all_inclusive | Gathering: Kisses at Midnight

Sif had been a surprise. Sometimes she dogged his thoughts; sometimes he completely forgot about her. He wasn't sure what status she had been, to him, when he ran into her at the party, either forgotten or fondly remembered; all he knew was that, for the moment, he was pleased to see her, as he usually was. While she could be aggravating, she did not stir up any immediate emotions of dissent within moments, as his brother often did.

And at any rate, they were deep into their cups now, as the saying went. It was refreshing to have someone to drink with who could keep up, even if she got a bit rowdy (but he was used to that, after being raised a prince of Asgard, where everyone got rowdy eventually, including him). The evening, the idea of a new year, barely registered with him. Like Christmas, it just seemed an excuse for everyone to make merry, and he supposed he was thawing a bit. Being away from Midgard, where he had dug in, helped with that. The hotel was more rejuvenating, and so was Sif.

“So,” he said, taking away her empty cup and putting his own, full one in her hand, motioning to waitstaff for refills. “Pirates?”

[closed to Sif! ;)]

This entire celebration was still alien to Sif, who had taken to asking around and decided that it had begun as the birth celebration of one of Midgard's deities, then had evolved (or devolved?) into a family-centered celebration heavily reliant on committing excesses and spending a lot of coin proving to others that they were important. There was also the part where they liked to commit even more excesses to mark the passing of another year, which seemed to Sif as an act of desperation from those who did not have many to celebrate in the first place - but then, that was her Asgardian-centric view talking. She tried not to make it known too much these days.

In any case, eventually she had stopped trying to make sense of it and had dove right into celebrating like others did. It was lucky that she had returned from her travels when she did, truthfully, as it was certainly not the winter solstice anywhere near her ship. There was probably not even a winter. There had been a lot of merry making, a lot of heart-warming moments with newfound (though perhaps not so new now) Midgardian friends, and now here she was, celebrating the year's end with none other than Loki, whom she had not seen in months. Again.

The passing of time seemed to deter them none, however, as they fell into easy conversation and ages-old teasing right away, this time with even more drink than usual. She took his cup with a grin, cheeks reddened from the staggering amount of alcohol she had already ingested. "Adventurers. We do not steal and we do not conquer, we explore." At least they did now. Sif took a sip of her drink. "But yes. Pirates. And what have you been doing while I was off adventuring?"

“So converted pirates,” Loki amended. He gently touched the back of her wrist, browned from sailing, before he was distracted by a man handing him two glasses. It was a show of Loki's drunkenness that he hadn't even been paying attention to the approach. The wait staff at this place had to have become accustomed to serving Asgardians and other such creatures, who drank more than their fair share. But at least that way Loki only ever had to order his preferred drink once during a whole evening. "I see you've become accustomed to the tropical sunlight by now, however."

He gave her a toothy, teasing grin, because he would never get tired of prodding at her, though he did gentle his approach somewhat. Besides, she did the same thing in turn. “I was off adventuring,” he answered. “Naturally.”

Edited 2015-01-02 04:14 (UTC)

"Indeed!" Sif exclaimed, swaying slightly. She immediately noticed her voice sounding raspier than usual, which had to be the drink. Entirely not on purpose, Sif cleared her throat quite loudly as Loki touched her wrist, then attempted to pretend she hadn't noticed the two two happenings overlapping by looking to the waiter with a lopsided grin. "Oh, yes. I have freckles in places I did not know I could gain freckles in." And her skin had even stopped peeling now, hurrah!

While in the back of her mind Sif couldn't help thinking Loki's brand of adventuring had to be a lot less innocuous than hers, she gave a little laugh all the same. She leaned in to look him over, eyes narrowed. "Naturally. Nowhere sunny, though, I suppose."

"I'm sure your freckles are just as intimidating as your lengthy list of battle scars," Loki said, dryly. A fair-skinned, delicate maiden she was not, even when she had not been under an open sky, atop a glaring sea. She had never been quite as pale as he, but there weren't that many shades between them normally.

