Summary:In which boulder-holders are procured. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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To say it was an odd message even for Loki would have been an understatement. Written in the God's usual script, Darcy had to read it three or four times before her head tilted.
'My wife is in need of an introduction to Midgard. Take what time you need to take to do so properly. Should she desire anything, ensure it is acquired. Within reason for Midgard. Inform me if she desires something unreasonable for Midgard.'
"So…. no buying large islands," Darcy says to herself, taking the time she needs to shunt the tasks she needs to get done today onto assistants or onto another day, so that she'll be free to take Loki's wife out.
Huh. Dude has a wife.
"You know. This is likely going to be shopping, and I'm gonna need hands," Darcy declares, grabbing her phone to text Jimmy and see if he was free while awaiting Loki's wife's arrival and silently wondering if she was an elf.
Jimmy, as it happens, is free. He's just finished up with his last client for the day and feels a need to stretch his limbs. After shooting a reply text to Darcy, he flies on over and has her let him in through the window. By the time Sigyn arrives, he should hopefully have his wings all put away, and he'd simply be a tall man in a black suit and tan coat, standing near Darcy with his arm draped around her. Bagman, reporting for duty.
"-soon as I finish…" Sigyn appears next to Darcy's desk in a shimmer of green and gold light. No, not an elf, she is definitely an Asgardian, she has the slightly too perfect look of that race, and is definitely dressed in Asgardian court garb, green and gold which is little surprise given those are Loki's colors. She sighs, and Darcy is not familiar enough to interpret the tone of the sigh, but it is a mixture of fond and exasperated. Sigyn as an entire languages of sighs where her husband is involved. "My apologies, Miss Lewis? My husband suggested as his personal assistant, you might help me get settled into modern Midgardian society?" She looks Darcy over with a warm smile. "Fashions for women certainly have changed." Sigyn seems to radiate genuine warmth and friendliness, a contrast to her husband.
Darcy, mostly used to Loki's magic, looks over at Sigyn. The look of the magic mixed with Sigyn's sigh has Darcy smirking. Loki's a little shit, she thinks, from her comfortable place against Jimmy's side.
"No apologies needed, Mrs. ….Highness," Darcy says, not completely sure how to adress her boss's wife. Darcy ends up following Midgardian medieval title customs, just to be safe.
"I'm hapy to help. This is Jimmy. He's goign to help us out today by being our bag boy," she says, all too fond of hte taller man at her side before stepping away to get her purse and the keys to one of the embassy cars. Darcy demanded vehicles.
Not all of us can teleport, LOKI!!
"Yes, ma'am. Fashions have changed like crazy. But let's start small: You been out on the streets yet?"
Jimmy jumps slightly at the sudden Appearance of the Asgardian woman. For one, he's not used to it like Darcy is; for two, he has other senses to get utterly flabbergasted by sudden appearances. Usually, he can at least feel a mind coming; teleportation skips all that. But he recovers and neatens his tie. While Darcy introduces him, he dips a bow at the waist. "A plesure to meet you."
As Darcy gets her keys, Jimmy steps forwards to the door, to hold it open for her. Oh yeah, and for Sigyn too, before he slips through to follow after them. For now at least, he keeps quiet: this is Darcy's lesson to give.
Sigyn smiles, "Please save Highness for court. While we are open about being Asgardian now, my previous experiences on Midgard leads me to believe the title might… cause more trouble in public than it is worth. Mrs Laufreyson is fine. You'll also find that most Asgardians refer to me as Lady Sigyn, as our marriage was… contentious."
She follows Darcy, watching things with bright, intelligent eyes. "I've watched the street from the window while I healed. I was going to try to read up a bit before actually venturing out but my husband accused me of brooding and decided to take more direct action." Loki accusing someone of brooding is more than a bit of the pot calling the kettle black.
Save Highness for court. She'd like to be called Mrs. Laufeyson. The other Asgardians like to be dicks and call her Lady Sigyn. Lady is a demotion from Princess and they can dislike her marriage to Loki all they want. Doesn't give them right to be rude about.
"Mrs. Laufeyson or Sigyn it is. You can all me Darcy," says the mortal, blowing Jimmy a kiss in thanks for getting the door only to end up laughing at the thought of LOKI accusing someone of brooding.
"OOh, He said you were brooding, did he? I'll have to remember that next time he gets all drama llama on me," Darcy quips, grinning as she leads the way to the waiting car. She had staff prep it for her. You know, she'll have one of them drive too. She could drive, but she doesn't want to scare Jimmy.
