Date: Mörsugur 20th, 598. (Alt: 2nd January, 599 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
The flailing mannequin that was the Spiritual Queen's body stiffened and reoriented her body to directly face where the attack had come from, vindictiveness in full view.
She saw the rushed magic gather to a point in a sphere that she could never put her full view on without a pressure on her head, so she did the next best thing. She triangulated her view to where this mystery fighter would be.
Her face transformed into a complex of emotional shapes, with rounded edges representing the energy she had accumulated, bubbling and ready for use, and the sharpened points that barely formed a face, revealing her internal state, a mixture of euphoria for finding a worthy challenger and haughtiness for seeing him all the same as the others. Beneath her, a plaything to be used and discarded once consumed. The bubbles stopped forming and creating false pops on her hairless head-like growth, and it gathered around her hands.
They expanded in a grotesque fashion while also dodging Heath's flurry of punches and kicks, her agility greater than any of her toys she had created in amusement. She aimed her hand upward and slowed her movement to- She staggered.
Thousands of bullets came and hailed upon her from varying angles, from those more acute at a distance to those near below them at a right angle by the beach side, hitting her protruding extremities that could barely count as arms and legs, in the same way from behind, while confused, Heath powered a second attack of the same strength, but to pay the same amount of magic to create it, he swapped out his cover of impairment but kept the Unmemorability powers on to then deliver an upward slap into her torso.
From blunt force, to heat, then trauma from the guns delivering their payload, the Spiritual Queen's temper coalesced into her forming into an unambiguous shape of sharpened points and rounded protrusions. She no longer cared where she attacked, only that she will swing.
*GRRAA-KOOOOM* She delivered an omnidirectional attack that pushed Heath back into the air by a few Model meters, dealing no physical damage. Instead, it acted as a corrosive effect to souls, absorbing their essence and adding it to her own for healing. Heath's integrity started chipping, pieces flaking off and homing like snow to a mountain. He reacted by warping above her and SLAMMING her with two fists, launching her expectedly into the water. Now, Heath altered his hands into half chakrams, coated with his remade gauntlets.
He warped yet again close to where her location is, seeing the sandy ocean floor below and no fish in sight, with most running away. He slashed towards her, yet her body melded like how her children would in earth, turning partially incorporeal to match the qualities of water.
She fired hyper-concentrated jets of minerals that were abundant into Heath's form, causing multiple cuts and penetrating gashes that would then be quickly healed. This back and forth continued until Heath's hand-blades started causing a subcritical state that led to weird glowing bubble formations over them like scabbards. He manipulated his attack with a teleporting formation to separate and accelerate his 'hands.' Turning them into spinning blenders of nucleated destruction. 'How about being water now?' Heath internally taunted.
These sectional rotor-like extensions caused a humming noise that hushed under the new shrieking of the Spiritual Queen, who would flappingly turn back to her normal form, but one could tell she had been severely compromised from this attack.
Many of those bubbles had deflated, appearing as popped blisters upon a spiked rhombic triacontahedron. Heath was attacked by spikes from her that tried to sap magic from his avatar, yet it did not matter. He charged in and launched each other out of the water to then slash into her edges at speeds that made their heat dissipate quickly, the sound of the attacks a jet engine for mennskr's ears. Just as he finished this attack, another round of bullets came and thronged through the Spiritual Queen, all of them from the shore.
Just as suddenly, her form unfolded into a paper-like shape and tried to surround Heath in a cocoon, obviously in trying to devour him like Orgalorg in Adventure Time's episode 'The Comet.' "This better not fail me now." Heath muttered to himself in English.
He connected both hands together to form a saw structure that began rotating, it's increased solidity making the sound greater in decibels and buzzing. *Urr ~RRRRRR* He was cutting through her exterior, chopping her almost in half before she let go entirely so as not to be bisected. But her sudden jumping on him had come with one caveat. HIS MAGIC WAS ALMOST OUT. His expression contorted as he separated the blades again and did a teleporting dash-attack, both blades shooting through at odd angles and reappearing.
