6783/A different dance for two

A different dance for two
Date of Scene:	03 July 2021
Location:	Asgardian Embassy
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Sif, Loki

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Sif has posed:
"They said it was for 'public relations'," Sif had explained to Loki. "They said a public display of martial skill of the top tier of society would be good for our image." Not even pausing to let Loki look dubious, she pushed onward. "So I agreed. It has been a long time since I've sparred against a worthy foe that could offer me a challenge."

Her eyes sparkled as she dropped the final piece of persuasion.

"I'm willing to part with a lock of my hair as the stakes. In exchange for a lock of yours should you lose. We spar to acquiescence."

All the while the harried-looking PR hireling--of Midgard, naturally--looked on, sweating in a peculiar way, wiping his brow frequently as he watched the pair of gods debate.

All while the television crews set up in the outer courtyard of the embassy, in between the sweeping wings of the building.

"Or will I have to ask Prince Thor?" she'd ended.

Loki has posed:
Loki truly doesn't step foot in the Embassy; not if he can help it, anyway. To do such would be to invite eyes, and there are times (more often than not) that he simply doesn't want the notice. It must be on his terms and his terms only.

Unless requested by someone, that is.

Someone like Sif, perhaps?

Loki is dressed in his Midgard wear, that is, impeccably dressed in a well-tailored suit, tie, cleaned and pressed button-down shirt. Even in the most humid of days, the Prince won't be seen 'underdressed'. Dark hair is slicked back off of his face, and the curls just touch the top of his collar. Arms are crossed against his chest, and he's shaking his head,

"No, I shan't do it. Do you know-"

His fighting style is a closely guarded 'secret'. No sense putting it 'out there' for others to analyze, to dissect. Heck, a good number of his adversaries probably aren't aware that he CAN actually fight, and fight well.

He just chooses not to.

There's no resisting the allure, more that gleam in her eyes than words spoken, though he addresses the latter. "Sif, really.." and he's shaking his head again before brows rise, and the feeling that perhaps he's being swayed, first by pretty words, then by stakes.

The younger of the Princes looks to the hireling, his expression regal, his words curt, "Was this your idea, then?"

Loki truly doesn't expect an answer from the nervous servant of the court as he returns his attention to Sif, green eyes narrowing. "Thor is insufferable as it is," comes in quick response before he looks out to the crews setting up.

A long moment, though counted in only a few heartbeats, is taken before he inclines his head, and offers up a ghost of a smile. Plans within plans? How to turn this to his benefit, perhaps?

"Done." Hair for hair.

Sif has posed:
She puts on a good show, that must be said. Her battle garb is impeccable and designed to impress, parading her personal colours of red and white, protecting her vitals, and offering many chances for flair, what with the ermine-lined cloak, the scaled boots, the white baltea riveted in silver, silver scale everywhere extra protection is needed.

And it goes without saying it is the finest Asgardian craftsmanship, enchanted to the hilt. This is the kind of garb she fights Jotun in. A salute, it seems, to how seriously she takes Loki as an opponent.

If Loki had plans to win through trickery like slicing a lock of her flying hair in the fray to "win", that hope is quickly dashed by the very practical bun she's tied it in, securing it in its own veil of fine chain. The press of her lips when she notes Loki's gaze covering that part hint that she's thought in advance of what trickery he might employ.

Further planning--how long ago had this mortal suggested this?--is shown in her choice of weapon. Spear and shield, her oldest, most familiar weapons, though axes are her favourite of the moment. The shield is the usual round shield from her years in the front line infantry. The kind used to form Asgard's infamous shield walls. The spear, however, is a named weapon. Geirr. And a weapon known to drain magicks from mages from even the slightest of scratches.

When she catches Loki's eyes falling on her weapon of choice, the lips break into a wide, playful grin.

"I challenge thee, Loki Odinsson, Prince of the Realm, to a spar to be fought," she said in a loud voice, playing to the 'skalds' (as she'd decided the press were), "until one yields to the other. The battle is to be contained within the confines of the walkways surrounding the field of engagement. Whosoever steps outside shall be considered as yielding. Dost thou accept?"

And using familiar address. Not that the press would get it, but there's that twinkle in her eye again.

Loki has posed:
Oh, this is a show of finery, isn't it? A touch of 'Sunday best' coupled with the tried and true battle armor. The outfit that Sif had decided upon no doubt took a great deal of consideration, each piece lifted, weighed, and either set aside or worn. Nothing escapes the Prince's note, and the reasons surrounding such. Her hair tied up gives her both a fighting figure and, strangely enough, a note of the feminine that is translated (at least to him). It allows for the outline of her head, her face, her neck and shoulders.

Enchanted armor, and enchanting in the wearing of it.

Green eyes do fall upon the spear, and a soft chuckle exits the sorc- Prince. "Really? You do me a disservice." Does he even need to reference what he's talking about?

Loki does straighten, however, as the words are spoken, the smile that had been playing upon his face at the quiet laughter dying to a hint of its former glory. Doesn't mean he is in ill mood, however. No.. instead, he's playing a part, one that is so very familiar to him, to them.

