When the world's crashin' down
When I fall and hit the ground
I will turn myself around
Don't you try to stop it!
BASICS
RETIRE INFO: Adopt if Thor is in play, Retire if not. Adopt bonded
NAME: Sif
GENDER: female
PRONOUNS: she/her/hers
ORIENTATION: Aromantic bisexual
BIRTHDATE: Winter 2741
AGE: twenty-six as of Late Fall 2768
LOCATION: Fort Weyr
OCCUPATION: sellsword, babysitter, rider, resident over-achiever
WING: Eclipse
APPEARANCE
EYES: dark brown
HAIR: dark brown, worn just long enough to pull into a practical braid
HEIGHT AND BUILD: five feet and seven inches, solidly built and sturdy with pronounced muscles
PLAY-BY: Jaimie Alexander
FULL APPEARANCE:
Looking at Sif, it's hard to think of her as anything other than a fighter. She is not very tall, but every inch of her five feet seven inches is compact muscle. Her clothes are a mixture of practical and frippery. The frippery is hard worn, as if she wants to wear down the garments as fast as possible so she can choose the replacements. She moves with careless grace, like she doesn't notice what she is doing.
PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY:
Sif's mother would tell her that if she ever loved a man of rank, she would never have all of him. She would have to share his heart with his duty, and would only ever have as much as she could trick him into giving her. That never sat well with Sif. She prefers action over planning, although with time she will make one hell of a strategist. The issue is convincing her to slow down long enough to consider multiple sides of the situation.
Because when left to her own devices, Sif will follow Thor with abandon. She's a skilled fighter, but quite correct in her form. She is conscientious, but loves nothing more than the thrill of showing off her prowess. After all, Sif has worked hard for every ounce of skill she has. Nothing wrong with pride, is there?
HISTORY
FAMILY: mother - wherhandler
father - guard
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: nope
BIRTHPLACE: a small hold outside of High Reaches, known as 'Asgard'
HISTORY:
Sif's only destiny was to marry higher than her station.
Well, that's what her mother wanted. She wanted the best for her daughter, and that meant marrying into rank. Sif had other ideas, and joined guard training when she was too young to technically be there. She got her fingers broken before she quit swinging the practice weapons as if they were toys, and shortly thereafter settled down to the business of learning how to fight properly.
Her efforts did not go unnoticed. She and a trio of male guards became friends with the heir to Asgard Hold, mighty Thor. She and the Warriors Three should have known better than to always follow Thor in his mad exploits, but when they were together, reason did not always prevail. Reason rarely prevailed.
Life took a sharp turn after one incursion by the holdless. Thor led an attack on the camp, and Sif hardly had clean hands by the end of it. It wasn't the first time she had killed, but it certainly had the most consequences. Thor was exiled from the Hold, making his younger brother the heir. Sif and the Warriors Three suffered their punishments. Sif was stripped of her weapons and sent to family at Fort Weyr. Her mother had decided it was high time she became a proper Lady.
Her mother was to be disappointed. Far from settling into etiquette, Sif made a bid to join the ranks of wherhandlers. She was nearly aged out of dragon candidacy, never mind that she had not been Searched, but whers had no upper age limit. Her plans were derailed when she was attending the Gates hatching. It was a shared garnet clutch - did garnets always share clutches? - and hardly something to miss.
I see you, but you are far away. Belgaerth won't bite you, Sif.
Through the entire gathering of candidates - which included an unmistakable blond - Belgaerth demanded her attention from the stands. Her tricksy brown was ready to turn her world upside down and inside out. Where Sif was physically graceful, Belgaerth was graceful with words. They complement each other in ways neither thought they might need.
