[closed/complete]
Characters: Heimdall [vaticinio] & Sigyn [ascendre]
Date/Time: Past log! So back in Asgard.
Location: Bifrost.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Heimdall is a jerk. :|
Summary: The youngest goddess comes say hello to the bridge-keeper.
There was something incredibly normal in his task. Maybe even incredibly boring. Heimdall knew it was important, knew he should pay attention, knew he shouldn’t wander. And so he didn’t, laying on his customary place, his horn lightly leaning against his legs and a mug of mead on his hands. In front of him, Bifrost seemed to extend itself into infinity, seven colors shining on the land around like sunshine itself. It was beautiful. Years and years after he took that place, it remained beautiful, eye-catching, sacred beyond everything he knew and would ever know.
Boring it could be but one day of boredom was one more day of peace for the city behind him, one more day of life for himself. He’d take boredom as opposed to being dead which was, quite frankly, a very depressing thing to be thinking when the shine of the bridge was just that close to his skin and the sun was high above his head. Things would happen when they would happen, simply that.
Main issue with his work, he thought propping his legs on a nearby bolder, was the immense amount of time to think. Which he didn’t want or needed. Maybe he should skip to Midgard soon, check out the sights, clear his head, hm…
“My lord.” One day, Heimdall would discover just how servants discovered when their master was about to slack off. It was not what he called appropriate. “I have brought…”
Another day, another meal, another period of watch.
All in all, his existence was not what one would call extremely hard, was it?
Sigyn would love to point out that it was a very boring existence. How long could you stare at Bilfrost until you found it redundant? Mind you, Sigyn didn't often see it, so she always thought it rather pretty and colourful. She was young back then, never beautiful, and graceful like Sif or Freyja; just a bundle of trouble. She was also quieter back then, but only in large crowds.
Back then, before a certain Jotun arrived in Asgard, blood-brother of the Allfather, they were friends.
"Food!"
It was a little like watching a puppy, of course as the years went on, she was less puppy and more young lady. Still, some habits were hard to kick, and scuttling across towards his food was Sigyn. "Were you planning on sharing that?" No greeting, nothing formal.
This was her hello.
So he got visitors, he did. Some friends did understand his duty and made sure to show their appreciation in singular ways. This was not one of them. One moment he was about to enjoy his meal, the other he had to put up with the runt of Asgard, as he affectionately called her.
Still, where were her manners, underneath Yggdrasil?
“No,” he said simply, placing a piece of fruit deliberately slowly into his mouth. “Not really. You see, this is my payment for being useful.”
Another sip of his mead accompanied his return to his original position, now giving her whatever attention that could be spared from the bridge. Duty, duty, duty, ah, some things could not be forgotten.
“What are you doing here, runt? Weren’t you supposed to be with Sif or something?”
Sigyn had manners, just not outside Valhalla. No one was going to lecture her out here, by Heimdall's post- so she forgot them in their entirety. "Aw, but it looks really good." The young goddess shifted, moving to block the White God's view of the bridge completely. (It should also be noted that yes, yes she required 100% attention when around). "And if you eat all of it, you'll get fat."
There, precious, precious logic. "Then you won't be able to ride your mount anywhere, we'll have to get someone to roll you over." Sigyn made no barb about his being useful, she knew he was (though she could have easily said he was not).
"And Sif is busy with Thor." As they were these days, while Thor courted Sif and what not. For her part, Sigyn thought the whole thing was vomit-inducing and rather crazy. Oh well, Sif was certainly beautiful enough to capture the heart of any of the Aesir. "Why, do you like her? Do you, do you, do you?" Meanwhile she continued her taunts, Sigyn eyed the plate some more. Soon, when he let his guard down, she was going to dive in for an apple slice.
Soon.
Of course it did, it was made for him. And he liked his food. Heimdall raised an eyebrow in a customary movement, his way to comment on something without words. Right now, it said she was being rather obvious. And visit or not, welcome or not, this was his place and his duty peaked just over her shoulder. One of his feet nudged her to the side, making sure she got that he did the rules there. Bifrost first, the rest was for her.
“I am a God. I do not get fat.” Perish the thought, torture the mere idea of it. “Besides, if I shouldn’t eat it, neither should you. I definitely get enough exercise. And you? Embroidery?” All right, so he could be slightly mean. He was, after all, mostly an asshole.
