Sif & Loki commentfic: "Sisyphus in Tromso"
Title: Sisyphus in Tromsø (also here)
prompt Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again.
written for http://hariboo.livejournal.com/301452.html>Avengers Assemble commentficathon.
Rating: PG.
setting: near future.
Summary: In captivity, Loki tells Sif about his nightmare.
disclaimer: none of it is mine. (shocking, i know) :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not feeling the biting winds or the snows around her booted feet, Sif mused that If Thor's SHIELD knew the history of this place, they would not have placed Loki's prison here. When we were children, Thor and Loki and I and Gudrun would reenact this place's great battles and the middling conflicts alike.
And for all that Loki did not jerk awake, move with fear in his light and fitless slumber, or do any other thing that a human might consider diagnostic, Sif knew him well enough to ask "Bad dream?" when he opened his eyes.
"The dream," Loki corrected.
Of course. "Will you speak with me, or do you feel the universe owes you more martyrdom first?"
He looked at her, his hair a ragged attempt to keep it cut at a manageable length, his eyes still that of a hunted thing, his lips slowly forgetting how to find amusement in any little observation.
She knows he can see everything, and she doesn't bother to hide anything - it would only draw closer attention and burn whatever grass bridges of trust have been woven back up. "Tell me about where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again."
One long slow nod. "It wasn't far from here," Loki says. "Lagarfjot, I believe. You and I are the only ones at work, diving beneath the ice, under the water, and haul the drowned humans to the shore. We strip them of clothes so flesh and fabric dry, and then we place new clothes on the dead. Over that, we tie armor securely to their chests and skulls and limbs. There is less light from the sun than there is from the bonfires we light with the old sodden clothes...and even that light goes away when the waters rise up. Sometimes we escape to the hilltops in time, you and I, Sif, sometimes one or both of us is caught and deposited as the waters then quick retreat to their earlier levels. And we do it all over, the same process, in the same sequence: the diving and hauling and stripping and dressing and burning and tying and...
"And again. And over. And over. Again," Loki says.
Sif smiled.
"I amuse you?"
"Your captors do," Sif said. They set him with a device that, should he wander far, will transform a radius around him into a volcano. Their idea of Tartarus? "You, I knew would survive Ragnarok." It is not the death of gods, so much as it is the end of Asgardian civilization.
"And you have never been defeated; I cannot picture it being an obstacle to you, either."
And who are these warriors we keep fishing out? Sif wonders, but will ask him another time...if she cannot learn it herself first.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the end.
prompt Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again.
written for http://hariboo.livejournal.com/301452.html>Avengers Assemble commentficathon.
Rating: PG.
setting: near future.
Summary: In captivity, Loki tells Sif about his nightmare.
disclaimer: none of it is mine. (shocking, i know) :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not feeling the biting winds or the snows around her booted feet, Sif mused that If Thor's SHIELD knew the history of this place, they would not have placed Loki's prison here. When we were children, Thor and Loki and I and Gudrun would reenact this place's great battles and the middling conflicts alike.
And for all that Loki did not jerk awake, move with fear in his light and fitless slumber, or do any other thing that a human might consider diagnostic, Sif knew him well enough to ask "Bad dream?" when he opened his eyes.
"The dream," Loki corrected.
Of course. "Will you speak with me, or do you feel the universe owes you more martyrdom first?"
He looked at her, his hair a ragged attempt to keep it cut at a manageable length, his eyes still that of a hunted thing, his lips slowly forgetting how to find amusement in any little observation.
She knows he can see everything, and she doesn't bother to hide anything - it would only draw closer attention and burn whatever grass bridges of trust have been woven back up. "Tell me about where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again."
One long slow nod. "It wasn't far from here," Loki says. "Lagarfjot, I believe. You and I are the only ones at work, diving beneath the ice, under the water, and haul the drowned humans to the shore. We strip them of clothes so flesh and fabric dry, and then we place new clothes on the dead. Over that, we tie armor securely to their chests and skulls and limbs. There is less light from the sun than there is from the bonfires we light with the old sodden clothes...and even that light goes away when the waters rise up. Sometimes we escape to the hilltops in time, you and I, Sif, sometimes one or both of us is caught and deposited as the waters then quick retreat to their earlier levels. And we do it all over, the same process, in the same sequence: the diving and hauling and stripping and dressing and burning and tying and...
"And again. And over. And over. Again," Loki says.
Sif smiled.
"I amuse you?"
"Your captors do," Sif said. They set him with a device that, should he wander far, will transform a radius around him into a volcano. Their idea of Tartarus? "You, I knew would survive Ragnarok." It is not the death of gods, so much as it is the end of Asgardian civilization.
"And you have never been defeated; I cannot picture it being an obstacle to you, either."
And who are these warriors we keep fishing out? Sif wonders, but will ask him another time...if she cannot learn it herself first.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the end.