They were aimed at dealing lacerations into her and to entrap her into a point for the next firing line to get a clear shot, they cut from all angles, encircling her towards the coast until. . . The rain came yet again, both attacks working to tire and bury her in concentration.
"It is your turn." He used the blades and plunged them into her weakest points, beginning to take back what was stolen and more. Her form now began fracturing into a spectrum invisible to the normal naked eye, radiation seeping out of her in unison with the plundering occurring upon her form. 'She is turning her magic to something unusable!' He quickened the pace, yet that was just the trap the Spiritual Queen was looking for. She disintegrated her original body and went through this channel straight to be absorbed into his soul.
Now, a battle of willed attrition is occurring within himself, a force that has had much more experience in magic and one who has greater imagination and possibilities. Banal thoughts tried to go against Heath's will, but his temperance had been forged from unending isolation.
He began using his magic to dissipate her incredibly transparent Hugr, and a reactionary lashing in response began a contention that would determine who would win and who would die. Heath's side was in favour, but she pulled a suicidal move. Just before she disappeared, she primed her Megin and Hamingja to self-destruct. A look of acceptance in a faceless visage for her vengeance pulled through as the Spiritual Queen's very existence was unwritten to never be recreated again. "OH NO." He soared up higher into the stratosphere.
He tried to absorb as much energy into himself that could not be converted into explosive power, but enough was still left to create a cloud in the sky that became a sun of itself in the twilight evening over the horizon. Everyone covered their eyes, disbelief in every fibre.
"PAPA!" She flew through the sky, seeing his form become a dot that blended into the mesosphere from the acceleration he put himself under. She saw him slow, then fall back downwards once the explosion's effect wore off. Valyria waits with her arms out until her father's limbless, crisped form is saved in her grasp. His soul severely weakened, yet still alive. She warped down, knowing enough of Heath's signature magic to do it reliably. They met halfway, as many of them had flown up as to try to help her.
"GO BACK, NOW!" Gorm barked out the order, and all of them were quickly teleported through where it was once created before it is forcefully closed in turn. But not fast enough for a single mennskr from the village they saved who had hidden to run through.
It was a boy no older than 15. Lithe enough to somehow not be spotted by multiple high-tiered combattants. He sneaked through, and portrayed a reaction like all who walked those halls the first time. "How in the-" A chop to the back of his neck was done by Sigrid in waiting. She looked to others in reprisal for not spotting him in time, so they put the teen in one of the spare rooms and asked the golems to produce and put cufflinks on the boy, which they shone their eyes green, walking off as they had done many a time, diligence fruitful.
Now completed, the door to Heath's room closed, and Adal was peering over his charred form with masked depression in his already slouched shoulders. "Do you have a way to help him?" Leif was behind him, almost threatening with his musculature, if not for his tone.
"He is healing himself, if ever so slowly." Adal straightens his shoulders so as not to askew confidence. "He will come back stronger, his soul is acclimating to this new power. Give him time." His bearded smile tried to give reassurance, yet all could see it for what it was, a desperate, blundering hope. "Stupid Papa. . ." Was heard in the background with Valyria crouched in the background, hugging her knees and eyes replaying what she saw. "There are bigger threats at play." Adal got their full, undivided awareness.
"We must not allow that child to escape and tell the outside world what has transpired, not yet. The Æsir cannot find us with so many protective charms, but if we allow a missing link through. . ." He bores his eyes through the wall, all but screaming imprisonment.
"We understand, but we must show equal care, as Heath would want." Agnarr gets a bout of head inclines for partial agreement. "When you say time, how long at maximum?" It was Hervor who questioned this time, hand resting on her hilt, not in a show of force, but just as a defensive habit from when she feels cornered. "15 nights." Adal's eyes close, and his slightly extended nose scrunches, as verily to a dog's rhinarium when threatening. "Let us leave him be then." He calls for the intact Bus-Guard golems through his armour. "Protect this room."
A single beep was heard through the communication, and all personnel appeared to be in proximity to their assigned patrol area throughout the floor's layout. Their group walks out, except Valyria. They understood, so Egill stayed behind to allow her to process, to grieve.
"Valy-" He tried to pat her shoulder, to distract her in some way, but she pulled her shoulder away, not ready. Egill closed his eyes, sitting next to her for comfort, a silent presence.