At the words related to Thor, the guardian made a disgusted sound. The last thing he needed to brighten his day was visions of the ever-oblivious Thor trying to woo a female. He liked his friend, really, he did. But some things about him could be kept from his knowledge.
“Are you insane?” He continued, picking up the conversation where it was left off. And maybe pushing the plate a little to her in unspoken invitation. It tasted better when shared, what of it? “Sif’s a good woman but she’s too. Proper. I’d take someone more normal. Filled. Nice curves.”
A small look towards his companion.
“Why am I commenting on this with you?”
Sigyn pouted when he nudged her a little, but she respected the rules enough (just enough, she was still not in her rebellious stage yet), and so moved aside a little. "Gods do get fat, have you seen Thor's beer belly? It's getting bigger every. single. day." The mentioning of embroidery had the girl giving him a sulky sort of look. "I can't do it, well I can but not good." Of course she wasn't a fighter like Freyja and the Valkyries. No, she was just... a misfit in a way, nothing special, but not a good fit.
"I don't know. Sif would make a good wife, I guess? I think she'll make a good wife for Thor." Sigyn shrugged, "Just. Everyone seems to like like her- curves, right?- or Freyja. She has nice curves, is more normalish? I am not even sure I understand your definitions here."
When the plate was shifted in her direction, Sigyn very carefully (very delicately) reached over to grab a piece of apple. Delicious, delicious apple. A bite was taken as the girl considered the question, "I don't know, too much free time here?"
A small shrug was his first reaction. It was well known that Thor’s exercise was mainly killing giants. And taking into consideration his own boredom, those had been rather silent for the past times. There was only so much the other God could do while home. Beating up other people? Happened often. Drinking? Happened all the time. Frankly, Heimdall thought Thor needed some good old fashioned giant invasion. Just to break the routine. Or someone’s skulls, those two came hand in hand.
“He’ll get rid of it eventually. Let him enjoy his peace for now, we all know it’s not going to last. “ His hand reached out to pat her shoulder, reassuring almost. He understood the need to find something one was good at. He truly did. And sometimes, it was like Sigyn was somewhat overlooked. Foolish gods, they could be. This girl would be important. He could tell. “I never got why females do so much of it, no worries. A bit, yeah. So much? There’s only so many clothes you can wear.”
“And that’s the whole thing, runt,” he added, snacking on a piece of meat which had remained forgotten until that moment. “She’ll be a good wife. She’s a good woman, after all. But Thor’s the one who needs watching over, not I. I watch over things. No one does it better than me. I would need…” Well, something different. “Eh, doesn’t matter. And Frejya’s taken, kid.”
To be honest, marrying was far from his mind. What woman would take a man who spent most of his time staring at a bridge? Or someone who could be drawn to the smallest noise, smallest detail? Women didn’t like not being the center of the universe. And no woman had the hope of ever becoming his. He was sure of it.
“Or you’re just a fool, coming to see our dear old road.”
Victorious girl. That was the meaning of her name (NikeNikeNike) but victory was never required when things were peaceful. "Aha, so it is Freyja, called it!" Fist lifted in a 'win' sign, Sigyn cleared her throat after a moment or two and settled down. "It's either her or Sif." But it was not that Sigyn was jealous of that, nope, it was more fun to watch all the men flock around them.
"Maybe it's not really the road I came to see." Sigyn chirped back, finishing the rest of her apple in one bite, "But I did forget my lunch, and the walk was long and so I got hungry." So by the time she was here, and Heimdall was being served his lunch, she was starving.
Striking a pose, Sigyn made herself at home on his lap, "And I'm tired of standing up." The food plate was also closer like this, and thus in mortal danger from further Sigyn attacks.
Another grimace. He liked them, he truly did. But the mere thought of marriage was enough to put his rather tough stomach out of his lunch. So no. He would see others enjoy themselves with their shackles and be grateful for his own freedom.
“Or, you know, mortals. Those aren’t eternal commitment.” Not that he’d just go and enjoy himself, he was technically their father. How messed up would that be? “So, what did you come to do?”
He was about to say more when she chose to make herself right at home on his lap. Dear Yggdrasil, had he offended someone in his rather long life? Bar the usual victims, that is. A wry glance graced his features as he poked her side, trying to convein that her bones against his currently unarmored self was not on his most enjoyable hobbies. Maybe in a few years with some more meat on her bones.
