Video; Sleep Deprivation

[ragnarsson]

[The video shows Ivar looking a little rumpled, the look of someone who has been trying to sleep and can't. He's cleaning out grime from under his fingernails with one of his knives as he speaks and it occasionally flashes into view.

Oddly enough, he's smiling, his eyes just a little too bright. It's not a happy smile. When Ivar gets angry, sometimes, he smiles in a way that says he's going to rip your throat out with his teeth if you get too close. His tone sounds oddly cheerful as he speaks.]

To whoever is making that horrible racket that's keeping me awake, you have two options. Stop it. [Then his voice goes dark and furious.] Or I'll stop it. Trust me when I say my way will be a lot more unpleasant. [He never stops smiling even as he turns off the video.]

Comments

[ragnarsson]

A nøkk is a water elemental. It, ah, takes on the form of a beautiful woman, usually.

[Just ignore that look on Ivar's face as he realizes the implications of what he just said.]

Then we have something in common. My father was descended from Odin, the All-Father of the gods.

But I wouldn't say no to the rain. It is calming.

[yorkist]

( And just like that, she becomes fascinated. ) Do they have tails, and fins in the stories of your people?

I... ah, well. Must thank you for the compliment. Words I have not often heard spoken genuinely of me.

( Undeterred, she smiles at him warmly. There is somewhat endearing about him. )

Really! You know, before I arrived here I might have found both tales preposterous. But here we are, and anything is possible. That is a rather fortuitous thing to have in common.

Then it will be as you wish.

( She has not done this by herself before; it takes more effort, and so she closes her eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply. The sky darkens overheard; and then the light patter of a gentle rainfall might be heard. )

[ragnarsson]

They generally turn into women or horses. Or women with horse hooves. They're said to play beautiful music and sing. Sometimes, they lure people to their deaths, but mostly, they just like an audience.

[He's just going to ignore the part where she thanks him. He's so very awkward around women. He never can figure out if he wants to kill them or run his fingers through their hair.

He puts the knife under his pillow and lays back down. The rain is soothing, enough to distract him from thoughts of murder.]

Thank you. That is a fortunate gift to possess.

[yorkist]

I see. Similar but not entirely like Melusina, then. As the story goes, she wed the lord of Luxembourg and raised a beautiful castle for him. She promised to bear him many children and remain with him always unless he disturbed her privacy.

Which, he did. She sank into a rock, and is said to be seen either as a beautiful maid or a serpent every seven years.

( To see him sufficiently soothed makes her smile brighten somewhat. Well-used to a terrible temper, she had not been put off by it. )

You are most welcome. Especially as you are the first to say that to me.

[ragnarsson]

Sounds like a typical goddess then. They always take broken promises seriously.

[So did Vikings. Any promise or oath they swore on their arm rings was nigh unbreakable. To do so was unthinkable, a breach of honor so great the only thing that could make up for it was death.]

If you had been born among the Vikings with such a power, we would say you had been gifted by the gods.

[The rain makes his thoughts turn towards those of home. Kattegat had only two real seasons: winter and summer. He'd always preferred summertime. It was a lot easier to crawl around through the dirt instead of snow drifts.]

[yorkist]

Yes. I have read much of the gods of the Greeks, and the lot of them were much the same. Your people are traders as well as conquerors; have you perchance heard any tales of their old gods?

( Unlike the Christian church, into which faith she had been born and raised. 'It is God's will' oft translates to 'It is my will.'

His next words make her eyes open wide, and she blinks owlishly. Slowly, a wry little smile crosses her face. )

I confess that would be much preferable than to be named a witch and killed for being born this way.

( Watching him now, her expression eases, her smile turning gentler. Good. Her father had born a terrible temper as well, and she had learned while still a girl how to ease him out of it. Stories had worked with Edward. It appears rain is what this very distant cousin of hers prefers. She will mark it. )

[ragnarsson]

I haven't. I don't think we've made it yet to that land.

[Ivar's brothers Bjorn and Hivtserk had led the first raids to the Mediterranean a short time ago, but they'd mostly focused on the coasts of Spain. They would have gone further if their father's death hadn't called them home again.]

Sounds like ignorance to me.

[For all that they were a culture considered to be barbarians by the rest of the world, brutal and superstitious, Vikings had some cultural norms that were far more forward-thinking than some others.

His features start to relax, the blue eyes losing the intense stare they so often had. Ivar was always on edge, convinced that if he wasn't, the world would take advantage of him or hurt him the way it always had.]

[yorkist]

Would you like to hear one of their myths, then? Though they also had great heroes among their people, and I know their tales, as well.

( She will need to rectify this immediately. If she is reading him correctly, then she assumes he would enjoy a good story. )

Anyone else would call that blasphemy, but I agree. If God is meant to be merciful, and listen to prayers, then He would not turn a blind eye to suffering and death. Half of my family is gone, and so it is rather difficult to not find the platitudes trite. That "God's Will" was for them to perish.

( She has honestly been thinking about this since the Memoria holiday, and it needles her. A small frown crosses her face, until she, too, finds the need to listen to the rain in order to remain calm.

Eventually, she gives him a little smile. It is rather nice to share this with someone; and a relative at that, in a manner of speaking. )

[ragnarsson]

I would. Make sure it has lots of monsters and heroes in it. I like those.

[He can be a little childlike sometimes in his love of a good story. He likes to think that one day the poets will tell his own tales to the people. He settles back, prepared to listen.]

I think you're following the wrong god if that's what people think he should be doing.

[Norse gods could be terrific assholes sometimes, selfish, brutal, and uncaring. But that's why their worshipers liked them. They were exactly like the people who followed them, full of faults and able to make mistakes just like the Vikings did.]