9773/Apples and Horses

Apples and Horses
Date of Scene:	26 October 2019
Location:	Asgard Palace, Asgard
Synopsis:	Loki meets Sif's pegasus, Typhon.
Cast of Characters:	Sif, Loki

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Sif has posed:
Typhon is again being a handful. As such, the stablemaster has again requested Sif come and deal with the recalcitrant pegasus. The Valkyrie knows he's probably aching to stretch his wings, but she hasn't had the time to indulge the poor feathered horse in it what with the Homebringer's Feast and other related gatherings since the restoration of Asgard.

Bugling welcome to his rider, the pearly-white horse then whips his head around to snap at the stablehand attempting to walk past the stall. His flat teeth slam shut audibly and the poor young Asgardian yelps.

"Typhon!" Sif's voice, not overly loud but firm, carries before the stretch of her shadow. Her silvery armor gently rings on itself before she comes to a halt before his stall. "You are not acting the gentleman. Hmm?" Thinning her lips and lifting her eyebrows, she gives the pegasus a Look. He simply shoves his flat pate against her sternum with enough affectionate force to make her 'oof'.

"He is my concern now, move along if you'd like," she comments to the stablehand who just about lopes past the pegasus now that he's distracted. Poor guy.

Loki has posed:
The stable isn't Loki's favorite place. The mud and dirt doesn't mesh with his immaculate appearance that he always prefers to put on around Asgard Palace and related areas. There's a peacocking that he does, as if smudges would lower in him the eyes of others in some way. Loki's always had a great sense for being posh and elegant.

Loki does appear, though, at the side of the stable after the stablehand leaves, observing Sif's interactiong with Typhon with an amused, sly expression.

Materializing from one hand appears an apple -- not a golden one of course, just a brilliant red one-- and he plays with it, tossing it once and flipping it around his long, elegant fingers, as if to tease the Pegasus with the magically glowing treat.

Sif has posed:
How to resist an apple? Typhon certainly can't. Those dish-like ears flick forwards immediately after his pale eye catches sight of the fruit and he pulls the plate of his cheeks free of Sif's gently-rubbing hands to lean out of the stall towards the apple.

Not Loki, the apple.

Bemused, it makes the pegasus's rider glance over to see the mage-Prince there. Her laugh ripples out even as she takes a diagonal step away from the winged horse now lipping at empty air.

"You've got the trick of it. He might actually come to like you if you feed him regularly. But please, be mindful, he must be kept lean and not turn into a barrel-bodied pony," Sif asks with a smirk. "What brings you to the stables, my lord?" The minute tilt of her head brings her long dark braid to fall into view.

Loki has posed:
"I'm bored," Loki says, directly and without preamble. There's a flat honesty to it that sometimes feels 'off' when Loki does it. You lie sweetly so much that lies feel like truth and truth feels like the lie. Loki rotates the apple again, multiples it with a trickle of magic in his fingers, and tosses the apple to Sif.

"Better he like you best, I think," Loki answers, coming around now, in a slink behind Sif as if he were orbiting her, on the far side of the Pegasus. Loki, though, still has the other apple, and looks down at it with his head tilted, picking some bit of nothing off the perfect sheen of the fruit.

"I am entering no Pegasus popularity contests," Loki smirks. His mood is a little bit all over the place: which is suggestive of the boredom being the true culprit. He can become fiesty if he doesn't have something to do that he wants to do.

Sif has posed:
A soft smack of impact means Sif's caught the apple. It disappears into the pink lips of the pegasus much to his delight. His large head retreats away into the rather sumptuous stall he's been granted as one of the Valkyrie's steeds; his hindquarters are now presented. It makes Sif snort and roll her eyes before she turns to look fully at Loki.

"I think it wise to join no contest, yes. Typhon is a fickle being. But bored, is it? You have not spoken to your brother as of late?" Her glacially-blue eyes look between his now, eyebrows lifted. "He took time away from his current duties as King to speak with me at the training grounds of our courting."