Wait.
That sounded wrong and right at the same time. What in the world?
“Floor or thrown off, runt. You choose.” It was a shame he actually had a conscience. Saying no to this kid was usually difficult enough.
The poke caused her too twitch, she was not particularly ticklish, but poking had her rolling about if done right. Arguably, she was still more bones than anything else, but curves would be present in a few years. Not significant ones, but enough to give her a womanish figure, rather than a stick shape.
Predictably Sigyn gave him the cheekiest answer she could think of, "Neither, lap." And she threw her arms around his neck, latching like the little leech she was. "I'm tired." She went on quickly, "And the floor is cold and uncomfortable, and you're kinda getting a nice beer belly pillow." And with that she jabbed him viciously in the stomach.
What in the three planes was she talking about? He did not have that. A beer belly. He didn’t. What in the world? He spent half of his time exercising, thank you very much. And he had some wonderful abdominals to show off. And he kicked more giants away than many. He would let no small runt tell him that he was getting fat. That thought was enough for him to slide his arms around her tiny waist and tighten. Not enough to harm, of course, but enough to leave her gasping. A little. Hey, she was a twig of a woman, he would be killed if he did something incredibly stupid.
“Why do I put up with you, brat?” He commented once he stopped his so called torture. “If you’re tired, you should be home. Not traipsing around the borders. What if we were being invaded now, huh? You’d be in trouble. And I can’t exactly keep my eyes on you all the time.”
All in all, he did dislike that idea. But it was true. In the border, things could become dangerous. That was why he was there, why Thor was nearby at any given call, why they were needed. And Sigyn was someone who didn’t have anything to do with the war. She shouldn’t have to deal with it, not even the smallest repercussions.
“Should go home then. Rest?”
His so-called torture had the girl in a fit of laughter and squirming, but she didn't try to squirm away, just rolled about in his lap. Hey, once you conquer a territory, you do not give it back. It took a few moments after he stopped for her to catch her breath. "Because you're in need of a little distraction." Though one day soon she wouldn't be so little anymore.
Heimdall's warning made her frown, "Someone ought to build a wall to help you keep watch, but come on, I know better than to come down here if there was word of there being dangerous Jotun about." Sigyn huffed, a look of mild-offense on her features.
"Besides, I just got here, you want me to leave already?"
Poke, poke. And another for good measure before he finally settled down in his customary position, now changed to accommodate her better. Just to the side of her hair, the road rested as always. Odd. It was so ingrained in his own mind that, unconsciously, he still searched for it with his eyes. Very weird.
“A wall helps but it’s useless if you don’t have someone looking over,” he explained, somewhat patiently, as if something learned a long time before. “You need someone to warn, to keep an eye out, to drive others away. A wall just keeps you from seeing what’s going on. Hel, I can push it down, no issues. And if I can, Jotun can too. This is better.”
Safer, at least. Unfair as it might be considered, Heimdall knew better than to bother himself by seeing it through that side, as if he was some human who thought his fate could be changed by complaining. He was Aesir, he knew better. This was his fate and task and it would be until the end.
“No.” Well, smallest confession. “Just eat, drink and be merry. Share my excitement.” His lips twisted in the driest smile, the sort of amusement which suited him best. Personal opinion. “If you want to bore yourself, I’m not the one who’s going to complain.”
"But a wall would help." Sigyn repeated his words, "I mean, at least you could take breaks longer than a day or two, spend more time in Valhalla and everything. Also a good wall wouldn't be easily breached, it'd have to be a special sort of wall." She looked thoughtful for a moment- then laughed and shook her head.
Now that he had made her comfortable, Sigyn was not going to go anywhere for a while. "I don't find you boring, that is-" She cleared her throat, nervous, "I mean, keeping watch is not very exciting, but that doesn't make you boring."
Besides when something happened it had to be rather good, rather interesting right? Or stressful, whichever.
“And who would build it? Who would protect the worker while it worked? Want to ask Jotur again? I’m sure you remember what happened last time Odin tried that.” Yeah. Freyja hadn’t been the brightest ray of sunshine after that particular episode. Though, truth to be told, he understood the goddess. To have no control over her own life, he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. “Nah, this is fine. Besides, you haven’t heard me complaining, have you?”
