Lady Sif (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fiercestwarrior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eachdraidh2014-11-21 12:49 pm
fiercestwarrior) wrote in eachdraidh2014-11-21 12:49 pm
Entry tags:
003 | video | both courts
[ Sif hits the ground with a heavy thud, the weight of the man on top of her crushing as his hands wrap around her throat. A keen eye might observe that his armour appears to be of Asgardian make, and though his features are devoid of much emotion at all at the moment it seems like the sort of face that would usually smile often. It is a face she knew so very well, once upon a time. A face that she loved. His hair is long and brown, and his cheeks and chin covered by a short beard. He doesn’t seem particularly invested in his obvious attempt to take Sif’s life, his attitude that of someone doing a minor chore that isn’t even important enough to be annoyed by. It’s just something that needs doing.
A couple of arrows lodge themselves in his back, something that doesn’t seem to bother him overmuch but it does make him look around, focus briefly on the elven warrior who fired at him. It gives Sif the opening she needed, and gathering what strength remains to her she throws her attacker off, scrambling to reach her sword that lies abandoned on the ground.
The scream that tears its way out of her when she severs the man’s head from his shoulders is not a sound of rage, it is a cry of pain too great to bear, of grief beyond measure.
This isn't a memory, not quite. It is merely a reminder of what she has lost. Of what she had to let go of. Of what she had to be <I>prepared</I> to do. Six hundred years, and suddenly the pain is as fresh as if it all happened yesterday.
As the head rolls away, it is suddenly apparent that it is not the head of a man at all, and the body at Sif’s feet is that of a big dog, not an Asgardian warrior. Wiping at her eyes, she turns to the elven soldier and gives him a nod of gratitude and respect. ]
You have my thanks. Tell the torch-carriers to burn this body.
[ Other soldiers carrying torches are already heading to two more bodies, dealt with by the squad lent to her by Thranduil, They are not within the walls of Caer Glaem, but they can be seen in the near distance.
.
She sees her locket on the ground and picks it up, frowning to find that it is broadcasting. Hopefully what ends up on the network is nothing more than the sky, she thinks as she clicks it shut. ]
A couple of arrows lodge themselves in his back, something that doesn’t seem to bother him overmuch but it does make him look around, focus briefly on the elven warrior who fired at him. It gives Sif the opening she needed, and gathering what strength remains to her she throws her attacker off, scrambling to reach her sword that lies abandoned on the ground.
The scream that tears its way out of her when she severs the man’s head from his shoulders is not a sound of rage, it is a cry of pain too great to bear, of grief beyond measure.
This isn't a memory, not quite. It is merely a reminder of what she has lost. Of what she had to let go of. Of what she had to be <I>prepared</I> to do. Six hundred years, and suddenly the pain is as fresh as if it all happened yesterday.
As the head rolls away, it is suddenly apparent that it is not the head of a man at all, and the body at Sif’s feet is that of a big dog, not an Asgardian warrior. Wiping at her eyes, she turns to the elven soldier and gives him a nod of gratitude and respect. ]
You have my thanks. Tell the torch-carriers to burn this body.
[ Other soldiers carrying torches are already heading to two more bodies, dealt with by the squad lent to her by Thranduil, They are not within the walls of Caer Glaem, but they can be seen in the near distance.
.
She sees her locket on the ground and picks it up, frowning to find that it is broadcasting. Hopefully what ends up on the network is nothing more than the sky, she thinks as she clicks it shut. ]