Owner	Pose
Loki	Loki's drape upon the velveted chaise lounge is particularly overdramatic. It may have been practiced - though no one was present to witness whether or not that is so. That's where the prince is reclining in full diva mode. One arm is draped over the back of the couch, the other extended lazily yet deliberately to the other side, to allow fingers to circle on the top edge of a wine glass. The song of the glass against the pad of soft, magician's fingers is a full-throated note in the air. It is drowned only by the deeply affected sigh Loki adds, pitched well enough to carry. He's too well posed to actually be in any real pain, his hair a loose raven-feather black river at the cushion.
Sif	It is for this reason, amongst others, that there is usually a look of dubious incredulity whenever the Lady Sif of Asgard makes mention that she has taken up residence with Prince Loki. In another chamber, of course, and their paths aren't always the same. Still? Sif is dressed in form fitting sweater and a pair of blue jeans that has 'seen better days' already. There are stains that bear an almost striking resemblance to dried blood in fashionable splatter patterns, with the final bit of her personal couture ending in a pair of servicable boots. Raven-colored hair is pulled up and away from her face, set high upon the back of her head. Her entrance is loud, an annoyed sound boarding on angry with the shutting, or rather, slamming of the door. Before realizing that Loki is indeed in residence, her voice rises, the words seething, "How dare they? This cannot sta-" Oh. The familiar form and figure of the draped Loki is caught out of the corner of her eye, and in the next moment, swallows a portion of her outrage in order to bring a closed hand to her heart in brief but obvious salute. "Prince Loki.." Dark eyes still flash, however, and she makes no apologies for her entrance.
Loki	Sometimes the pair themselves may have some dubious incredulity over the situation - Loki in particular when Sif makes big, aggressive noises, and appears to be entirely more interested in her own problems than /his/. Loki's tolerance for how much attention he may not be getting can be a little mercurial. As it is, he lifts his eyes just a little to pan across Sif and her explosive problem, and slows the swirl of finger on the wine glass to beckon it into silence. Perhaps to also beckon Sif into similar silence. Loki's tone is low, nearly a whisper, a clear guide for Sif to reduce her volume. Being whispered at usually makes people whisper back - and Loki is adept with slight social manipulations. "Interesting imitation of my brother. Had I wanted to be shouted at, I suppose Asgard /is/ still an option to return to," Loki observes. His tone is grumpy, but he isn't being directly venomous. It's more that he's being petulant, without full anger or impatience -- yet. Perhaps sulky that his problems are not quite as explosively apparent.
Sif	"If I had wished to imitate Prince Thor, I would have--" Nope. Nope. Therein lies trouble, even for a Lady of the court who had grown up with the brothers. Sif sighs heavily as if to underscore her reluctance to leave her anger and insult behind; it's a thicker, louder sound than Loki's softer one. After a few heartbeats, however, she manages to swallow most of it. Mostly. Now is the time for apologies, when a clearer head is gained, and she inclines her head, "My apologies." Once those words are spoken, it seems as if a little more air is let out of the Warrior Maiden, and she crosses the room to take a seat upon one of the other chairs. "It was not directed at you. It was directed at those of Midgard, the so called learned men who are nothing more than grave robbers." Someone's been to the museums?
Loki	"If you want to angrily beat an enemy, I can conjure one for you," Loki says, in a sudden attack of kindness. Which suggests he may or may not have other motives related to doing so. Loki always has motives, but sometimes they can coincide with something that improves Sif's life. Just not often. "Ah, did you find a relic that needs to be returned to rightful owners?" Loki questions with a knowing tolerance, and mild curiosity. "If you were interested in someone stopping you from such a thing, you've come to the entirely wrong place. What is it you need? A disguise? Invisibility cloak perhaps?" Loki asks innocently.