"I figured we'd get some clothes first. There's a shopping district not too far away that we can roam, and you can pick out whatever catches your eye. On the way, ask away. I'll answer the best I can."
Jimmy's movements show the paradox of chivalry. You have to be ahead of people to open doors for them, but you also have to let them precede you. How do you do both? In Jimmy's case, he does it with little bursts of long-legged speed, though he's not quite as tall as Sigyn. He gets the car doors open ahead of time for them, too. "This first step will also show you a typical element of modern Western culture, though I don't know how wide-spread it is across all of Midgard," he says. That being, the boyfriend hovering patiently while hours can be spent in a clothing store.
Sigyn laughs softly, "Drama llama? I must remember that phrase. Of course, if I call him on his brooding he will either deny it or boast that he does it better. Possibly both." Her smile is fond and loving as she thinks of Loki.
A bit of concentration, and Sigyn's clothing shifts, though the details are… off. Black pants, but the cuffs are too wide for current fashion, kitten-healed boots, but they button up the side. Green blouse, but too high necked and the buttons looks like they are actual polished and facetted jet. Her long blond hair is braided up and back in a chignon, but it's so long that there's still a tail of hair hanging from the braided knot down past her shoulder blades. She sighs, "The clothing details are wrong, I am sure… but better than Asgardian. And being wealthy one could get away with being a little eccentric. I doubt that has changed."
Sigyn nods to Jimmy, "Your world is marvelously diverse. It is the source of great conflict, but also wonderful potential." She looks over at Darcy, "So… horseless carriages are now called cars, and are faster and prettier… women can travel on their own? And hold jobs the same as men?"
"Please. He's got nothing since he admitted that he lacked the creavity to origami the universe into a duck. Apparently, last time, he just folded it in half. Lame-a-saurus," Darcy retorts, grinning and tossing the keys at the driver. She pauses to gift Jimmy a kiss on teh cheek.
"Oh yeah. hell, what you had on originally was dope. So, yes. Rich equals eccentric, and I'm so okay with that."
Darcy gets in, shuffling over to give the others room and to tell the driver where to go.
"Yep. This is a car. It is pretty bland for a high priced car. It goes decently fast, but fuck do I love the top end of the McLaren. Yes. Women can go where they want, when they want. And can work wherever they want, though the uptight law makers refuse to allow women to charge money for blowjobs. Whatever. The short of the story on women and work is that if you've got hte education, you could technically work in that industry. The long of it is, sexism is still and thing and some places are good ol' boy clubs and it's fucking stupid."
Jimmy is last to settle into the back of the car. Conscientious as always, he buckles his seatbelt in. Listening to Darcy, hearing her passion and lack of nonsense, brings a smile to his face. He lays a hand atop hers while he nods along. "Fucking stupid indeed." He doesn't talk on diversity; hello, Ordinary Straight White Male here, he is not the diverse part. (Being part-angel doesn't count.)
"They're still up tight about that? Well, Christianity. Asgard can be sexist too in its way, of course." Ok, Sigyn is an odd duck, an Asgardian (other than Loki) who doesn't talk about Asgard as a shining beacon of perfection? "Officially, my job would be housewife, I suppose… but married to Loki, it is part diplomacy, part taking care of his various properties, and part research and sorcery. Loki taking my magic and my research into sorcery seriously is part of why I first fell in love with him." She considers the buildings as they drive past, "I've also missed several schools of architecture. Midgardian society changes so fast…"
"Yes. They are still up tight about that. Dumbfucks," Darcy grumbles, grinning a bit as Sigyn shoots a bit of shit about Asgard with her.
"Hey now! Don't know the Domestic Engineer and Domicile CEO. That's shit a touch job and I don't think I could handle it," she says of house-wifery," darcy 'argues, watching Sigyn looking out the window.
"Aw. That's lovely. Keep a man that treasures your brain as much as your curves, i say. Hmm… Don' tknow much about architecture. I suppose, I could queue up a tourguide?"
Jimmy tilts his head, listening to Sigyn talk about Asgard. He really could stand to learn more about what Asgard is actually like. But for the moment at least, he stays quietly in the background; this is their conversation, and he's here primarily to carry the bags.