"Morocco has quite a bit of sun, actually," he replied, leaning in slightly and raising his eyebrows. "Though you'd be correct in assuming I'm mostly active at night. Nocturnal pursuits are rather more my style these days." Morocco, Mexico, Tokyo, Tasmania - so many places in a single world he found himself traveling through. Sometimes he had company, like Natasha. Others he trekked alone. He would bring Sif, if he could trust her not to interfere too much - but, really, she was not useful to him, and that was what he needed. She would not help him, he didn't think, not like Natasha would. She would fight against him, at least until she accepted him and his grand design.

But that was too heavy, too complicated, for him to concern himself with at the moment. Instead, as usual, he preferred to enjoy her present company.

"My, Loki, thank you for the reassurance. I was unsure whether I looked as intimidating and unapproachable as I used to." Sif replied, emotionless and dry. She did not need to be intimidating all over, at all times. In fact, the more time she spent with the likes of Natasha and Steve, the more she came to appreciate the other ways of achieving your objective. Not that she would trade her training and skill in battle for anything, but it was good to have options.

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows, albeit in surprise. Morocco? She would refrain from asking exactly why someone like Loki would go adventuring there, specifically, but Sif couldn't deny a slight hint of curiosity. "Ah, yes. Wouldn't want to ruin your carefully maintained paleness, as it would work against the whole entrancing mysterious..." When words failed her, Sif knew she was well over the point of no return as far as drunkenness was concerned. It was also apparent by her gesticulating hands as she spoke. "...semblance."

Downing yet another glass - no point in slowing down now - Sif crossed her arms loosely in front of her chest. "You should still come sailing with me, if you've a mind." She had no real idea why she would issue such an invitation, as she doubted he would enjoy himself as much as she did at the bow, wind and ocean water slapping at her face, sometimes so much she could taste the salt in her tongue. But some part of her considered she might like him around, possibly making sarcastic remarks about the wrong ways in which she enjoyed her free time. Putting it like that, perhaps Sif simply enjoyed being miserable sometimes. When Loki was around.

Loki pressed his hand to his chest and smiled, as if taking all of her words to heart. She seemed joyful, less serious than usual, and he liked it and wasn't about to try to drag her from it. All too often, somberness from Sif's end tended to mutate into too-complicated discussions, and while Loki was a fan of wordplay most of the time, just then he was tired of verbal sparring. A little bit of prodding, of course, was never a bad thing. Of course, he was guilty of being morose himself, but he was learning to reign it in at the moment. Besides, there was too much of life to look forward to.

He laughed when she trailed off, shaking his head. Dragging his fingers through his hair - which, according to his mother, was entirely too long - he took a long drink from his cup. "Carefully maintained, yes," he said. "Entrancing? The jury is out on that one, as they say."

The invitation to go sailing surprised him, and he grinned. "Oh?" he asked. As long as he was assured of returning in a somewhat timely fashion - well. Perhaps that was what he needed, an extended separation from the infinity stones. Would going through another door help? Even without the Tesseract in the hotel, the sceptre he still kept with him when he came through, and it was more than draining by itself. "I just might. It depends, though. I won't swab any decks. I demand a spot at the wheel."

With all the serious, heavy discussions they had been having recently, (not to mention all that came before that as far as the two of them were concerned), a light smile from Loki seemed like one of the Christmas miracles Sif had heard so much about. In fact, the lightness of this entire conversation did. Sif found herself smiling back, ending up chucking lightly into yet another empty glass. This time it was her who signaled the waiter for a refill.

"Not this jury." She found herself almost-muttering-but-not-quite. It was hard to control one's voice's volume when this intoxicated, Asgardian immortal being or not.