In jest, perhaps, in his own mind. Other than that, Heimdall would remain silent on the subject. A task was a task, fate was fate.
“Don’t worry about it.” A last comment about the subject, closing it definitely. As if searching for reassurance, one hand slid from her lap and rested against Gjallarhorn. Cold metal against his fingers, this was the way it was supposed to be.
“Tch. You’d find interest under a rock, little runt.” Another piece of apple, a final gulp on his mead, ah, perfection. “Tell me, what were you doing on this side? Visiting me or?”
Sigyn puffed up in irritation at him, "Well, with that sort of attitude yes, sure, we will never get anything done. At all." When she was done she elbowed him, then sank against his chest, sulking a little. "I'm complaining that we never see you."
The little Aesir knew few things about fate- certainly not that anything was set on stone, and she knew nothing of her own fate (which she had yet to meet, and as they sat here now- in another part of the nine worlds Odin and Loki met).
"Visiting! The AllFather has been gone for a while, I think Frigg is getting worried." A slight shrug, "So I thought I'd come down here and wait, see if he comes home soon. Of course getting to eat your food was my main motive."
Well, he certainly wasn’t going to haul himself off his ass to build a wall. He was mainly a guardian, maybe a destroyer if he pushed himself nicely into it. A builder? No, that was for dwarves and some more adequate Aesir. He would end up guarding the constructors as opposed to guarding the wall. And then he would have to guard the wall as opposed to guarding Bifrost. Why did he want a wall again?
But her thought was somewhat heart-warming. In a manly way, of course.
“Eh, don’t worry about it, runt,” he was saying this a lot, wasn’t he? “I’ll come up and visit when things get quieter. Though if they get any quieter, I might spend my time watching dust balls pass. But without Odin around. Well, you what they say about mice when the cat is away?” They make the older Aesir spout human sayings.
He tapped her nose absently, his eyes distracted with the bridge. Was that something?
“Tell Frigg not to worry. If he’s out, he’s in Midgard. If he’s in Midgard, nothing there can harm him. Maybe steal his attention for a while but not harm. She should rest, he’ll be back before she knows it. And I thought you had servants to bring you food.”
"Mrrr." Sigyn made a sound of disapproval and kicked him a little with the heel of her boot, "Don't worry about it, runt." She mimicked him, "I'm not a runt, and- mrrr." He tapped her nose, and she wriggled it playfully. At least he was paying her attention for one damn moment before he went on about his bridge thing again.
"I will, but you know, it is normal to worry about people and all that." And Frigg did have cause to worry about Odin, considering who he was going to bring home with him for the first time. A Jotun, a blood-brother. Trouble inside Asgard, it was going to be beautiful. Or not.
At least, Sigyn would find said Jotun... interesting. Or something. Maybe not quite interesting, as just special. "Well yes, but I can't have them bring me food while I'm out here. That'd just be rude."
“’Course you’re not.“ Small and petite and so little against his body, could she be anything else? He was a guardian by nature but she brought that part of him even more forward. Like watching a new born flower, wanting it to grow and not to be trampled by uncouth hands. His thoughts were divided, attention given to her and attention to his task, worry because there was something coming. He could see that as clearly as the sun above his head.
“Rude especially because here is dangerous,” he commented off handedly. “Runt, I want you get up now. Because we are going to have company.” Carefully, he pushed her just lightly off, preparing for whatever, a hand already reaching for his horn. Call Thor, draw the alarm because the sooner one stopped something like this, the easier would be to regain a normal routine. It was why he was there.
Keen eyes watched the very end of the bridge - the place where it touched the horizon, far enough to give them time - and he swallowed a sigh. Of course peace wouldn’t last. When did it ever did?.
“Perhaps it’s time for you to go home.” A last push and he was on his feet, grabbing his sword before touching the horn to his lips. A day’s work.
Sigyn would obey, luckily for all she had not reached her rebellious stage yet. She did, however, resent being pushed off like that. She wanted to ask so many questions- like how did he know? Who was it? What was it? - but did not. An instruction had been given.
That horn was so loud, instinctively, Sigyn covered her ears as she began to move back. After a couple of steps she hesitated, watching the White God repressing an instinct to run forward, towards the bridge. Runt she may be, but not a stupid one. Instead she turned and kept going, brisk steps taking her quickly out of sight and back to Valhalla.
