though.

Sif has posed:
"Tsst -- "

The sound of remonstration is sharp when Thor steals away her tankard, but Sif simply lets out a short growl of frustration rather than chase it or attempt to wrestle him for it. After all, they were sharing and she can share...even if she doesn't want to.

"It is not upon my head that you should have regrets. I shall speak to Loki myself then. I am no wilting flower. I am Valkyr. I will walk straight to him and tell him as such, since you've no interest in aiding my attempt to pass along a small kindness."

Thor even gets a small viewing of her tongue stuck out past her lips -- nyeh.

Loki has posed:
The more drunk Sif gets, the easier this is for Loki. "No, hardly a wilting flower; you have a robust bloom," 'Thor' agrees grandly with a lift of the tankard as if challenging a room full of other Asgardians about Sif's quality and strength.

"It is best to be direct, speak from the heart. I shall summon him forthwidth," Thor decides, with a swift nod at her, starting to clear his throat. He then pauses, and looks at her askence, "Unless this is a 'private' matter."

Sif has posed:
The pink blip of tongue gets sucked away in nearly outlandish shock now apparent on the Vanir Princess's face. She swallows again and glances down at the tankard, as if it might save her.

"Um."

Seconds stretch on as she rescues her now sweaty palm from Thor's hand and begins to fiddle with the strap of her sword on her belt, as if making absolutely certain she were armored and weaponized for such a conversation.

"It would be a private matter," she agrees in a very small voice. "But I can summon him myself. You need not exert yourself," Sif continues, her voice gaining volume again. "After all, we were endeavoring to make this barrel light enough for removal!"

By her tight smile, she's clearly wishing for more ale.

Loki has posed:
"Do not worry, for I shall not call out your blush in front of him," 'Thor' says, in a semi-drunken tone of his own. He did get started before her, it would make sense if he were more drunk. Not that he is. Because he hasn't had anywhere near as much as she, in actuality. Getting entirely drunk isn't really one of Loki's habits: he has to stay on his toes all the time. For reasons.

"Your secret interests are safe as can be," he teases her, but in a pleasant way. "Perhaps you think you can keep him on straight and narrow? I have not managed to do such a thing, in all these centuries."

Sif has posed:
"I think I might have a better chance of harnessing the sun itself in the sky," the Vanir admits with a laugh and scrub at her cheeks, as if she might wash away the pinking of both drink and charmed state by this alone. "But...I think that is part of what I find intriguing about him. That, and..."

Shaking her head, Sif then laughs again. "No -- //no//," she emphasizes, waving her hands before herself. "I have made fool enough of myself in this. I shall speak with him myself on matters." Her manner then softens into a long-lived fondness towards Thor. "You are a fine soul, finding time to share a tankard with me during this madness. Thank you."

Reaching out, she attempts to gently patpat Thor's jawline in affectionate expression of her appreciation.

Loki has posed:
"Perhaps similar to the chances of restoring Asgard from Ragnarok," 'Thor' answers, with his sometimes unusual wisdom. This, though, is smart, guided. Conversationally manipulative, drawing attention back to the most important think Loki has done lately. Important to remind of that.

A brow lifts a little at her admission of Loki being intriguing, but he only chuckles and shakes his head. "You are most welcome, Sif," he says grandly. It's almost overly Thor. "Shall this meeting remain in secrecy? I should not want to exact jealous ire from my brother, should he return your affections," Thor questions, teasing as she pats at his face, putting the drink in her patting-hand.

Sif has posed:
The reply comes on a sigh: "Please." Sif nods, retracting her hand after assuming to patpat the King of Asgard's cheek as if he might be an overly-friendly dog -- a scruffly one. The tankard is hers once more and she seems pleased for it. "I know well my chances of succeeding in convincing him that I mean no harm may be low, but..."

Beneath her pauldrons, her shoulders shift in a truly helpless shrug. The rest of her reasoning appears to be beyond proper explanation now, especially with the lulling swing of ale sloshing about in her logic processing.