Loki seemed surprised by her invitation, which prompted Sif to shrug her shoulders with open arms as if her invitation was the only logical thing to happen after their discussion on adventuring. Feeling a tap on her shoulder Sif half-twirled around to exchange her empty glass for a freshly filled one, and then motioning for the waiter to extend Loki the same courtesy. "You will not be captain of my own vessel but I hope you can be satisfied with the position of illustrious guest. And you may stand at the bow with me, if you so choose."

Loki gave her a look, amused and bemused. Sometimes she complimented him, and for some reason he found it odd, even though he had no problem bestowing similar comments upon her. Perhaps because Sif's beauty was a popular topic and a well-renowned fact back home, while he was less likely to be spoken of in such a complimentary manner, whether on his physical traits or otherwise. Really, he did consider Sif's attractiveness to usually be more a statement of fact than anything else; and he found her equally beautiful in a gown or after twelve straight hours of training in the sun. Loki noticed decoration, but despite his lies he had an eye for the truth in things.

"I think the festivities have lightened your spirit," he said, idly, though definitely not disapprovingly.

He made sure his glass was empty by downing it before accepting the new one, and wondered just how drunk Sif was. For himself, he would still be able to walk in a straight line if need be, but really only after some fierce concentration. They hadn't begun as a drinking contest, but from what he could tell they had matched drink for drink. "I would never suggest being captain," he said. "Honored guest suits me just fine. If I wanted to be captain I would have to overthrow you and, my darling Sif, I am far too kindly for that."

Yes, that look was exactly what she deserved after her indiscretion. It was a lot softer than what she would have given herself, were she looking in a mirror. Rolling her eyes - at herself, not Loki - Sif exhaled through her nose and focused on making sure her braided tiara was still in place - as though it could possibly go anywhere with the amount of pins holding it there. At the mention of her lightened spirits, however, Sif dropped her hands and smiled. "As they have done yours, I think."

'Quite drunk' would not have done her justice, but neither was she about to black out onto a hard surface and stay 'dead' for hours, which Sif would take as a good sign at the moment. A chuckle escaped her at Loki's reason for not overthrowing her and she edged closer, a saucy smirk on her lips as she poked at his chest with a single digit. "You, my darling Loki, wouldn't stand a chance. Have you ever heard of the term 'walking the plank'? Because you would."

"They might have," Loki said, with a smirk. Fiona had already playfully accused him of assimilating, which he'd been forced to admit might have been true. Even then he was wearing one of the cleanly cut, sharp-pointed suits he was fond of wearing when around Midardians. He had been tempted out of comfort to change back into garb more suited to his former Asgardian tastes, but had resisted; it was a party, so what was one more day? Besides, he had a feeling Sif was not averse to his suits, even though they made him look even thinner than he usually did. Or maybe that was why. Who knew.

When she leaned in close to him, he gave her a sly smile, barely reacting to the jab at his chest. "See, now I'm tempted to try to overthrow you," he said. "Or maybe you already knew that would happen. Maybe... you wanted me to walk the plank all along. How sneaky of you."

Sif generally had no issue with Loki's Midgardian fashion choices; in fact she quite appreciated some of them. He also had not seemed bothered by the difference between the dresses she usually wore in Asgard on special occasions and the much simpler, asymmetric red one she was sporting right now, so who was she to judge? Assimilation, she had found, wasn't always a bad thing if done willingly, through no exterior pressure.

"Don't you dare, I do not wish to become your enemy. Ever again." Sif then refrained from making a remark on one's true nature and what to expect from the likes of him - which would only be uncalled for, petty and not at all in conformity with her current mood, even if only in reference to how tempted he felt. She couldn't help a genuine chuckle from escaping her at his marvelous reasoning, however. "If I wished to throw you into the ocean I would bring you onto the ship and simply do so, Loki. No need to do it at sword-point off a plank of wood. Besides, what would that accomplish? You would just be wet while snarling something about what a petty, childish brute I am."

Loki's smile, originally sly, wavered slightly at the slightly serious response she had for him, but he quickly brushed it away. He was far too inebriated to get hung up on it, and Loki was not sensitive enough to find harm in her wording these days anyway. He felt too sure of himself, less questioning, to really find flaw.

