Sif (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} thefairhaired) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} nevermore_past,@ 2013-09-30 07:12:00 |
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WHEN: The oldy Asgardian times
WHERE: Somewhere in Northern Scandinavia
WHAT: The first meeting
NOTES: Ren and I are writing this by email so I'm going to post it as it's happening.
Thor had been traveling for months. The frost was setting in but still he was not one step closer to finding this prophetess he'd been told about. As an Asgardian he was nearing his time to have a wife of his own on the throne. A god with no wife was like a man with no right hand.
He neared a farmhouse as was told by some locals. He'd approached many a farmhouse, maybe this one would be different and this woman could lead him to a suitable companion. The hammer fell to the frosted ground as he came to the door, a shock radiating off the hammer. He was hungry, tired and needed to rejuvenate. He knocked, but the jolt from the hammer alone should have made anyone within a ten mile radius take notice.
Sif had been waiting. All day she had felt that someone was coming to see her, and she had her suspicions on their purpose, but as yet they had no made an appearance. But then, at the table where she ate dinner with her son she suddenly lifted her head as though listening to an approach.
"Ullr," she said softly, and the small boy looked up from his own meal questioningly. Sif smiled at him. "Pour another bowl. We are having a guest."
Then she stood from the table just as the knock happened, walking across to answer it. She drew open the door and found that the man on the other side was a stranger, but they often were. People came to see Sif, to ask questions of her that she would answer as best she could. Sif's smile to him was gentle and inviting. The clothes she wore were much lighter than his (the single room of the house warmed by the fire sitting in its centre) and a long braid of golden hair hung over her shoulder and reached almost to her ankles.
"Come in," she said to him. "Warm yourself by the fire."
"Are you the prophetess?" he asked, lowering his head to step inside. The warmth soaked through his bones, melting any ice he'd had growing on him. The hammer he drug over to where he took a seat. He watched her. She was light-footed, soft, pleasant and a stark contrast to the burly, rugged, fur cloaked man. He had questions but he had an empty stomach which would be fixed now. He took the bowl from the boy who was as golden-haired as she.
"Are you human?" he asked her keeping an eye around the place in case anything were to attack. Not all were friendly when he came to their door.
After pouring the bowl, Ullr returned to his seat and watched the large man with interest. Sif stood at the side of the table to allow her guest to eat and said, "A prophetess I am, but as for my humanity, stranger, I'm afraid I cannot tell you this. I possess gifts and many have named me goddess before, but my own parentage is unknown to me. If it please you," Sif continued, "you may call me either god or woman. Either way, I will answer the questions you ask of me."
She had noted his glance around the room - a warrior this man, and quite clearly so, especially with his heavy weapon by his side. "No harm will come to you in my home," she assured him. "You are my guest, and it is only I and my son here."