There is no uncle around, old man. [thor might know the correct slang, but sif hasn't bothered with it. these things tend to change every few years, and she is too old - centuries too old - to care to keep up anymore.
she crouches next to him, to behold him flipped onto his back, sweaty and worn out, and buries the flash of want deep, where it belongs. smirks at him instead.]
Going soft on me, are you? [she rolls her eyes and holds a hand out, ready to pull him up to his feet. they're sparring here - sure, he's not putting his powers into it, and mjolnir is leant agains the wall, and she's not using any glaive or even a measley dagger - but there's no reason to slack off.]
no subject
she crouches next to him, to behold him flipped onto his back, sweaty and worn out, and buries the flash of want deep, where it belongs. smirks at him instead.]
Going soft on me, are you? [she rolls her eyes and holds a hand out, ready to pull him up to his feet. they're sparring here - sure, he's not putting his powers into it, and mjolnir is leant agains the wall, and she's not using any glaive or even a measley dagger - but there's no reason to slack off.]