"I suppose that's true," he admitted, when she said she would simply throw him in. She could accomplish it easily enough, even without a crew of her pirates - adventurers - to back her up. Loki could hold his own against Sif for a time, if he wanted to, but really he'd much rather give in and let her lob him into the ocean than spend all of that energy fighting her off (only to end up in the ocean anyway). That probably didn't say much for the Asgardian conquering spirit, but he didn't care.

He paused, looking at her closely for a moment, and then absently wiped a speck of glitter from her arm. It was all over the place, these past few days. It was a popular decoration tactic, but was completely uncontrollable. "They keep shouting the time," he mused. "They're awfully concerned with the last few hours of a year that they probably didn't pay much attention to."

In truth Sif had not meant for that response to sound so serious as she was simply, in her own direct way, reiterating how much Loki's friendship meant to her now she had regained it. Of course were she a lot more sober she would have realized the intensity of her words had been a lot greater than she had intended.

"I am certain I have told you this before, Loki," Sif began, with a satisfied smirk, "but your self-awareness does you credit." She was almost certain she had told him this before in similar circumstances, no less.

Looking down at where Loki had brushed something off on her arm, Sif frowned. "It's glitter isn't it? I've had it on my skin for days. Everything is glittery now, is it a holiday custom, do you know?" She looked around as he remarked on people's compulsion for telling the time out loud to one another, sometimes to the room. "They don't wish to be caught unawares by midnight, so I'm told. Midnight is when everything happens, apparently. They hold onto it like magic, like other than cosmically and in their calendars, a cycle is truly ending and another beginning, with clear though invisible change."

Sif had looked away as she considered this, and after a moment looked back up at Loki with a smile. "New chances, I think. New beginnings. They love those." As her eyes descended slightly from his face, Sif's smile turned into a soft laugh. She stepped forward, brushing glitter from the collar of his jacket. "Another victim of the glitter epidemic. Is no one truly safe?"

He shrugged, slightly, and toasted her with his glass, nearly empty again. Loki's self-awareness had certainly been his curse, at some point, though if that was part of the credit she was speaking of he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

"I believe they find glitter festive," he said, dryly. "Mm, well. A lot of them don't seem to understand that you can create a new beginning at any time. There needn't be a significant change in the calendar in order to start something. Or finish, for that matter. All I can really gather, though, is that after midnight everyone just goes to sleep." He gave her a crooked grin, and shrugged again, feeling loose-limbed, relaxed. Pleasantly drunk. But not too drunk not to appreciate Sif's eloquence.

He glanced down at the glitter with some chagrin, but he wasn't surprised; more like he was distracted by the sudden warmth of her nearing body, the brush of her hand. Yes; he was definitely drunk. "Maybe you're getting it on me," he teased with a straight face. He cast his gaze upward, as if he suspected it might be drifting down, like snow. "Speaking of things starting at midnight," he mused. "I heard there were fireworks. Shall we find a place to sit before then? Or simply get out of the way?"

After that toast, which amused Sif greatly, she emptied her glass again. It was with regret that she found it so. The waiter had not been around for long minutes and with this place getting more or less full, he might not come around any time soon. "Oh it is rather festive. But at what cost?!" Drunken Sif, apparently, had a penchant for the overly dramatic once in a while.

It pleased her to hear Loki talking so, however, and while he spoke Sif tilted her head and regarded him with the softest look and just a hint of a smile. That all changed at his closing remark. "Well, that's disappointing. Seems to me midnight should mark the middle of the celebration, not its end. What, you celebrate a new year and then goodnight see you tomorrow?" Sif shook her head. "Wasted potential."

