Sigyn’s giggles turned into delighted shrieks as Loki tackled her to the ground. He held her pinioned, and she wriggled, still giggling. “My lord!” She caught sight of his face, her hair falling over hers, and the laughter subsided a little. “Are you a mighty hunter? I fear I am caught.”
“The best in all the land, I’m afraid. Once I have my sights on something, it’s almost over before it starts.” He gave another laugh and gently pushed back some of the hair that had fallen into Sigyn’s face. He gently ran his hand near her eye and spoke quietly. “Tell me of these markings…”
She lifted a hand to her face, brushing the edge of one of the tattoos. “These? They mark my magic.” As was becoming familiar, at Loki’s touch a slight shiver ran down her spine. “I am but a poor sorceress, my lord.”
“Mark your magic… how so? I am unfamiliar with this… I have no such markings.” Loki pushed himself up a little, propping his elbows behind him. He took his weight on his left side and raised his right hand to lightly trace the edge of the tattoos.
Her heartbeat sped up at the gentle brush of his hand. “T-they tell all who look upon me what magics I have in my mastery. Around my eyes for that my senses may be enhanced. The feathers of a bird for that my magic is that of the deep forest and the wild lands.” Sigyn tried to breathe, closing her eyes against his touch. “And the colour of dusk for that my magic is also that of the shadows and the soft night.”