Date/Time: Past log! So back in Asgard.
Location: Bifrost.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Heimdall is a jerk. :|
Summary: The youngest goddess comes say hello to the bridge-keeper.
There was something incredibly normal in his task. Maybe even incredibly boring. Heimdall knew it was important, knew he should pay attention, knew he shouldn’t wander. And so he didn’t, laying on his customary place, his horn lightly leaning against his legs and a mug of mead on his hands. In front of him, Bifrost seemed to extend itself into infinity, seven colors shining on the land around like sunshine itself. It was beautiful. Years and years after he took that place, it remained beautiful, eye-catching, sacred beyond everything he knew and would ever know.
Boring it could be but one day of boredom was one more day of peace for the city behind him, one more day of life for himself. He’d take boredom as opposed to being dead which was, quite frankly, a very depressing thing to be thinking when the shine of the bridge was just that close to his skin and the sun was high above his head. Things would happen when they would happen, simply that.
Main issue with his work, he thought propping his legs on a nearby bolder, was the immense amount of time to think. Which he didn’t want or needed. Maybe he should skip to Midgard soon, check out the sights, clear his head, hm…
“My lord.” One day, Heimdall would discover just how servants discovered when their master was about to slack off. It was not what he called appropriate. “I have brought…”
Another day, another meal, another period of watch.
All in all, his existence was not what one would call extremely hard, was it?
Sigyn would love to point out that it was a very boring existence. How long could you stare at Bilfrost until you found it redundant? Mind you, Sigyn didn't often see it, so she always thought it rather pretty and colourful. She was young back then, never beautiful, and graceful like Sif or Freyja; just a bundle of trouble. She was also quieter back then, but only in large crowds.
Back then, before a certain Jotun arrived in Asgard, blood-brother of the Allfather, they were friends.
"Food!"
It was a little like watching a puppy, of course as the years went on, she was less puppy and more young lady. Still, some habits were hard to kick, and scuttling across towards his food was Sigyn. "Were you planning on sharing that?" No greeting, nothing formal.
This was her hello.
So he got visitors, he did. Some friends did understand his duty and made sure to show their appreciation in singular ways. This was not one of them. One moment he was about to enjoy his meal, the other he had to put up with the runt of Asgard, as he affectionately called her.
Still, where were her manners, underneath Yggdrasil?
“No,” he said simply, placing a piece of fruit deliberately slowly into his mouth. “Not really. You see, this is my payment for being useful.”
Another sip of his mead accompanied his return to his original position, now giving her whatever attention that could be spared from the bridge. Duty, duty, duty, ah, some things could not be forgotten.
“What are you doing here, runt? Weren’t you supposed to be with Sif or something?”
Sigyn had manners, just not outside Valhalla. No one was going to lecture her out here, by Heimdall's post- so she forgot them in their entirety. "Aw, but it looks really good." The young goddess shifted, moving to block the White God's view of the bridge completely. (It should also be noted that yes, yes she required 100% attention when around). "And if you eat all of it, you'll get fat."
There, precious, precious logic. "Then you won't be able to ride your mount anywhere, we'll have to get someone to roll you over." Sigyn made no barb about his being useful, she knew he was (though she could have easily said he was not).
"And Sif is busy with Thor." As they were these days, while Thor courted Sif and what not. For her part, Sigyn thought the whole thing was vomit-inducing and rather crazy. Oh well, Sif was certainly beautiful enough to capture the heart of any of the Aesir. "Why, do you like her? Do you, do you, do you?" Meanwhile she continued her taunts, Sigyn eyed the plate some more. Soon, when he let his guard down, she was going to dive in for an apple slice.
Soon.
Of course it did, it was made for him. And he liked his food. Heimdall raised an eyebrow in a customary movement, his way to comment on something without words. Right now, it said she was being rather obvious. And visit or not, welcome or not, this was his place and his duty peaked just over her shoulder. One of his feet nudged her to the side, making sure she got that he did the rules there. Bifrost first, the rest was for her.
“I am a God. I do not get fat.” Perish the thought, torture the mere idea of it. “Besides, if I shouldn’t eat it, neither should you. I definitely get enough exercise. And you? Embroidery?” All right, so he could be slightly mean. He was, after all, mostly an asshole.
