Thor was sitting. He hated to just sit but he needed to breathe, to think. He had enjoyed the start of the battle, as he always had, but as it drew out and it felt as if there was no immediate sign of winning or even making what others considered a dent...he was tired. His spirit came and went and as he sat, crouched and ready to spring, Mjolnir on his knees, he looked to Sif and nodded. There was only so much lightning he could call. Only so many swings he could make.
"I know," he agreed as the red color filled the room and then passed by. It reminded him of emergency signals, warning signs, and lighthouse beacons with the way it seemed to sweep periodically. Thor watched it dissipate before turning and kneeling at Sif's side, Mjolnir's base now on the floor with his hand tight around the handle.
"I think you should go," he told her in a hurried hush. "I will distract it while you get to the safe house." Despite his words his eyes betrayed him. Sif was his best warrior, the best they had on this island no doubt, and he did not want to send her off. He then sighed. "Get them, tell them where I am, see what they have for backup. I'm sure they're spread thin. There are only so many on this isle that can fight."