"But yes, let no harm come of our conversation." Sif then makes to see if she can't finish off the entire rest of the tankard in one fell swoop. It's impressive; the steins are sized for Asgardian soldiers as is.

Loki has posed:
'Thor' chuckles after she pats his face, "Well, perhaps you can find success where others have failed. I would not bet against you," determines the kingly Asgardian, pleasant and kind as always with his childhood friend. He chuckles in amusement at her shrug, and moves his other hand across his body to squeeze her near shoulder under large palm, just after she downs the rest of the contents of that stein.

And adjusts the hand some to curl the backs of fingers near her ear, at her neck. It's an echo of the previous night. And it's very much on purpose.

Sif has posed:
The empty tankard is placed between them and Sif smacks her lips contentedly. Ale imparts such a pleasant lassitude through her body; all of the day's stressors and the gravity of the conversation just had seem to lift from her body. Tingly fingers are settled in her lap in a mirror of primness on display yester-evening to boot.

The feeling of the fingertips at her ear, disturbing the loose lock of dark hair having fallen earlier from its coiffing, makes Sif turn to look and then consider Thor.

And consider him more.

And then squint, as if there were something on the very tip of her tongue she can't remember in her inebriated state.

"...what do the Midgardians call it...deja vu? I am experiencing it."

Loki has posed:
"Hm? You have something in your hair, Lady Sif," 'Thor' says in a puzzled way, drawing the hand up more into her hair behind her ear, with a gesture of head for her to tip her head away more for him to get it.

A few moments later he draws his hands down, cupping something, and then opens them.

Squarely in his hands is an ethereal rabbit. Cords of shiny silver swirl over the surface of the rabbit's fur, over the ears, and wiggling nose. It quivers on Thor's palms, as if just as confused as anyone else about how it possibly could have stowed along this long.

"Rather, a hare."

Sif has posed:
Loki gets his spit-take if he were going for one.

Sif ends up coughing madly and placing the tankard aside, its contents sloshing about to nearly overspill its brim even at only one-third volume now.

"Seven hells?!" The Valkyrie stares at the rabbit as she recognizes the intricate star-silver patterns spun into its fur from the gardens where she last saw the Trickster God.

"Damnit!" The flush of embarrassment colors her cheeks as she looks around the room. Perhaps Sif were thinking she'd espy something out of place -- remiss -- some clue to where the mage is currently, but she knows better, even drunk on ale now. Her face disappears behind her hands briefly before she emerges with a sharp clearing of her throat.

"So be it," comes the quiet murmur, accepting that Loki is likely very aware of the entire conversation...including her promise to speak with him about his garb seen last evening.

Loki has posed:
What would Loki do normally now? He'd reveal himself as himself, have a good laugh, dodge the incoming assault, or use illusion to get out of it. And continue to have a good laugh. So, why isn't he doing that, right now?

The thought about that actually catches him. What's going on here? He should be entirely indifferent about the whole situation, and bat the mousie around at whim like a bored cat. He thinks about the conundrum, forced to actually look at his own actions, and what that could mean.

But Sif's reacting in real time, and he pulls himself back into character. "LOKI," 'Thor' thunders at nothing, as the rabbit frantically runs like a mad thing to the door and out, as if carrying a very urgent message.

"You said nothing bad," 'Thor' tells her firmly, moving both hands to attempt to take her by the shoulders, so that she hears him.

Sif has posed:
A good call on the part of 'Thor' to anchor the Valkyrie in the present. With the usual armor of her cool courtly schoolings shed by the amount of ale in her system, Sif looks oddly close to tears. His palms are able to land as she rotates towards him briefly onto one hip as to not risk bumbling her sword on the rise. It makes the dark-haired woman bump down into her sit again and she gives the elder Odinson brother a discomfited look through her lashes.

