[ lady sif has been in new york city for longer than she would like to admit. her banishment had come with more than an acceptable amount of anger, anger at odin, anger at asgard, anger at loki, because she knows that it had more to do with that god of mischief than anything. she doesn't know why, doesn't know where how, because the rumor's of loki's death had been spread and known in asgard by that time, but she knew - a deep curling in her gut, an unsettling motion in her chest. heimdall given her a reassuring nod before she had been sent off through the bifrost, before the shock of the whole ordeal had worn off, and she'd been sent. to the far reaches, to the furthest galaxy.
she knows, like she knows most thing, that heimdall had done what he could for her. and that it hadn't just been the hands of fate that left her off in mitgard. that, when she came back from the sudden shift of transportation, it was to a familiar landscape. she knows that if loki had anything to say about it, she would not have ended up here. not somewhere she knew, not somewhere so close to others who could figure this out, who could come to understand why and how and when. but she was thankful for the knowing eyes on her back, thankful that even in this time of betrayal, of being told never to come home, she could at least set foot on familiar soil.
( she had wished for thor so much in those final moments, had wished for his sudden return in hopes that maybe he could see what was happening and stop it before it got out of hand. she had known he wouldn't hear, that he wouldn't return, as his missions were important for all of asgard and the universe at large.
but still, a part of her had hoped. )
new york in and of itself was a mess. it always felt that way, when she had been here before, and the longer she spent the more it felt the truth. people, buildings, heroes, criminals, rushing around her at all times and all ways. it had taken some getting used to, as she garnered more attention than she wanted to no matter her attempts to blend in, but she managed it. it has been some time, after all, and she is nothing if not adaptable. she still hasn't been sure of her position - her interactions with the avengers every now, her understanding of the issues between tony stark and steve rogers, what has been happening, but she has an apartment. she has some steady work. she has been dealing with each day as it has come and she has missed home, desperately and wholly.
the lack of communication, truly, had been the most difficult part. she didn't know the state of her friends, the state of her home, and she didn't know - wouldn't know - unless someone found it fit to seek her out in her banishment. and maybe there was a part of her that hoped that by being at mitgard, that by being here in new york city, she would come across someone who would bring her home.
though, despite that hope, she doesn't expect her name to be called out to her over the crowds. so much that she almost doesn't even recognize it - her alias has been so different, and she's gotten so used to it, so familiar, that her name doesn't even get her attention. not at first. until she thinks, a moment or two later, that she freezes in her steps and turns back to the sound of it. she might have just heard it, the first few months she lived here in new york city she thought she heard her name everywhere, thought she saw her friends in everyone.
so when she does turn, seeing thor rushing after her, she almost doesn't believe it. ]
Wha- [ her eyes widen, still not convinced until his hands clasp over her shoulders, and he's solid, and he's there, and he's asking her about what she's doing here and that it's good to see her and she just can't. quite. ]
What happened to your hair? [ is the first question that comes out, despite her attention behind elsewhere. ] And your eye? [ she reaches out to set her hand on his cheek, her brow furrowed as she examines the patch. the spot. he looks like allfather she thinks briefly, before she jerks herself out of the thought, because he asked her a question. because he's standing in front of her and looks like he belongs, and she can't quite wrap her head around it. ]
who do you think you're even talking to
she knows, like she knows most thing, that heimdall had done what he could for her. and that it hadn't just been the hands of fate that left her off in mitgard. that, when she came back from the sudden shift of transportation, it was to a familiar landscape. she knows that if loki had anything to say about it, she would not have ended up here. not somewhere she knew, not somewhere so close to others who could figure this out, who could come to understand why and how and when. but she was thankful for the knowing eyes on her back, thankful that even in this time of betrayal, of being told never to come home, she could at least set foot on familiar soil.
( she had wished for thor so much in those final moments, had wished for his sudden return in hopes that maybe he could see what was happening and stop it before it got out of hand. she had known he wouldn't hear, that he wouldn't return, as his missions were important for all of asgard and the universe at large.
but still, a part of her had hoped. )
new york in and of itself was a mess. it always felt that way, when she had been here before, and the longer she spent the more it felt the truth. people, buildings, heroes, criminals, rushing around her at all times and all ways. it had taken some getting used to, as she garnered more attention than she wanted to no matter her attempts to blend in, but she managed it. it has been some time, after all, and she is nothing if not adaptable. she still hasn't been sure of her position - her interactions with the avengers every now, her understanding of the issues between tony stark and steve rogers, what has been happening, but she has an apartment. she has some steady work. she has been dealing with each day as it has come and she has missed home, desperately and wholly.
the lack of communication, truly, had been the most difficult part. she didn't know the state of her friends, the state of her home, and she didn't know - wouldn't know - unless someone found it fit to seek her out in her banishment. and maybe there was a part of her that hoped that by being at mitgard, that by being here in new york city, she would come across someone who would bring her home.
though, despite that hope, she doesn't expect her name to be called out to her over the crowds. so much that she almost doesn't even recognize it - her alias has been so different, and she's gotten so used to it, so familiar, that her name doesn't even get her attention. not at first. until she thinks, a moment or two later, that she freezes in her steps and turns back to the sound of it. she might have just heard it, the first few months she lived here in new york city she thought she heard her name everywhere, thought she saw her friends in everyone.
so when she does turn, seeing thor rushing after her, she almost doesn't believe it. ]
Wha- [ her eyes widen, still not convinced until his hands clasp over her shoulders, and he's solid, and he's there, and he's asking her about what she's doing here and that it's good to see her and she just can't. quite. ]
What happened to your hair? [ is the first question that comes out, despite her attention behind elsewhere. ] And your eye? [ she reaches out to set her hand on his cheek, her brow furrowed as she examines the patch. the spot. he looks like allfather she thinks briefly, before she jerks herself out of the thought, because he asked her a question. because he's standing in front of her and looks like he belongs, and she can't quite wrap her head around it. ]