I am the Lady Sif, born a goddess and forged a warrior...
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Goddess Of War ...::: Sif Aridottir
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Things appeared to calm down once again, despite the disconcerting flurry of activity on the prison level. Sif, however, was far from calm, herself. Freyja soon departed upon the war goddess' request that she retrieve Sigyn, clearly displeased that she was agreeing to do so. Behind her Sif overheard Lady Hill speaking with the young woman who had followed Ryon back to the stronghold, hearing the woman's offer to help, as well as Hill's reluctant agreement. Sif watched momentarily as she ventured through the door of the glass prison and to where SHIELD's healers still worked, before she turned her attention away to Fray, hearing the young man speak up and state, rather correctly, that explanations for what she'd just witnessed moments before would be in order. ”Yes, I believe they certainly are...” she uttered in agreement, welcoming the conversation as a brief reprieve from everything else. The war goddess showed no visible caution as she approached the young Aesir, clearly unafraid of Fray despite what she'd just witnessed; if there was any chance of her former student harming her, intentionally or not, he'd had more than enough opportunity in the past. She did not expect him to do so now.
The war goddess, admittedly, had suspected some relation to Banner upon seeing Fray's transformation, even before Fray had confirmed it; she knew of no other, Aesir or Midgardian, that possessed that manner of power. How she was only learning of it now, she did not know. The physicist and fellow comrade had never mentioned being a parent in the past, and Fray's mother had always been silent as to the identity of her child's father. Sif listened on, unable to entirely hide the faint expression of shock on her face spoke of his mother in particular. Sif had gotten to know Fray's mother fairly well in the years that the boy had been her student. She'd heard the other woman's own vague accounts, known that Fray had been a difficult child to carry; she had never mentioned how close she, and likely her son as well, had come to dying. His mother had always been so hesitant with him, protective to the point that it made many question her; it had taken some time for Sif herself to gain the woman's trust where Fray was concerned. And now it was clear as to why. It saddened her to think that the Aesir might have shunned him, feared him even, if they'd known what he was capable of, but admittedly, a number of their past actions had not exactly argued in their favor.
Yet there was a brief instant of dreaded realization when he turned and spoke to Zayne of how he'd held back in their countless sparring matches; realization that either one of her own children could have been seriously hurt in their matches with him if he'd not had control of his strength, and gratitude that he did have that control, as he'd obviously proven even before she or Zayne had known the truth. Sif quickly buried the instinctual fear for her own children's safety, knowing in her mind it was long unwarranted, now; ”You need never worry about that, dear Fray” she assured him with a faint smile; "we've not had need to fear you before, and surely have none now."
As Fray stated his reasoning for venturing to Midgard, however, Sif's expression became an unreadable one. She looked back to the glass prison, saying nothing in response. It came as little surprise that the All-Father had given Fray such orders, and she would be the last to question them; She'd long had a notion of how this war would end; the goddess herself would, and had vowed to, resort to the same measures if needs arose, without a moment's hesitation. Yet to hear Fray say it only added a sense of finality to the situation. “Banner does not know of this; of you...” she spoke instead after a pause, a statement rather than a question; she still could not recall the man mentioning any children of his own, before... ”but he should be glad to meet you, I think.”
In spite of SHIELD's caution as well as her own, Loki still did not so much as stir. There seemed to be no sign of improvement; the Midgardians' monitors turned out the same slow rhythm in time with his still-worrying pulse, though it was noticeably steadier than it had been moments before; each breath he took was no less shallow, and he appeared no less pale and ill than when he'd been brought in. In purging the venom itself, the stranger had prevented it from causing any further, likely fatal damage, but only SHIELD's healers had any knowledge of the state of his injuries that, by the woman's account, still were not mending as they should. Or the extent of the damage the poison had already wrought in the ample time it had spread through his veins. ”I fear that it may be the best that can be done, for now” she said to the young woman, ”thank you.” It was still a wonder, given the venom's source, that the trickster god still lived and breathed at all; Sif hardly expected him to fully recover any time soon, by his own strength alone. Certainly not enough to pose a great threat. Yet it was the unnerving number of others who'd ventured in and out of the room that kept her where she stood, concerned that an incident could occur in a place where their unconscious prisoner certainly had no shortage of enemies.
The war goddess heard another voice, much younger and childlike in pitch, coming from the doorway just moments before a small child rushed across the room in a hurry, stopping before the transparent walls of the prison and pressing her hands against the glass. Immediately she turned to Lady Hill, as if to inquire an explanation of some sort, before the small girl's next word's registered; “daddy why are you sleeping, it's not bed time yet!”
Unless it was some manner of illusion, as Loki's daughter was infamous for, the girl was far to young in appearance to be Hel. So then who...
Zayne was the first to step forward, speaking to the young girl with familiarity and attempting to coax her away from the glass cell. Enya Lokidottir; Sif watched her daughter's attempt to distract the girl with quiet caution, not certain what to think of the girl, and also not wishing to crowd and possibly indimidate her.
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status: well | mood: on guard | location: Westchester Base, Prison Levels | company: Maria/Loki/Fray/Zayne/Ragnarok/Enya/Suzumi
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... I have been baptized in the tears of my enemies,
and their children's children fear my name.
