A simple, earnest demand from Loki as he'd rushed from the room just moments before. Accustomed to such trivial mischief she'd laughed at her husband's antics, blinked, and promptly found herself in a stare down with the garden statue he'd bequeathed her a fortnight ago. At least she thought it was the same statue, though it was hard to tell with the fearsome face frozen in a furious scream.
As a goddess her stamina was far superior to that of a mortal. She'd made it a whole three minutes before her eyes began to burn; another before her body violated her wishes and the world cascaded into darkness. Thankfully Asgardian skin was tougher than mortals as well, which explained why she still breathed, however shallowly, with the statue's talons digging into her throat.
Blinking was not allowed in this curious game, so she winked instead. First one eye, then the next; this went on for several minutes and she grinned at the spectacle she must've made. She'd discovered long ago the best way to survive Loki's shenanigans was to laugh with him. When he didn't burst from some dark corner crowing his victory she began to worry.
She hurt. Her eyes burned, her throat throbbed and her body ached from the twisted position the angel statue had pinned her in. Her toes, barely scrapping the cold stone floor, had supported the entirety of her weight for nearly an hour now. She wanted nothing more to pulverize the grotesque gift before her and sink into a steamy lavender bath, however, unlike Sif, weapons had never been her forte and a transportation spell would require at least a moment's unguarded concentration. The talons in her neck indicated she had less than a moment left give. What to do?
Was she not the God of Mischief's wife? Had she learned nothing from Loki's many endeavors? Sometimes the risk, and the pain, was worth the payoff. Gulping a breath of air, hoping such bravery would earn her a spot in Valhalla if this went poorly, she whispered the needed words, her eyes sliding shut for one brief moment. She felt pressure, skin tearing, and hot blood trickling down her throat and chest, then nothing.
She thought it odd the dead would breathe and decided to question Hela on it over tea, or perhaps alcohol. Somehow alcohol seemed more appropriate considering the circumstances. At the very least it would dull the pain she felt. She wondered if that pain would be hers to cherish all her unlife, a cruel reminder of all she'd lost. Somehow that seemed appropriate too. Hela was a vicious mistress indeed. She decided to forgo Hela altogether and go straight for the alcohol.
"Clever girl. Goddess. Right. Asgard. Viking gods. Mjölnir right? Always wanted one!
She blinked, what was the harm now anyway, slowly pushing her body from the cold stone tiles. A lanky man stood before her, his brown overcoat clashing horribly with his striped suit and sneakers. She actually cringed as her inner fashion diva wailed at the atrocity. He ceased babbling, offering her a hand and a smile.
"I'm The Doctor."
"Sigyn. Brilliant! So, Lady Sigyn! What's behind the doors?"
She frowned, turning to follow his gaze surprised to see her own bedroom doors. Apparently her meeting with Hela would have to wait. She couldn't quite suppress her smile. "A murderous garden statue. Apparently the violets weren't to its liking."
"Weeping Angel. Right then." He marched to the doors. She followed. He paused. "We might die."
"We might not. "
Hand on the door he flashed a smile. "Allons-Y. Just remember-"
[ Doctor Who © BBC ]
[ Thor © Marvel ]