At the words related to Thor, the guardian made a disgusted sound. The last thing he needed to brighten his day was visions of the ever-oblivious Thor trying to woo a female. He liked his friend, really, he did. But some things about him could be kept from his knowledge.
“Are you insane?” He continued, picking up the conversation where it was left off. And maybe pushing the plate a little to her in unspoken invitation. It tasted better when shared, what of it? “Sif’s a good woman but she’s too. Proper. I’d take someone more normal. Filled. Nice curves.”
A small look towards his companion.
“Why am I commenting on this with you?”
Sigyn pouted when he nudged her a little, but she respected the rules enough (just enough, she was still not in her rebellious stage yet), and so moved aside a little. "Gods do get fat, have you seen Thor's beer belly? It's getting bigger every. single. day." The mentioning of embroidery had the girl giving him a sulky sort of look. "I can't do it, well I can but not good." Of course she wasn't a fighter like Freyja and the Valkyries. No, she was just... a misfit in a way, nothing special, but not a good fit.
"I don't know. Sif would make a good wife, I guess? I think she'll make a good wife for Thor." Sigyn shrugged, "Just. Everyone seems to like like her- curves, right?- or Freyja. She has nice curves, is more normalish? I am not even sure I understand your definitions here."
When the plate was shifted in her direction, Sigyn very carefully (very delicately) reached over to grab a piece of apple. Delicious, delicious apple. A bite was taken as the girl considered the question, "I don't know, too much free time here?"
A small shrug was his first reaction. It was well known that Thor’s exercise was mainly killing giants. And taking into consideration his own boredom, those had been rather silent for the past times. There was only so much the other God could do while home. Beating up other people? Happened often. Drinking? Happened all the time. Frankly, Heimdall thought Thor needed some good old fashioned giant invasion. Just to break the routine. Or someone’s skulls, those two came hand in hand.
“He’ll get rid of it eventually. Let him enjoy his peace for now, we all know it’s not going to last. “ His hand reached out to pat her shoulder, reassuring almost. He understood the need to find something one was good at. He truly did. And sometimes, it was like Sigyn was somewhat overlooked. Foolish gods, they could be. This girl would be important. He could tell. “I never got why females do so much of it, no worries. A bit, yeah. So much? There’s only so many clothes you can wear.”
“And that’s the whole thing, runt,” he added, snacking on a piece of meat which had remained forgotten until that moment. “She’ll be a good wife. She’s a good woman, after all. But Thor’s the one who needs watching over, not I. I watch over things. No one does it better than me. I would need…” Well, something different. “Eh, doesn’t matter. And Frejya’s taken, kid.”
To be honest, marrying was far from his mind. What woman would take a man who spent most of his time staring at a bridge? Or someone who could be drawn to the smallest noise, smallest detail? Women didn’t like not being the center of the universe. And no woman had the hope of ever becoming his. He was sure of it.
“Or you’re just a fool, coming to see our dear old road.”
Victorious girl. That was the meaning of her name (NikeNikeNike) but victory was never required when things were peaceful. "Aha, so it is Freyja, called it!" Fist lifted in a 'win' sign, Sigyn cleared her throat after a moment or two and settled down. "It's either her or Sif." But it was not that Sigyn was jealous of that, nope, it was more fun to watch all the men flock around them.
"Maybe it's not really the road I came to see." Sigyn chirped back, finishing the rest of her apple in one bite, "But I did forget my lunch, and the walk was long and so I got hungry." So by the time she was here, and Heimdall was being served his lunch, she was starving.
Striking a pose, Sigyn made herself at home on his lap, "And I'm tired of standing up." The food plate was also closer like this, and thus in mortal danger from further Sigyn attacks.
Another grimace. He liked them, he truly did. But the mere thought of marriage was enough to put his rather tough stomach out of his lunch. So no. He would see others enjoy themselves with their shackles and be grateful for his own freedom.
“Or, you know, mortals. Those aren’t eternal commitment.” Not that he’d just go and enjoy himself, he was technically their father. How messed up would that be? “So, what did you come to do?”
He was about to say more when she chose to make herself right at home on his lap. Dear Yggdrasil, had he offended someone in his rather long life? Bar the usual victims, that is. A wry glance graced his features as he poked her side, trying to convein that her bones against his currently unarmored self was not on his most enjoyable hobbies. Maybe in a few years with some more meat on her bones.
