1 [@necromantica:video]

[burntbridges]

[Letha's confusion over this new technology is clear from the first moment of the video. She's turned on the camera facing away from her, showing her desk full of neatly organized piles of paper, all forms with neat cursive scrawled across them. The angle is skewed, camera shaky, and she keeps moving it as she tries to figure out the device.]

There's absolutely nothing like this in my world...

[Sure, she'd tried very hard to follow the orientation instructions, but she's handling it much like a grandmother with her first smartphone. She finally gets it turned around, but that just gives viewers a worm's eye view of her shocked face as she sees the unflattering angle and turns it back around to her desk.]

If only I could write on these, it would be so much simpler. Well, anyway. Can anyone hear me? I thought it might be prudent to contact this 'network'... and see if anyone who understands these... inventions better than me could lend me a hand.

[Go easy on her, she's never even seen a telephone or typewriter before.]

Comments

[ragnarsson]

[The mention of magic gets him to grin.]

Hardly. I'm a Viking. [Then he sobers a little. His mother had always said he had Ragnar's eyes, the same ice-blue tone to them.] The eyes...couldn't tell you why they look the way they do. I got them from my father. I think it's the gods' way of marking me.

[burntbridges]

A Viking? Why, that makes you from an older time than I am!

[And here she worried she was the odd one out, being from old-timey England.]

Do your eyes do anything special? Or are they simply blue?

[ragnarsson]

Judging from this place and people, I must be from very far back.

[It's very strange to him. The past for everyone else has always been his present.]

Nothing of note. Like I said, I think the gods' used it as a way to single me out as a cripple. They've got a twisted sense of humor.

[burntbridges]

A cripple? You don't seem like one.

[Letha is full of social faux pas today, it seems.]

[ragnarsson]

That's because I'm sitting down.

[The sarcasm is strong with this one. It's a defense mechanism, making quips at his own expense so that others don't get to them first.]

What exactly is a cripple supposed to look like?

[burntbridges]

[She purses her lips, her cheeks turning a bit pink as she realizes her mistake.]

I'm not... sure.

[She decides not to say whatever description came to mind, if only because for once her mind was faster than her tongue.]

[ragnarsson]

[There's a difference between intentional mockery and general ignorance. Ivar can tell the difference. She doesn't seem to be cruel, not the way he's used to seeing from other Vikings. Still, the fierce expression that lights up his eyes doesn't fade.]

I wouldn't know either. I'm a warrior first off. Cripple second.

[burntbridges]

[She hesitates, before deciding to take the opportunity for a new topic while it's there.]

I trained to be a warrior when I was younger. I didn't make the cut, so I ended up a housewife.

[ragnarsson]

There's no shame in that. Being a wife is as tough a job as being a warrior sometimes.

[His own mother had to raise four boys and become Queen of Kattegat when Ivar's father abandoned the family for ten years. He'd seen it wear her down, but never break her.]

[burntbridges]

I could agree with that. My husband has a habit of making a battlefield out of conversation.

[She lets out a small giggle, even if remembering that Aristeo isn't around makes her a bit sad.]

Do you have a wife? You seem old enough for one.

[ragnarsson]

Not yet. Some women have trouble looking beyond the obvious.

[He was a bit of a late bloomer as far as his culture went. The only woman he'd ever had sex with had basically done it as a favor to his brothers. It...had not ended well.]

[burntbridges]

And in your world they have a choice, I take it.

[She doesn't exactly regret her marriage to Aristeo, but... well, she's always wondered if they would end up together, had there been a choice involved on either of their parts.]

[ragnarsson]

Free women do. The slaves don't.

[Something dark flickers over his face before disappearing again. He's remembering Margrethe. He knew she wouldn't have even dared think about him if it hadn't been for his brothers. Who would ever want to be with a poor cripple like himself?]

[burntbridges]

[A somber expression crosses her own features. That's not too different from her own world... except that the nobles are slaves and the peasants are free.]

I suppose it's not too different, then. But our servants marry as they please, and my husband was given to me as punishment.

[ragnarsson]

Hope he was good where it counted. In bed.

[Just ignore the smirk on Ivar's face. He's never been one to sugarcoat things.]

[burntbridges]

[The comment takes her by surprise, and she ends up giggling.]

He was stiff as a board, but it worked in one way or another.

[With that, she tips her screen to show her belly, where a baby bump is just starting to become obvious. Although the fact that she's wearing a maternity dress makes it a bit more so. She's very proud of her kid, and it barely exists so far.]

[ragnarsson]

Hah! That's one way to do it.

[That got a brief laugh out of Ivar. She definitely seems proud of becoming a mother. Ivar has a very large dose of respect for pregnant women. It was no easy task. Viking women had even been known to fight in battle in the condition.]

How far along?

[burntbridges]

I'm not quite sure anymore... three or four months last I checked, but I was dead for a long time before coming here. The local doctors told me the child should be fine, but I can't say for certain how it all affected it...

[She purses her lips. She doesn't really want to entertain the idea that her child might have been hurt by her death.]

I suppose I'll find out when it's born.

[ragnarsson]

You were dead?

[Once again, Ivar is strongly reminded that this place is far different than what he's used to back home. In Scandinavia, people stay dead once they die. None of this coming back to life business.]

[burntbridges]

Yes... believe me, the fact that I'm alive now is as odd to me as it is to anyone else.

[She definitely seems to be handling it well, though.]

[ragnarsson]

Where'd you go after you died? And how'd you make your way back?

[He's definitely interested in that. There's four different places a Viking can end up and two that the Christians supposedly go to. Where had she gone?]

[burntbridges]

[She pauses a bit, but out of pride and a sense of simplicity decides not to mention how complicated her death was. It's a bit embarrassing that she messed up the simple task of dying.]

In my world all souls go to the Netherworld. It looks different for everyone... like you're traveling through a dream, full of what you feel the afterlife should look like. My brother was a warrior, and his Netherworld had mess halls for fallen soldiers to celebrate their glory. Mine... was quiet, and no one disturbed me unless I liked them to.

[Descriptions of the Netherworld are considered rather personal, so she stops there.]

[ragnarsson]

Your brother's sounds like Valhalla. If I'm lucky, that's where I'm heading for after I die.

[He'll die on the battlefield if he has to crawl onto it to do so. He's not going to end up in Hel dying of old age. That would be the worst fate for him.]

[burntbridges]

Valhalla seems like a good place to go, then... Nathaniel always seemed happy after he died.

[Even though she'd yelled at him for nearly an hour after his funeral.]

What does one have to do to end up there?

[ragnarsson]

Half of those who are slain in battle go there. That's Odin's hall. The other half go to Fólkvangr, which is Freyja's hall. But I'm going to Valhalla, for my father is already waiting for me there.

[He missed Ragnar terribly. They'd only just really started to bond again when he'd died.]