foreverfrostandwar:

The goddess finally lifted up her eyes to gaze at the person talking to her. To her surprise it was a young woman. Tall, blonde, athletic body. She frowned her eyebrows. “Well m’lady, I must deceive you, I am not a good person to chat. Just an excellent drinker.” And an excellent warrior. But the woman didn’t need to know that. Sif had lost the urge to show around her title here in Midgard after months of being here. The humans didn’t appreciate it anyway, and she’d only use it when being provoked. 

“Uhm, TV? You mean those magical boxes? Hel no, what should I do in such a box? Guess you just confused me with someone else.” The goddess doubted that though. There was no one like her. She eyed up the woman again, trying to figure out if she knew her. But her face didn’t say her anything.

“Ah, right.” Alison replied, the woman’s blunt replies discouraged her slightly–but ever optimistic Alison did her best not to let them put her off. That’s what she did best, obviously. Be bright and happy even in the darkest and dreariest of situations. She grabbed a near by stool and sat next to the woman, ignoring all protests she might have made. No one makes friends right away, and Alison wasn’t just going to sit around and mope by herself.

“Well, you just have a very picturesque face.” Alison replied slowly, her words were carefully thought out to not anger said woman. Heavy drinkers were usually either burly or good at fighting. Neither of which where Alison’s stronger points, “I think it was on the news, are you sure you’re not a presenter?”