🔪🔪 (for a change of pace, if you’d like) (ConstancyChaos)

Send 🔪 to find my muse drenched in blood after they killed someone, or send 🔪🔪 for reverse. (not accepting)

“Right. Sigyn? Well done, love. Well done. I know that you are not
fond of violence, however. Come here, hand me the blade. It’s alright,
I have you. Well done, Sif would sing your praises as a shieldmaiden.”

Loki keeps his voice soft, his words slow and cloying, for
though his wife has seen her share of bloodshed, it has rarely
been at her own hands, or quite so gory a display.

“Come into my arms, please … and breathe for a moment. I have you,
you are safe now. Well done.”

🔪 (sigyns-haven) <33333

Send 🔪 to find my muse drenched in blood after they killed someone, or send 🔪🔪 for reverse.

The moment their eyes meet Loki knows he’s lost any comprehensible
argument he could offer. Oh, that look, it’s too familiar, on the face
of a loved one.

Disappointment. Rib-crushing, chest-leadening, suffocating
disappointment. It has been the litany of Loki’s woes since
childhood, and it’s awful, awful, how self-fulfilling it can become.

He kneels in the red reeking mess of his victim.

“Sigyn, I beg of you. Endeavor to understand … why I do these
things, to protect what remains of my loved ones …”

His voice is nearly inaudible. Shame is fresh on his face.

🔪—Sigyn of Nornheim

Send 🔪 to find my muse drenched in blood after they killed someone, or send 🔪🔪 for reverse.

“Sigyn … !”

Loki breathlessly gasps the name of the maiden whom he barely
knows, past a few hello’s in the palace halls, and a brief
November bonfire that seems so distant now, an almost cruel
foreshadow of Asgard’s immolation. Still, somehow, her good
opinion is strangely crucial to the Trickster.

“You . . you should not be here!” He winces, modulating his volume,
hands, tunic, pants, slick red-brown and reeking of iron, standing over
the thief whose entire skeletal frame has been demolished.

“Norns, I … forgive me, I … ! Twas a spell meant to end him quickly
but it … rather backfired and is messy, and I … I’m sorry, he was
stealing grain rations in such a way as the rest of the refugees would
starve… . Thor does not … know. Can you hear me? Sigyn?”

He hastens to cast water magic, to rinse himself off, that he might
be able to physically touch the shocked noblewoman.

😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 (sigyns-haven) <3333333

sigyns-haven:

icyxmischief:

Send 😍 if your muse finds mine attractive.

“I like it when you get playful.”

He leans in so close that she can smell his scent of mint,
and pine, and lemons.

@icyxmischief

Sigyn laughs, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Oh, do you?” She buries her face in his chest, inhaling that comforting scent that leaves her feeling both ease and excitement. She looks back up at him, and smiles.

“I am glad to hear that, since you are the one responsible for bringing it out in me.”

Loki murmurs a laugh into the crown of Sigyn’s head.

“Am I, now,” he reflects, tucking her entire form beneath his
chin. He traces circles in her lower back. “It gladdens me,
that you feel thusly … liberated, I suppose.”

☺–Sigyn of Nornheim

Send a☺ and my muse will tell your muse something they do that makes my muse happy

“You show genuine interest in my oft esoteric ramblings.”

☺ (sigyns-haven) <333

Send a☺ and my muse will tell your muse something they do that makes my muse happy

“You defend me. Even when it is hardly in your best interests. I seldom
feel protected, but you achieve this.”

😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 (sigyns-haven) <3333333

Send 😍 if your muse finds mine attractive.

“I like it when you get playful.”

He leans in so close that she can smell his scent of mint,
and pine, and lemons.

😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍(ConstancyChaos)

Send 😍 if your muse finds mine attractive.

“Eheh …! I’m getting a very … . distinct message from you,
my love. Would you like to do something about that?”

//Sigyn approaches, holding a tray of candied figs, while Vali and Narvi approach Papa with their gift–a carefully painted quill pen with their names engraved on it. Just behind Sigyn are Fenrir, Hela and Jormungandr, all in humanoid form and smiling. “Happy birthday from all of us, Papa.” <333333333

“What an excellent ambush this is.”

Loki, so strange in his simultaneous hunger for attention, and
his mortification when that attention is earned in an emotionally
meaningful way, now averts his eyes meekly to the gift. He takes
it and turns it over to many angles, offering earnest pleasure through
the meticulous analysis he offers.

“I am grateful that each of you is with me, and safe. This gift is but
a garnish … the, ehm, ‘icing on the cake,’ as the denizens of this
new realm of ours would say.”

“Happy Birthday!!!” Sigyn, with newborn Vali in her arms. “Happy Birthday Papa!” Navi chimes in, holding the cake he made with his mother’s help. (ConstancyChaos)

“Ohhh, my loves! What a wondrous thing it is to be greeted by
all three of you … !”

Loki obliges Narvi and infant Vali with an animated eagerness,
dropping tenderest kisses between each child’s eyes, and bunting
his forehead to theirs for a quiet and earnest interval.

Then he kisses their mother, a lingering and sweet kiss, hard
earned.

“Hello, beautiful bride,” he greets his wife of many years.

And then, with a wink, he returns his focus to Narvi.

“Did you make this? What did you put in it, loveling? I wager
it is very tasty, shall we cut it and eat it now?”