"I accept your challenge, Lady Sif, and your terms." As he speaks, there is that touch of theatric, that is, his form and figure changes; the suit disappears, and in its place is his green and gold leather armor, a green half-cloak set with a golden brooch holding it in place. There is no obvious weapon at his side, yet. Still, Sif would know that he's NEVER without one.

Sif has posed:
This is not Sif's first rodeo. And while she does have to put on a good show naturally that show is better, from her perspective, if it comes paired with victory.

Booted feet get a grip, ankles twisting lightly to assess footing, azure eyes scanning Loki, then the ground between, then the surroundings, taking quick note of where to avoid people who might otherwise be harmed.

The PR toady knows his job, however, and has kept the audience well away from the field in case accidents happen, with most cameras hovering in the form of drones. A wicked look briefly crosses Sif's face as she spots one of the drones. There's a chance there will be stunning footage of a weapon coming straight at its lenses...

Field assessed, she leaps into action.

Literally.

An ullulating battle cry that chills mortal souls (and has been used to good effect in her campaigns against the fire giants) escapes her mouth as she takes one step, then a second, then launches herself into the air at Loki with high speed, apparently trying to catch him by surprise with a massive shield bash, hoping to end the conflict by bashing him out of the ring before the fight has actually started.

It's almost insulting.

Side-stepping that would be trivial, even for an untrained mortal. What is she really...?

And there it is, the head of Geirr, peeking out from beneath the shield, ready to whip out should any conventional attempt to side-step or duck the incoming shield bash be made.

Loki has posed:
Is he crazy?

Sif has been raised to fight; her role in the court is one of their closest bodyguard, when all is said and done. Couple that with 'childhood friend' and 'sometimes lover' and one has a challenging fight. He's a Prince, and while heavily encouraged, the Martial side of life wasn't as pressed as, say, other Courtly pursuits such as diplomacy and negotiation. He has access to the armies of Asgard with reason, so why should he have to fight?

Enter Frigga. His mother and tutor in all things magical. Thus, with such in his arsenal, most of the times, victory could be assured.

But he's not using magic, not for this sparring. Skalds should take notice! (They won't, though.)

The moment Sif moves, Loki is also shifting, the double daggers suddenly appearing in his hands. Green eyes follow the travel and he moves with a spinning flourish to leave that place where he'd been when changing.; it could be that the footage later will have to be slowed later!

Thor and Loki's style of fighting are completely different. Thor stands and fights. Loki fights like a Valkyrior, again, thanks to the training from Mother. He uses ground, he uses dexterity and finesse, and is a difficult target to hit.

Thus, yes.. the younger Prince 'ducks', though not without a spin that is designed to bring him just a little closer to the landed Sif, the shield, unfortunately, in the way.

And that spear? If he gets closer, that'll be useless to her..

Sif has posed:
"Kara taught you well!" Sif calls, grinning as she praises Loki, using the same Valkyrior techniques to gain distance through movement, keeping the shield and spear point between her and her partner. "She took her lessons well!"

Yep. There's the boasting. The old 'I taught your teacher' gag.

The boasting aside, however, she is not relaxing her guard. Loki is not a fighter and that, perversely, can render him dangerous: he may do something unexpected that could take her by surprise.

So what did she teach the Valkyrior, after she learned from them. She taught them to corral. If your enemy tries to use ground against you, leave them no ground to use. The technique is easier in a group, shields locked, spears out, but it can be used individually with a bit of finesse. Shield forward, spear whip to clear the flank, step forward, trailing foot forward. Step by step push the opponent back, cutting off any moves to the side.

With each pace the shield closes in, moves on the shield side countered by a slip, on the other by the wicked, dangerous point of the spear, slicing through the air with such speed that, for show aimed at the attending 'skalds', the tip cracks the very air itself.

"Tell me, Prince Loki!" she calls out as she presses slowly forward. "What did Kara teach you about this?"

The answer, of course, being 'nothing' because the Valkyrior aren't frontal fighters used in the line.

But the Prince is a smart guy. She's certain he'll find a way; she's looking forward to it!

Loki has posed:
Loki doesn't answer the goading question regarding Kara. His attention is rapt, though he's not tunnel-visioned, which allows for his ability to sense little shifts of balance. Before he moves away, there's a spin with a kick, aiming for the shield in order to push at her, the toe of his boot trying to insinuate itself to the side of the shield in order to pull it, and thus pull her off balance.

It's a message there.

Loki believes in using ground, in moving and never being in that one place, filled with feints and a push in once more in order to get closer.

The shield precludes getting too close, as does the spinning of the spear.

"Nothing," Loki grins as he lands and sets himself in place for the moment, the daggers looking quite deadly as they spin in his hand. "Because Mother was my instructor."

Is that enough to give her pause?

In the next breath, Loki is down, rolling down and under, away from the spray of spear above, pushing at the air with another boot to the shield for that unbalancing once more.