Post by Valhalla on Feb 18, 2020 19:24:24 GMT -6
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"Speech"
Valhalla was not stupid. He was old enough to sense that his mother’s health was waning, and in the throes of his selfish youth, he could only be angry about it. The boy had not yet had to grieve someone, and it seemed particularly unfair that his first experience should be of grieving his own mother so soon after she’d brought him into the world. The reality of the world weighed heavily on his heart, despite the spark of naivety within him that made him believe his mother’s illness was just a passing thing, and that in a few month’s she would be well again. But he knew deep down that it was a fantasy, especially because his mother had never been a vision of health in the year of her that he’d had so far.
In his determination to keep his mind off the inevitable, he had taken to wandering. His angst had driven him headfirst into the freezing straits that separated Miera from the mainland, and though the strong currents had bid him return to the island, he could not. It felt wrong to leave her, but he could not just sit here and wait for her to die. The mood on Miera was reticent and subdued. Valhalla could not stand it anymore. A part of him knew he ought to find Valkyrie and talk to her, but he was so upset that he was not even sure he wanted to talk to her in case he said something he regretted.
Valhalla shuddered violently in the cold water, but his thoughts of home only strengthened his conviction. A change of scenery would do him good. One of their scouts had discovered that the pack residing in Tiayr was failing, and so he had begun his journey in northern Miera, his destination the easternmost tip of Tiayr. Valhalla had no idea what to expect from the new country, except for a few stragglers hoping to restore the old pack, but they did not scare Valhalla, son of Valdís and Volsungs, Aesirean prince. He had inherited far too much of his mother’s stubbornness to heed warnings of danger.
The young brute washed up on land eventually, his legs shaking from exertion, and decided to rest a little. Valhalla had finally grown into his body, the size of which almost rivalled Valdís’ now that he had reached his full height. It was untrained though, an unused instrument that had yet to unlock its full potential. He would need a mentor for that, eventually, but he had not yet chosen who to ask. It seemed the wrong time anyway, with everyone so distracted by the fate of the pack and his mother’s impending death.
There was plenty that Valhalla could learn on his own anyway, by surviving in foreign lands.
Rain began to pour from the sky almost as soon as Valhalla had begun to traverse the shoal-covered beach. There was very little flat ground here, as the edge of Tiayr was mostly cliffs, but he could already see that the cliffs were dotted with caverns, so he decided to ascend to steep, rocky outcrops in search of a suitable place to sleep and rest. The day had not yet reached its end, but the rain was beginning to come down hard, and Valhalla smelt a thunderstorm on the salty sea air.
As he ventured across the cold, dark edge of the world, Valhalla wished he had someone to talk to, like mother and father had one another, or Sköll and Raynor were bonded. Sometimes Valhalla wondered why fate had decided the bear would befriend Sköll rather than him. He was old enough now to understand that the gods had a hand in the way of the things, but he did not know why or how. Would they look favourably upon him some day, or was he merely the youngest and weakest of Valdís’ children? He wished he had been blessed as Ragnar had, with a god for a father. Instead, he was just Valhalla.
He came upon an enormous cavern, whose mouth opened toward the sea. It looked like some kind of titanic god had been frozen as it was about to devour the ocean, and then left for all of eternity to harbour gulls and stray wolves in its cavernous jaws. A crack of thunder split his eardrums as he slunk into the cave and pressed himself against one of its damp walls. The mouth of the cave was so wide, and the rain so erratic, that it did not keep him dry completely, but he did not want to venture any further into the darkness of the cavern. He preferred to sit here and watch the ocean and the steel grey sky and the vast expanse of his homeland stretching out across the waves.
Miera looked unending from his perspective. It always felt big when you had to trudge across its vast emptiness day and night, but from here, he could really appreciate the size. He could see, to the south, the famous veins that split the earth like unhealed scars, and the distant crashing of waves against its shores. It was easy to understand why the gods favoured it so. It was such a hardy and daunting land, one that he hoped to someday be worthy of calling home. For now, he would doze in the smattering rain and dream of gods.