"I know." But does she? It lacks conviction. Another glance proves her wishing to follow on the tail of the fleet-footed illusionary rabbit, but she steels her spine.

"I know," Sif then repeats more firmly even as she pulls her hands into her lap again, not able to look up at 'Thor' again. "The heart is a fickle thing. Would that I was able to approach this with the plain frankness of logic, but I cannot. It is like attempting to play an instrument in a key beyond its ability."

Loki has posed:
"You said," 'Thor' begins to repeat gruffly, as if she hadn't heard him. He could shapeshift back, laugh in her face. He could shift and then be nice about it. Or he could see where things go. Curiosity makes the choice. "Nothing bad. It is always best to be up front, honest. And you are!" 'Thor', the most up front and honest guy, tells her. He then hands her the last of the ale.

"Worry not. I have learned there are no secrets from him; I simply do not make the attempt." A warm smile is added, and he lets go of her shoulders.

Sif has posed:
Accepting the ale seems to make Sif's shoulders slump in relief. Apparently, this particular incident requires more drink yet -- someone's going to wobble back to her room and probably need to sleep it off, when all is said and done.

"You are right," the Aesir sighs, fretting her lip again. The skin dimples and plumps, dimples and plumps, as she furls it out beneath the line of ivory. "I am uncertain as to why I try." A damp palm is dried on her thigh with a few swipes before Sif scrubs at one eye briefly. "Never mind my earlier goad, Thor," and there are a few weak chuckles. "I shall speak with Loki myself. My compliments will be accepted from my own tongue rather than another's in my stead."

Loki has posed:
'Thor' turns away from her, releasing her to sit back against the wall while he hefts the emptied ale barrel one handed. It's empty, but still, Thor's strong enough to make that trivial. "Well, we have finished our mission: the ale is gone," mourns the king, setting it back down.

"I will act as if we never spoke of him," Thor then assures her in a 'quiet' tone, with one pat to her knee. He sighs deeply and then begins to get to his feet. "There is more to complete 'fore the sun sets."

Sif has posed:
"The ale will be deeply missed." Again the Valkyrie attempts to rally her sense of humor and lifts the tankard. "But there will be more to be appreciated in Asgard. I cannot wait." She grins from ear to ear in a flicker of true excitement at the idea of once more being able to sit with the Einherjar and exchange tales over steins of mead in the halls she has missed in her bones.

The reassurance goes over well. Sif nods after she appears from the drinking vessels again, licking foam away. "Thank you, Thor, truly. Let it be my burden to bear. He has already seen me sotted as such if the hare were any indication." A deep sigh vibrates her lips before she glances up at him. "Do not let me keep you further from your deligations. I shall be able to return to my room without trouble," the Princess maintains with a little smile. So stubborn, this one.

Loki has posed:
'Thor' doesn't dote over the powerful Valkyrie. Whether that's something real Thor would do or not, it's perhaps unclear to Loki, but he makes the choice that seems most reasonable. At least she hasn't required any secret handshakes. Thor, now on his feet, picks up the barrel again, but only moves it towards the door.

"Should you wish for tasks to keep your hands from being idle, find me or one of my advisors," he invites. "But you have done much for Asgard, handling my brother: take rest as you will." That's was more a directive from her king. With that, he gives a smile and exits.

Sif has posed:
"I shall," Sif replies to the broad-shouldered back of the King of Asgard. Then he has departed, leaving her to sit in the silent half-darkness of the empty drinking hall. She looks down at the tankard now settled between her splayed legs and sighs at it.

"Dratted drink," comes the grumpy mutter. It seems a mercy to kill the contents and the Aesir warrior does before she sets the vessel aside. The wall is extremely useful in aid to getting to her feet given her palms feel to stick it to it like a lizard ascending. A few wobbling steps means a momentary pause in the vast middle of the room and palm to her temple. "...if I see that rabbit, I will have words with it."

On that final grumble, Sif too exits the establishment and does her best to return to her rooms without fanfare.