Sigyn smiles, "That would be lovely… make it about two weeks from now? I should be settled in enough by then to get more out of it. And it may take that long to get a tour guide who won't be annoyed when I ask them about the social and economic implications of what I'm seeing. Sometimes we build according to how we -actually- live, sometimes to how we think we -should- live. Architecture is the priorities of the designers immortalized in stone and steel, a tour guide who just wants to chirp about how something is pretty, or exotic or… whatever is useless to me." Sigyn studies things as they drive past. "Clothing is social signaling on an individual level… Fashion says what society thinks we /should/ prioritize, but people say what they do prioritize by what they wear. I will have to learn the… language of clothing all over again for today's society."
Drawing her phone, Darcy sets the task on her calendar: A tour guide of New York City. She attached a note of Sigyn's preference so that the Right guide can be found.
"I agree," she says of Sigyn's fashion commentary. "Righ tnow? I'm priortizing work. WHen I get off shirt, I'm getting into something comfy. or maybe getting into nothing. Depends on what the BF's up for by that point, ya know?" she quips, half glancing at Jimmy to gauge the reaction. All while smirking, mischeif dancing in her eyes.
Jimmy coughs under his breath, a slight glow on his cheeks. It's not for nothing that Darcy is personal assistant to the god of mischief. He shoots her a small glare, but doesn't fight her on the point; instead, he focuses on a fuller response. "That's really interesting. I hadn't considered just what architecture and clothing really say about people." The unkind may note that this says a lot about Jimmy's own fairly 'ordinary' dress sense.
Sigyn laughs, smiling at Darcy, "Now I know why Loki likes you. They sound like very sensible priorities to me." She mmms at Jimmy, "I think too much, some would say. But Loki encourages it and not thinking can get one killed. When a person chooses something, there is a reason for that choice, right or wrong. Hundreds of thousands of little choices every day, if one could read them, would show you the true shape of a persons soul. Since we cannot, one can look at the bigger choices and read what we can from them. Clothing and buildings are very… visible choices, and more permanent than a fleeting action, a harsh word, so they are easier to study."
Darcy grins at Jimmy's blush, satisfied with it. She leans up to give him a kiss then leads Sigyn further into the first of the stores for the day.
"Damn. You sound like a psych major," Darcy notes before smiling widely.
"I'll have to see if I can confuse you. At least once," Darcy quips, laughter in her green eyes as she turns to motion into an underthings store.
"But for now… underpants. Corsets went out for everyday wear round about hundred and fifty years ago, I think. Not a fashion historian. But, I know they got replaced by the bra. I love my bras. This is my bra store. If you want corsets I know a place for those too. I just prefer my corsets for special occasions instead of every day."
Sigyn smiles impishly, "Oh, I have no doubt you'll confuse me, and it will be fun for us both. But how else is one to learn?" Then the talk turns to clothing, and she nods. "I have corsets, I'm wearing one now, but modern underpinnings are foreign to me. I know my measurements, if that will help? Or would it be better to have them measure me?" Once inside the store she looks around with interest, but a definite air of dignity. In another person it might be taken for arrogance, except that Sigyn's smile is so warm and she seems genuinely glad to have Darcy and any shop staff help her that it seems to be simply her way rather than anything offensive.
"Oh, even if you know you measurements it's a good idea to be measured. I get refitted once a year, just to make sure everything fits right," Darcy explains, walking to the counter. She's greeted warmly, the attendant having a pleasant smile and welcoming demeanor. But she doesn't sign in for herself,Darcy signs in Sigyn, telling the lady that she's referring her and yes there needs to be a fitting. Darcy smiles when she's told there is a short wait, but they'll be called shortly. The mortal turns to the goddess.
"Want to browse while we wait?"
Sigyn smiles. "Certainly… I want to get a feel for the fabrics and styles…" She scans the store, and hmmms, "Colors are mostly white, black, and buff which makes sense I suppose. But if they have any in gold or green…." And for a moment that impish spark is back, though it vanishes quickly again. Interesting that she said buff not beige… another sign that Sigyn is speaking English, rather than relying on Allspeak.
"Nude. When referring to color, it's called Nude," Darcy supplies easily and gently, rather impressed and pleased that Sigyn is actually speaking English.
"Oh, they have loads of colors. Just depends on the style and the brand. I'm wearing a bright red one right now. My skating one is caution tape yellow. We'll just let the fitter know that you have a colo preference and she'll pull what she's got in stock. And if they don't have it in stock, I have zero worries that I won't be able to find the designer and get them to make some in the colors you want," Darcy adds, a smirk on her lips. Loki did suggest that misusing his connections to get Sigyn whatever she wanted. He had said 'within reason'. Getting custom colored underthings sounds completely reasonable.