"I barely touched you, how could it have been me?" Sif retorted after gasping at the suggestion, as though being blamed for glitter transference was a great offense. Despite the glitter being taken care of she did not move away, finding herself comfortable so close to Loki. Truly, she must be halfway out of her mind. She followed his gaze upward, mildly concerned about getting glitter in her eye. There was a certain dizziness to looking up like that, but Sif found she liked it. When Loki spoke again she snapped out of it, blinking. "Perhaps we might find a way to do both? I'd like to see the fireworks, but I don't know if it isn't something to be seen away from a large group of drunken, loud people. It's loud enough without the people."

Loki just laughed. It wasn't that Sif was always very serious - far from that, when it came to a party she could be the most reckless out of all of them if it suited her - simply that she very rarely veered into silly territory. It wasn't a bad thing, but difficult to reply to. The suggestion of midnight marking the middle of the party was easier to address. "Are you suggesting we should try to last until, at the very least, four in the morning? That would make sense, if the party started at eight..." he trailed off, and sighed dramatically, as if he had seen a real block in the road. "Maybe we should have drunk a bit more slowly."

They were already so close, it was easy for him to slip his arm around hers. It was not unusual for him to take a woman's arm, lately, but he wasn't sure how Sif would like it. In any case, if she didn't she could just squirm free, and no harm done. "There is a lot of sky," he said. "I'm certain we can find a spot that also has a view. Let's go look. Then there will just be two loud, drunken people to contend with, and luckily we can tell one another to shut up."

Navigating through the crowd was difficult, or would be if Loki was the sort to dodge around people. Luckily, his height and general lack of care meant he could manage it with Sif easily enough.

Pantomime had never been Sif's forte, but here she was more or less aware of her own dramatics and more than willing to laugh with Loki at them. She hadn't gotten rowdy or violent yet, which was unusual but not unexpected - she was in a completely different environment after all. "But it didn't, so we should stay later." She insisted, shrugging carelessly as Loki lamented their drinking speed. "We can handle it."

Sif couldn't help a slight stiffness as Loki slipped his arm around hers. It was not only unusual, but virtually unheard of, which meant it took a little time getting used to. In truth, what was more shocking was how close they had been that he had simply done it as if it was a natural, everyday occurrence. More shocking still was how she not only did not mind, but welcomed the warmth of him so close to her.

"Agreed." Sif took to walking contentedly with him through the crowd with her best battle-stare: an intimidating far-off gaze, deadset on her faraway goal. It worked perfectly with Loki's imposing stature and demeanor. "What we should do, however, is snag ourselves a few bottles for when we get there." She had learnt a thing or two from Olaf, how could she not?

Sif didn't shake him off, so he figured it was fine to continue as they were. While he knew that Sif was more closed off than the other women he knew, physically - though entertainingly, she had no problem being in personal space when it came to wrestling - there was no harm in it. He was used to taking Natasha in arm, though that was part of their odd relationship, where they used pretense with one another to dig down for the truth. Sif, who had known him for so long, was somehow more complicated.

It also did not escape him that as of late he had become more prone to surrounding himself with women, but that had not been a conscious maneuver. "Agreed," he repeated, reaching out and grabbing up, one-handed, the foil-wrapped necks of two bottles from a table as they passed. As midnight neared - and from what he could tell, it was quite close - the tables and trays began to crowd with sparkling wine. Another custom of the celebration.

When you spent centuries keeping someone at a distance, and some of those keeping certain confusing feelings for that person at a distance, something like this could be confusing. If not for inebriation, it would certainly be so for Sif. This was like breaking down the invisible wall there had always been between them and skipping right over to the other side - not something Sif did so carelessly.

She smiled, pleased to watch Loki snag the bottles with such elegance no one would ever have seen it coming. "Graceful thief, aren't you?" As graceful as he was with anything else, she supposed. It would be a lie to deny him of that trait. While some warriors' movements clunked in a way that made Sif almost swear she could see their weight pressed on the ground, watching Loki had always been pleasure because he was fluid, like water, but always calculated. She blushed as she considered where her mind was wandering, to downright admiring Loki's form in battle and shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Instead Sif watched the trays get filled with the weaker sparkling drink fit for Midgardian celebration and considered for a moment she had never tried it before. "What if we forgot about the grounds entirely and found instead a balcony? Provided you don't think you might tumble, of course."