Loki has posed:
"That was not the entertainment I was seeking when I said I was bored," Loki laughs, as Thor is mentioned. "He is going out of his way to flatter me, I think; perhaps to manipulate me in some way," Loki says, as if that amused him, and he found it mildly charming. Like a child trying to tell a joke. Best to be patient with the attempt, really.

"To speak to you about it? Of course he did," Loki says, but he comes towards her now, and offers her the second apple. The offer also comes with him getting close physically, his body close enough to brush her side and arm if she doesn't retreat.

"What did King Thor have to say, then?" Loki asks, with a smile that suggests it might not matter. It does matter, though.

Sif has posed:
With a pleased little smile, Sif takes the offered apple and looks it over with muted delight. Given its magical birth, its skin is glossy nearly on par with a jewel. She holds to her chest in order to step too into Loki's space, enough that she might lean her weight subtly against him in turn, armor and all. An angled turn of her head attempts to rest her temple briefly against the mage's high cheebonek in another quiet gesture of affection.

"He sought to hear from my lips what rumors did not impress upon him. Apparently, he observed behavior he had not seen from either of us before at the Feast." She remains where she is in Loki's shadow now. The Valkyrie's eyes wander away along the stable's flooring and towards the arched doorway, broad enough to allow three horses to pass through without their handlers bumping shoulders.

"He wished us joy." A laugh escapes her quietly before she lifts her face to look into Loki's eyes again. "I admit, I was taken aback by his direct nature, but I should not have been. He is ever forthright. I am thankful he chose to use tact and speak to me away from the Einherjar recruits. You would be surprised, Loki. I suspect a few of them would claim jealousy." Her smile deepens.

Loki has posed:
"Surprised? No. Many have sought you, like some sort of prize, princess," Loki answers her, a tease in his tone. And perhaps a competitive note in his voice, though his next comment rather directly turns that on it's head:

"Though I feel to some degree it is /you/ that has worked so hard to win me. For I am, most certainly, the best of prizes," Loki snickers, adjusting his position so as to not get stabbed in the chest by the edge of her shoulder armor, but instead to fit against her just so, more comfortably. He turns his head to brush lips against her upper forehead near her hair, and his lips moving in more of a smile he's concealing there, yet she may easily feel.

"Thor, tact? Hmm. Did you suspect it was me, pretending to be Thor?" Loki asks elusively, playing. He /did/ say he was bored. This could be an interesting game.

Sif has posed:
Rolling the apple across her fingers before her chest, Sif idly watches its movements and light play across its outside skin. Her tone is rife with courtly amusement, the type of nonchalance used in direct parry to Loki's teasing.

"I did not suspect Thor was you, no." She can feel the shape of his lips curling and mirrors it unconsciously, her gaze still upon the apple. "He was far more..." Struggling to explain the delicate nuances of behavior, the Valkyrie decides simply, "I could tell it was your brother and not you. He did not ask after rumors nor did he care to. You would ask, I think, to keep your fingertip upon the pulse of the court."

Raising the fruit to her lips, Sif inhales to catch its sweet scent. "And yes, Loki, you are astute. I did work to win you," she murmurs before taking a bite of the apple.

Loki has posed:
"When I am interested in the pulse of the court, I do not turn to inquiry with, or as, Thor," Loki confides. The roll of his eyes is in his voice, but the smile remains. He is near the edge of her hair, above her ear, aware of the scent of her, more than any scent of magical apple.

"And I think... we are to a place where I would rather take measure of your response to me as myself," Loki says, voice drawing comfortably, smoothly. Manipulatively? Maybe, but not all manipulation is for dark causes. Sometimes it is just pleasantly seductive. He draws one arm up, against her middle back against her cloak.

Sif has posed:
Sif steps further into his space upon the invitation of an arm about her back. The gentle weight of its presence is comfortable and pleasant, sheltering in a way the Valkyrie hasn't allowed herself to consider for nigh on centuries.