Sigyn nods, "Black, green, and gold then. I wear almost exclusively those colors and it's so nice to have everything match." She fingers some lace, and hmms at the texture. "Pretty but…" She finds a softer sample and nods, "Better… Some of these seem to be more for aesthetics, while others are more practical, correct? I prefer pretty, but practical has its place."
Black, green, gold. Darcy nods once, grinning as the mental note is made.
"Oh, totally some are looks only. Some are utility only. I only buy ones that have both. I need the utility to hold these girls up. There's no point in wearing anything that makes me feel frumpy unless I want it to. I'm sure we'll be able to find both for you," she adds, having full confidence in the store.
Sif had 'been told' to meet Darcy and Sigyn to go on this excursion, but she was late and thus ended up having to find their destination without assistance. She resorted to requesting a taxi, and is finally entering the store. Dressed in her usual black and denim with Aesir steel accessories, she probably looks a bit out of place amongst all the frilly lacy things.
At least Darcy's voice is easy enough to locate and follow.
"Apologies for my tardiness. Miss Darcy, what is this place?"
Sigyn nods, "I don't plan on anyone but my husband seeing them, but things don't always go to plan… and besides, I love when I can wear something that puts that certain look in his eyes." She smiles at Sif, "Good afternoon, Sif…" She tilts her head slightly, "Did… someone suggest that I might need guarding? Or is this just for the pleasure of company?" Someone like an overly protective husband. Not that she would blame Loki per se, things being what they are.
"Oh, same. This place has some great options for you in that department. But, if you're hoping for something you won't mind him slicing off you, we'll hit Fredrick's. Their shit is CHEAP as fuck, and all but designed to be ripped oh hi Sif," Darcy switches from yakking at Sigyn to smiling angelically at Sif.
"Safe money's on the hubster," Darcy quips, head tilted and waiting for Sif's reply to Sigyn.
Sif looks from Sigyn to Darcy and back, not really comfortable with the way the latter just abruptly changed what she was saying. "I was told you demanded my presence, Darcy. Though I suspect Prince Loki would appreciate my being here regardless of his request, Your Highness."
Her eyes roam across the store and its wares again quickly before she focuses back on the Midgardian woman, fully aware that she had not answered the question about the nature of this store.
Sigyn almost lights up at idea of this Fredrick's place. "Oh, we must go there sometime, if not today, then soon. Men can be so hard on good clothing, it can be nice to have something… disposable." Sigyn takes pity on Sif, "Underclothes. I wanted to shop for some local things, and Darcy suggested we start from the bottom up as it were. Tiny details can give one away, the line of a garment, the stitching of a seam. I want to dress correctly, not merely an approximation. Which means actually shopping for clothing." And not merely conjuring up clothing, or weaving illusions. She can do both or either, but it's not good enough until she knows the details in and out. And that means real garments.
"Demanded.. Fuck, Sif. That was like weeks ago. Well, no matter. I'll go ask for another fitter, and you'll both get some bras," Darcy says, holding up a hand to stay Sif from complainging.
"Trust me. A great sports bra is worth killing over," is added before Darcy lowers her hand and giggles at Sigyn.
"Amen, Sister. Amen. We can look at some edible ones too if you're feeling experimental," bubbles.
Sif's eyebrows draw together. "This is the place you kept insisting on?" She looks at the pair as they giggle over something, and the word 'edible' mixed in there is even less comprehensible to her. So much so that she flatly dismisses it.
Now that she knows that these are supposed to be worn garments, she reaches out to check the fabric of one. They seem … excessively flimsy to her.
Sigyn presses her hands to her lips to try to suppress her giggles. "Edible? Oh, Loki would either be delighted or appalled." She grins, "Either way, it could be fun to find out." She notices the garment Sif is fingering, "That is more of one to be seen in, I believe." She looks at Darcy, "You mentioned a sports bra? Can you find us an example of one of those?" When the fitter comes for her, she steps into the back to be measured. Which means removing the corset. Which she is not going to put back on just to take it off again to try on the first couple bras, so she just slides her blouse back on as the fitter starts to gather things to try. "It seems hard to believe they can give as much support as a corset… the miracles of modern engineering."
"Yes, Sif. This is the store. You NEED a good sports bra if you're going to derby, and it'll probably help you when you're sparring so you don't have to bind your chest to keep from bouncing," Darcy says to Sif, tongue sticking out. When the fitter comes, Darcy loops her elbow with Sif's to drag her along to the back, making it clear that Sif needs a fitting too. Darcy doesn't. The fitters KNOW her. She has a standing appointment every August for her birthday.