Loki glanced down at her, raising his eyebrows. “I'm not a thief,” he said, with a grin. “It's all free. They'll just need to relocate their resources, now.”

Naturally, her train of thought was not known to him, but he would have been amused by it if he had known. For himself, he was still getting used to the fact there weren't roughly six layers of armour and leather between them for once. The stones were wearing away at him, too – at his mind, in some ways, but mostly physically. He registered temperature more clearly than he ever had in his life, and Sif was very warm, and the air outside had a chill against his skin. His drunken state seemed to exacerbate it, as well, which was more than interesting, but also made him not care as much.

“I admit to not spending much time on balconies, but I can probably manage not to plummet off one of them,” he replied, dryly. “So we could try that.”

"Yes, but you are good at it regardless." Sif replied, grinning back at him. "It was a compliment."

The chill of the outdoors hit Sif in a way that wouldn't have were she not so inebriated, and she wavered in her step before getting used to it. Her mind seemed to swim a little more as well, and she found herself thankful for the hold on Loki's arm. She also found herself disgusted for needing it, and decided to demand herself to sober up this instant - to limited results.

His response got a laugh out of her as she shook her head. "I meant because you're heavily inebriated, Odinson. I myself intend to stay clear from the railing. I hope." Looking around, Sif looked for a suitable and accessible balcony and found herself blinking up at the outdoors lighting. "Or we could find a more detached place down here, I suppose."

“We are probably too drunk to attempt scaling the wall,” Loki admitted. “At least while also juggling bottles. And speaking of, we might need a couple more, so if you see any try to abduct them.”

The strangest thing about having Sif on his arm was that he could actually lead the way, and she would actually follow. Of course, that wasn't such a great thing when they were both indecisive drunks who had no idea where they ought to be going. “Make up your mind, Lady Sif,” he exclaimed. “Up or down? I suppose if we really want a balcony we could see if either of our rooms decided to produce one in our absence, but that's a bit of a gamble, and the clock is rather close.”

At the mention of wall scaling Sif started, narrowing her eyes at Loki. "Don't put ideas in my head." She warned, for that was the kind of thing she might end up doing on any other normal drunken night (if there was no one around to squabble with). "I don't, sadly. We could detour into the crowd gathering outside, grab a few then get back on our mission."

She did not wait for him to accept or follow, disentangled herself from him and managed to walk over to a waiter with a cart (a cart? outside?) more or less gracefully. With a lazy, open mouthed grin she proceeded to taking two bottles, one for each hand, bow in thanks then wandered back to Loki. Even though she struggled, holding a bottle as she was, she managed to get his arm around hers again.

"My room should have one. It has been fairly consistent so far." Sif paused, again, looking up at Loki as it dawned on her that she was essentially inviting him back to her quarters. Wonders never truly ceased, did they? She looked around again, however, and decided against it. They were already too far to make it back to her room in time, especially in their state. "You're right, it's too late. Oh! That garden with the pond isn't far." She pointed to her right. It was, in fact, extremely close. "There's a lovely pond you might fall into, as well."

He watched, amused, as she abruptly left on her mission for more alcohol, which at the very least was a much safer one than attempting wall-scaling. If Loki had been feeling a tad more mischievous he would have further pushed her in that direction, but really that would just distract them too much from their current goal. Maybe later in the evening he could get her to do it.

The accidental invitation back to her room made him want to laugh, but out of respect for her he simply tamped it down into a toothy grin. He would not have cared or thought much of it, so far removed he was now from Asgard and it's formalities. His idea of convention was now so utterly destroyed that he found himself passing through life with little thought of it, doing whatever he pleased. Sif, of course, had not such carelessness about her.

"Yes, a pond," he said, starting in that direction. "A lovely one you may push me into, more like, if my recollection of childhood memories are correct."

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