Wait.
That sounded wrong and right at the same time. What in the world?
“Floor or thrown off, runt. You choose.” It was a shame he actually had a conscience. Saying no to this kid was usually difficult enough.
The poke caused her too twitch, she was not particularly ticklish, but poking had her rolling about if done right. Arguably, she was still more bones than anything else, but curves would be present in a few years. Not significant ones, but enough to give her a womanish figure, rather than a stick shape.
Predictably Sigyn gave him the cheekiest answer she could think of, "Neither, lap." And she threw her arms around his neck, latching like the little leech she was. "I'm tired." She went on quickly, "And the floor is cold and uncomfortable, and you're kinda getting a nice beer belly pillow." And with that she jabbed him viciously in the stomach.
What in the three planes was she talking about? He did not have that. A beer belly. He didn’t. What in the world? He spent half of his time exercising, thank you very much. And he had some wonderful abdominals to show off. And he kicked more giants away than many. He would let no small runt tell him that he was getting fat. That thought was enough for him to slide his arms around her tiny waist and tighten. Not enough to harm, of course, but enough to leave her gasping. A little. Hey, she was a twig of a woman, he would be killed if he did something incredibly stupid.
“Why do I put up with you, brat?” He commented once he stopped his so called torture. “If you’re tired, you should be home. Not traipsing around the borders. What if we were being invaded now, huh? You’d be in trouble. And I can’t exactly keep my eyes on you all the time.”
All in all, he did dislike that idea. But it was true. In the border, things could become dangerous. That was why he was there, why Thor was nearby at any given call, why they were needed. And Sigyn was someone who didn’t have anything to do with the war. She shouldn’t have to deal with it, not even the smallest repercussions.
“Should go home then. Rest?”
His so-called torture had the girl in a fit of laughter and squirming, but she didn't try to squirm away, just rolled about in his lap. Hey, once you conquer a territory, you do not give it back. It took a few moments after he stopped for her to catch her breath. "Because you're in need of a little distraction." Though one day soon she wouldn't be so little anymore.
Heimdall's warning made her frown, "Someone ought to build a wall to help you keep watch, but come on, I know better than to come down here if there was word of there being dangerous Jotun about." Sigyn huffed, a look of mild-offense on her features.
"Besides, I just got here, you want me to leave already?"
Poke, poke. And another for good measure before he finally settled down in his customary position, now changed to accommodate her better. Just to the side of her hair, the road rested as always. Odd. It was so ingrained in his own mind that, unconsciously, he still searched for it with his eyes. Very weird.
“A wall helps but it’s useless if you don’t have someone looking over,” he explained, somewhat patiently, as if something learned a long time before. “You need someone to warn, to keep an eye out, to drive others away. A wall just keeps you from seeing what’s going on. Hel, I can push it down, no issues. And if I can, Jotun can too. This is better.”
Safer, at least. Unfair as it might be considered, Heimdall knew better than to bother himself by seeing it through that side, as if he was some human who thought his fate could be changed by complaining. He was Aesir, he knew better. This was his fate and task and it would be until the end.
“No.” Well, smallest confession. “Just eat, drink and be merry. Share my excitement.” His lips twisted in the driest smile, the sort of amusement which suited him best. Personal opinion. “If you want to bore yourself, I’m not the one who’s going to complain.”
"But a wall would help." Sigyn repeated his words, "I mean, at least you could take breaks longer than a day or two, spend more time in Valhalla and everything. Also a good wall wouldn't be easily breached, it'd have to be a special sort of wall." She looked thoughtful for a moment- then laughed and shook her head.
Now that he had made her comfortable, Sigyn was not going to go anywhere for a while. "I don't find you boring, that is-" She cleared her throat, nervous, "I mean, keeping watch is not very exciting, but that doesn't make you boring."
Besides when something happened it had to be rather good, rather interesting right? Or stressful, whichever.
“And who would build it? Who would protect the worker while it worked? Want to ask Jotur again? I’m sure you remember what happened last time Odin tried that.” Yeah. Freyja hadn’t been the brightest ray of sunshine after that particular episode. Though, truth to be told, he understood the goddess. To have no control over her own life, he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. “Nah, this is fine. Besides, you haven’t heard me complaining, have you?”