"Yes, edible. The strawberry ones are nice. I've avoid the licorice unless you're into that. We'll hit Fredrick's another day, fo' sho'." Darcy settles to the little sofa in the waiting area between all the fitting rooms, legs folding at the knees as she continues to chatter at Sigyn through the partial door.
"As much, but in a different way. A full line corset's going to hold your ribs. A bra's gonna sit on one or two ribs."
Wearing simple Midgardian clothing, Sif doesn't have a corset to worry about, though she might make the store fitter who assists her raise an eyebrow after she's dragged to the fitting rooms. She's not wearing a foundation garment at all.
"Is this a requirement of your derby combat?" she wonders aloud after Darcy quasi-explains, but doesn't comment on the whole binding thing. That's what she's always done, she's used to it. And while Sigyn puts her blouse back on while waiting, Sif simply doesn't bother. Again, why?
Sigyn mmms, "When I first started wearing a corset, I felt like I had to learn to breathe again." And Sigyn spent enough time on Midgard, living hidden among them on and off through the centuries, that she can mimic Midgardian modesty and does so. She puts the blouse back on because not doing so makes you stand out… more than being 6'2" with hair that would probably be ankle length if it wasn't braided, coiled, twisted and pinned up. Even -with- all that, it still falls down fairly long.
When the fitter returns with small pile of bras to try on, Sigyn happily does so. Some she rejects instantly because of the fit or lace that scratches unpleasantly, Others she opens the door and asks Darcy, "What do you think of this one? What would I wear it with?" She's trying to learn and understand modern fashion and that means asking questions. It's also obvious that the corset hasn't been just binding her waist smaller… she's rather on the busty side, and the cut of her corset has been downplaying it. Some of these bras down right flaunt it.
"Having a bra that works? No. But your tits will thank me," Darcy replies to Sif, leaning back to make herself comfortable. When Sigyn comes out in various bras, Darcy eyes her appreciatively, giving her opinion on if that's a good t-shirt bra or a good blouse bra or save that for the formal evening wear bra.
Sif waits in the fitting room proper instead of stepping out to chat with Sigyn and Darcy, and when the shop employee returns with a stack of mostly lacy things, she looks at them in both confusion and distaste. "How is one supposed to wear these devices in combat?"
It takes the fitter helping her put on the first bra and while it fits and is likely gorgeous and doing all the right things for her figure, Sif has no way to tell if it's right or not. It's tight across her ribs, it's pushing things up and together not in, and the straps over her shoulders, what's with them?
Sigyn smiles at Sif, "They look good on you, but not quite what you are looking for, unless it is amorous combat." Which is obviously what she's thinking of when she tells the fitter, "Black for everything, and the lacier and smaller ones I'd like in green or gold if possible. My friend would like to try on some sports bras. Something heavy duty, suitable for derby." There! She strung the words together like she actually knows what she is talking about! She thinks. Sigyn manages to keep her eyes from flicking to Darcy to check. "And I would like to wear one of them out, if possible. Box up my corset with the rest?" The corset is a lovely thing of black fabric with green insets, but the steel boning is very strong. It got her waist down to 'acceptable' by the standards of her last visit, though she was never going to have a teeny tiny waist. Like most women of the era, she faked it by having her clothes exaggerate the rest of her silhouette.
Darcy smiles broadly at Sigyn, silently praising her wording. She had been just about ready to clarify to the fitter what Sif was actually needing, so having Sigyn do it was excellent. It leaves Darcy with just one phrase left to say about it all: "What she said."
Sif looks at Sigyn a bit blankly, but when the fitter has her remove the one bra she tried and helps her with an entirely different mindset of a similar garment… now she gets it. This feels like she is protected in the same manner as bindings, but without the uncomfortable pressure.
"May I take more like this? It feels that I could wear this under my armor into proper combat."
Sigyn couldn't be happier. "Half a dozen for my friend, divided between whatever colors they come in." She watches how Darcy places the custom orders for more bras for Sigyn, in green and gold. And how Darcy pays for it as well. Throughout it all, Sigyn is learning. "Lunch next, then more shopping if you have the time, Darcy. You are welcome to join us, Sif, for as long as you can spare." Packages will be stored in the car, money will be spent, and a good (if occasionally perplexing or humorous) time will be had.