Word count: 904
Tags: Sköll
Notes: <3
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"Speech"
Valhalla was not stupid. He was old enough to sense that his mother’s health was waning, and in the throes of his selfish youth, he could only be angry about it. The boy had not yet had to grieve someone, and it seemed particularly unfair that his first experience should be of grieving his own mother so soon after she’d brought him into the world. The reality of the world weighed heavily on his heart, despite the spark of naivety within him that made him believe his mother’s illness was just a passing thing, and that in a few month’s she would be well again. But he knew deep down that it was a fantasy, especially because his mother had never been a vision of health in the year of her that he’d had so far.
In his determination to keep his mind off the inevitable, he had taken to wandering. His angst had driven him headfirst into the freezing straits that separated Miera from the mainland, and though the strong currents had bid him return to the island, he could not. It felt wrong to leave her, but he could not just sit here and wait for her to die. The mood on Miera was reticent and subdued. Valhalla could not stand it anymore. A part of him knew he ought to find Valkyrie and talk to her, but he was so upset that he was not even sure he wanted to talk to her in case he said something he regretted.
Valhalla shuddered violently in the cold water, but his thoughts of home only strengthened his conviction. A change of scenery would do him good. One of their scouts had discovered that the pack residing in Tiayr was failing, and so he had begun his journey in northern Miera, his destination the easternmost tip of Tiayr. Valhalla had no idea what to expect from the new country, except for a few stragglers hoping to restore the old pack, but they did not scare Valhalla, son of Valdís and Volsungs, Aesirean prince. He had inherited far too much of his mother’s stubbornness to heed warnings of danger.
The young brute washed up on land eventually, his legs shaking from exertion, and decided to rest a little. Valhalla had finally grown into his body, the size of which almost rivalled Valdís’ now that he had reached his full height. It was untrained though, an unused instrument that had yet to unlock its full potential. He would need a mentor for that, eventually, but he had not yet chosen who to ask. It seemed the wrong time anyway, with everyone so distracted by the fate of the pack and his mother’s impending death.
There was plenty that Valhalla could learn on his own anyway, by surviving in foreign lands.
Rain began to pour from the sky almost as soon as Valhalla had begun to traverse the shoal-covered beach. There was very little flat ground here, as the edge of Tiayr was mostly cliffs, but he could already see that the cliffs were dotted with caverns, so he decided to ascend to steep, rocky outcrops in search of a suitable place to sleep and rest. The day had not yet reached its end, but the rain was beginning to come down hard, and Valhalla smelt a thunderstorm on the salty sea air.
As he ventured across the cold, dark edge of the world, Valhalla wished he had someone to talk to, like mother and father had one another, or Sköll and Raynor were bonded. Sometimes Valhalla wondered why fate had decided the bear would befriend Sköll rather than him. He was old enough now to understand that the gods had a hand in the way of the things, but he did not know why or how. Would they look favourably upon him some day, or was he merely the youngest and weakest of Valdís’ children? He wished he had been blessed as Ragnar had, with a god for a father. Instead, he was just Valhalla.
He came upon an enormous cavern, whose mouth opened toward the sea. It looked like some kind of titanic god had been frozen as it was about to devour the ocean, and then left for all of eternity to harbour gulls and stray wolves in its cavernous jaws. A crack of thunder split his eardrums as he slunk into the cave and pressed himself against one of its damp walls. The mouth of the cave was so wide, and the rain so erratic, that it did not keep him dry completely, but he did not want to venture any further into the darkness of the cavern. He preferred to sit here and watch the ocean and the steel grey sky and the vast expanse of his homeland stretching out across the waves.
Miera looked unending from his perspective. It always felt big when you had to trudge across its vast emptiness day and night, but from here, he could really appreciate the size. He could see, to the south, the famous veins that split the earth like unhealed scars, and the distant crashing of waves against its shores. It was easy to understand why the gods favoured it so. It was such a hardy and daunting land, one that he hoped to someday be worthy of calling home. For now, he would doze in the smattering rain and dream of gods.
Word count: 904
Tags: Sköll
Notes: <3
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Valkyrie 
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