"I would rather it be yourself, yes," she replies in a softer voice she uses rarely enough, though more increasingly as of late around the mage-Prince. "After all, I worked quite hard to entice your attentions, did I not?" As a cat might seek affection, the rest of her head subtly increases even as it rotates against his cheek.

In his stall, Typhon lifts his head from nibbling at the bale of dried grasses available to him and considers Loki with one pale eye. The pegasus chews on...but man, is there some judging going on.

Loki has posed:
"We'll need," Loki begins, lifting other hand to rap on her heavy shoulder pauldron, "to do something about these, if I continue to ambush you at 'work'," Loki determines, smirking a little. He turns his hand against it, with a softer brush of nose near her ear, a tease of lip to the lobe. "Mind if I move this?" Loki asks, teasingly, and deliberately /asking/. He doesn't often ask about many things, but there's an anticipation he's aware of from asking, from approaching it from a side of respect.

He does notice Typhon, but the horse-bird can judge and stare all he likes, additional apples can win the creature later, no doubt, if necessary! Bribes work.

Sif has posed:
As she turns to consider the source of the small musical ring -- ah, her pauldron -- it brings Sif to break the connection of affection at their temples. Yet again, her laugh ripples up.

"And here I thought them quite comfortable! It must be those edges I always hear about in court," she muses in a momentary shift into dry and dessicated humor just as quickly dismissed on the next breeze. "Yes, Loki, you may. If they could return to my room, please, should you wish to dismiss them entirely?" She must mean literally magic the pieces of armor from her shoulders by the polite request in turn.

Typhon turns in his stall, wings folded tightly to his sides, and then reaches his head out to sniff towards Sif again. There is another apple, after all, missing a single bite. Lips get to weebling silently in the usual manner of his begging.

Loki has posed:
"Hm. Might be more /interesting/ to magic us, instead of the pauldrons," Loki says with a sickly little smirk in his voice, a tone of play. It's lending more assertive than before: since the more open agreement of courtship, Loki has been more willing to open up the vault doors a little further, to imply more things safely.

Still, he does what she suggested, instead, drawing magic across the armor, a weave of bright white, and sends it away. "Might be in my quarters, come to think of it," Loki adds. She'll have to come find it. He turns some to step more to her now that the armor is gone, a comfortable embrace. Loki's clothes are supple and comfortable both to wear and lean into, his cloak a little bulky in green wool, but easy to push back and find the mage under it.

Sif has posed:
Her eyes twinkle. Sif ducks her head for a second, charmed and pinking just a little at the ears at the Trickster's insinuation. Movements in her peripheral makes her glance over to see Typhon begging yet again. When she spreads her arms slightly upon the feeling of swift and warm magic washing over her body, he easily snags the red-skinned apple from her palm without even a passing risk of teeth against the Valkyrie's skin. Content, the Pegasus turns again in his stall -- neener-neener, got your apple. His rider rolls her eyes indulgently at him before returning her attention to the mage.

"If my armor in in your quarters, Loki, I do hope you'll take good care of it. It is used to quality care in deft hands," she teases back comfortably in return. Slipping beneath the cloak, her palms make to circle about his waist and rest at Loki's lower back. Back her temple goes to press against his cheek; he'll feel Sif's ribs rise and fall in a content, quieted sigh.

Loki has posed:
Either Loki saw her pinking, or felt it, or guessed, but he's teasing in his response as she ducks her head a little. "Only to relax in comfort, lacking of eyes that will create MORE rumors for Thor to need to investigate so bluntly," Loki assures her evenly. Nothing untoward, of course: he is courting her, and the Asgardians are hardly tactless or overly speedy with such things!

"Well, it will be waiting for you, just as you left it... unless I decide to enchant it," Loki says, tone smooth, in his tempting manner. This is the same manner he uses to coax favors with: if he enchants it, what does he get? A favor? Loki enjoys his favors.

As she moves to hug and step into him, he smiles elusively, and comfortably holds her there. There's no attempts for a kiss now; it's just a quiet, comfortable thing: something both of the outcasts didn't, perhaps, realize they wanted... or needed.