Sif	There's a smile that comes to Sif's face at the offer of an enemy upon which to beat, followed by the acknoweldgment, "Thank you, but no. Perhaps later, when I have worked out what it is I will do about this problem." Nothing is better than blooding an enemy. The smile shifts to a touch wry and she inclines her head, her tones tinged with the echo of her features, "It has not escaped notice that I am deferring first to solving a problem, and then beating. Perhaps these months upon Midgard are making me soft?" That's a real concern! Shaking her head, Sif rises to her feet once more in order to pour herself a bejeweled cup of mead. This allows her the freedom to pace, then, and she takes full advantage. "If it was just a relic, I would take it myself. No.. they show the bones of those warriors that have fallen. Those who had lifted their voices to us in the height of battle are just laid out, as if they were some curiosity. And the items with which they were sent to Valhalla." Sif shakes her head, the words a statement in their finality, "I will not have it. I have been counseled against such actions, but I care not."
Loki	Loki lounges with a sort of irritated indifference - as if he had been very busy doing something and is rather put-upon that someone should come in and drop all their problems on him without any concern for /his/ state and wellbeing. So it is that while Sif is pacing and venting, Loki is mostly appearing to ignore it, relaxing back with his eyes half-lidded. It is an excellent impression of a cat, though he lacks a tail to languidly swish at the moment. "A funeral pyre, then. Easy enough solution. Burn it all," Loki chuckles. "Most all of Midgard's art is terribly sad and uninteresting anyway, I doubt there'd be much loss." Loki's mood, were Sif to pay further attention, aligns with what he usually puts forth when he's looking for a way to entertain himself. Often this is his most unruly and problematic of states - though that doesn't mean he's actively working against her. He's on the side of 'something interesting' that is likely chaos creating when not directed. "Releasing those warriors would prove you aren't soft," Loki observes. And not doing it suggests perhaps she is.
Sif	Sif pauses in her pacing, her gaze fixing upon the still seated Loki for a long moment, her mouth opening as if there may be argument upon her lips. More often than not, there is something that rises that resembles a warning for further actions, but this time? "Loki, that is a perfect idea." Even she can't believe she's uttered those words; she couldn't stop them from being spoken, even if she tried. "That is what they should have had." Emptying the bejeweled cup, she sets it right on the side rather than smashing it (like someone else does!), and approaches the occupied chair. Brows rise now at the thinly veiled challenge cum taunt, and she exhales in a sigh that sounds a touch happier than the one that she'd entered with. Crouching such that she's at level, her gaze searches his own, "I can test that any time. Tell me now, why it is that you are within and without a book to keep you?"
Loki	"My ideas often have great merit. /Kind/ of you to recognize it," Loki says, his tone a heavy mix of conflicting signals - annoyance and amused pleasure. He can be both at once, in a tone that both approves and condescends the world for overlooking his expertise. When Sif asks about why he's relaxing, Loki laughs softly. "I /am/ a mystery wrapped in an enigma often, aren't I." With a thoughtful, amused roll of eyes, he yawns, and gives more of an answer. "Letting ideas for my next project mull about." Meaning, he's feeling bored and restless, and hasn't yet chosen what he'll do. "Before you ask, I'm not really in the /mood/ to build a funeral pyre, but I'm happy to encourage you from here."
Sif	Sif rises again to her full height, her smile tight. He really is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and has always been so. Once, she thought she'd almost figured him out, and then realized there was no hope, no chance of ever truly understanding him. "You are." Her acknowledgment is meant to at least lift his mood a little before she finishes her last point. "I will not bother you with such a trifle, Loki. I will give you the courtesy of letting you know when it is done, however." The chances are better than even he'll hear about it long before he hears about it from her lips. There's a //sense// about him, and one with which she's all too familiar. Now is as good a time as any to 'ask' to be excused, and get some sword work time in. "If I may withdraw, my Prince," and while it's stated in formality, there is a soft personal quality to it. "Now is the time when I wish to draw blood." There is an expectant pause in her words before she turns to head to her chambers to change to her leathers and gain her weapons. There's been more than enough thinking!