In jest, perhaps, in his own mind. Other than that, Heimdall would remain silent on the subject. A task was a task, fate was fate.
“Don’t worry about it.” A last comment about the subject, closing it definitely. As if searching for reassurance, one hand slid from her lap and rested against Gjallarhorn. Cold metal against his fingers, this was the way it was supposed to be.
“Tch. You’d find interest under a rock, little runt.” Another piece of apple, a final gulp on his mead, ah, perfection. “Tell me, what were you doing on this side? Visiting me or?”
Sigyn puffed up in irritation at him, "Well, with that sort of attitude yes, sure, we will never get anything done. At all." When she was done she elbowed him, then sank against his chest, sulking a little. "I'm complaining that we never see you."
The little Aesir knew few things about fate- certainly not that anything was set on stone, and she knew nothing of her own fate (which she had yet to meet, and as they sat here now- in another part of the nine worlds Odin and Loki met).
"Visiting! The AllFather has been gone for a while, I think Frigg is getting worried." A slight shrug, "So I thought I'd come down here and wait, see if he comes home soon. Of course getting to eat your food was my main motive."
Well, he certainly wasn’t going to haul himself off his ass to build a wall. He was mainly a guardian, maybe a destroyer if he pushed himself nicely into it. A builder? No, that was for dwarves and some more adequate Aesir. He would end up guarding the constructors as opposed to guarding the wall. And then he would have to guard the wall as opposed to guarding Bifrost. Why did he want a wall again?
But her thought was somewhat heart-warming. In a manly way, of course.
“Eh, don’t worry about it, runt,” he was saying this a lot, wasn’t he? “I’ll come up and visit when things get quieter. Though if they get any quieter, I might spend my time watching dust balls pass. But without Odin around. Well, you what they say about mice when the cat is away?” They make the older Aesir spout human sayings.
He tapped her nose absently, his eyes distracted with the bridge. Was that something?
“Tell Frigg not to worry. If he’s out, he’s in Midgard. If he’s in Midgard, nothing there can harm him. Maybe steal his attention for a while but not harm. She should rest, he’ll be back before she knows it. And I thought you had servants to bring you food.”
"Mrrr." Sigyn made a sound of disapproval and kicked him a little with the heel of her boot, "Don't worry about it, runt." She mimicked him, "I'm not a runt, and- mrrr." He tapped her nose, and she wriggled it playfully. At least he was paying her attention for one damn moment before he went on about his bridge thing again.
"I will, but you know, it is normal to worry about people and all that." And Frigg did have cause to worry about Odin, considering who he was going to bring home with him for the first time. A Jotun, a blood-brother. Trouble inside Asgard, it was going to be beautiful. Or not.
At least, Sigyn would find said Jotun... interesting. Or something. Maybe not quite interesting, as just special. "Well yes, but I can't have them bring me food while I'm out here. That'd just be rude."
“’Course you’re not.“ Small and petite and so little against his body, could she be anything else? He was a guardian by nature but she brought that part of him even more forward. Like watching a new born flower, wanting it to grow and not to be trampled by uncouth hands. His thoughts were divided, attention given to her and attention to his task, worry because there was something coming. He could see that as clearly as the sun above his head.
“Rude especially because here is dangerous,” he commented off handedly. “Runt, I want you get up now. Because we are going to have company.” Carefully, he pushed her just lightly off, preparing for whatever, a hand already reaching for his horn. Call Thor, draw the alarm because the sooner one stopped something like this, the easier would be to regain a normal routine. It was why he was there.
Keen eyes watched the very end of the bridge - the place where it touched the horizon, far enough to give them time - and he swallowed a sigh. Of course peace wouldn’t last. When did it ever did?.
“Perhaps it’s time for you to go home.” A last push and he was on his feet, grabbing his sword before touching the horn to his lips. A day’s work.
Sigyn would obey, luckily for all she had not reached her rebellious stage yet. She did, however, resent being pushed off like that. She wanted to ask so many questions- like how did he know? Who was it? What was it? - but did not. An instruction had been given.
That horn was so loud, instinctively, Sigyn covered her ears as she began to move back. After a couple of steps she hesitated, watching the White God repressing an instinct to run forward, towards the bridge. Runt she may be, but not a stupid one. Instead she turned and kept going, brisk steps taking her quickly out of sight and back to Valhalla.