Date: Þórri ??, 598 AD. (Alt: ?? January, 599 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
Heath, even in his dream space, is roiling within himself in an unconscious state. He appeared unharmed, yet a dummy to all stimuli. But in it all, he was not alone.
Adal was in this space, watching him with care, though not as a father-like figure, not this time. His features were ever so slowly morphing, obvious that in this case, he has allowed a more womanly presence to enter himself. Not Mother Jǫrð, but Freyja in representation.
Even in a partial transformation that is taking place, one could tell her maintained appearance showed a natural beauty and grace, second to none. Her olive brown skin and light, ashy hair work to tie in all of her features together, with her eyes forming a lapiz to true blue, psychically entrancing glow. She tied what hair she had in a bun, the same hairstyle in real life, then lastly did a call through the aether. "Thank you, sister." She would say to one of the few Gods that could be called true family. "And thank you, Adal."
A response of acceptance and acknowledgement was given by both. She cuts off the communication now, to then stroll through like a model on stage, then sits down in a lotus pose next to Heath's unmoving metaphysical body. She puts a single hand on his chest.
"And thank you, Heath." She began letting part of her magic into his form that she would regenerate later on, enough for Heath's consciousness to return. His vision in this space began reforming. "*Uugh*" A single moan was let go while he began moving his arms to push his torso up, but was gently stopped by Freyja's own. "Rest, Heath." Freyja's voice was recognised from the show, knowing she is not of the side he fears, he follows what she asks and lies. "I am sorry we meet." He pauses. "*Cough*On such short notice. Queen Freyja."
He spoke through a pain that was worse than when he had the car crash, which he quickly refocused on the current task so as not to remember. "It is alright." She remarks. "It is what allies do." Her comment was met with Heath's mind freezing.
"The Vanir." He tries to speak through without having a fit of coughs. "Are part of this alliance?" While his vision may be blurred, he can tell she nods. "That is a relief. But is King Tiwaz in approval?" From his question, a sound like a bell could be heard.
"*Heuh*Yes, he is watching as we speak." She smiled. "He apologises for Annarr's short communication, but he was as busy in battle as he was in diplomacy with you." Freyja's notice allowed Heath to see much of the picture currently going on.
"Ah~, So a military liaison." Heath could feel her confusion, so he shared some knowledge through a spiritual note, which led to her giving a smile. "Yes, very much so." A minor silence fell between them, not awkward, simply gathering each other's personalities.
"When would we be needed?" He wishes to ascertain. "Not for another few months at minimum. As your companions would say, you should rest." She let go of his torso, believing he was of sound enough mind to act with patience. "And as you have provided me with the missing part of my own power, I wish to grant a personal boon to you." This was what she truly came for, believing that equal payment should be provided if returning what was once lost. She pulled herself forward, almost showing off her dress with her hands on the ground.
Heath tried not to focus on that, but she was beautiful, which he wished not to think in such shallow thoughts. "Unlike those you will soon be at war with." Heath parses a small sentence. "I hope to ask for knowledge, you can disagree. I will not fight to take it for myself."
One of Freyja's groomed eyebrows twitched. "That is a minimum, Heath. You could ask for so much more~." Almost purring into his ear, which he moves back. Her expression was one of confusion. "I do not know if this is a test, or if you truly want me in this way." Heath quietens.
"But I am not ready." Heath's clincher caused a sense of disapproval from external pressure. More than likely King Tiwaz' own. "It was not a test. I see you as having great potential. Why so?" This time, she sits in her normal lotus pose, designed to be calming, therapeutic.
He looked through her into his now open memories, seeing his past lover now gone. "When I was a young man, of 18 to 19-" He holds his chest, spiritually in pain. "-there was Guiliana." He remembered, her cascading black hair against her sandy skin and deep black eyes.
"To any of you, she may have seemed normal. But to me, she was the epitome of beauty, and I to her was her perfect lover, as she would say." He sculpted her in his hands, an Italian woman whom, to Freyja, saw his meticulous work on its features. "We had known each other since kindergarten, friends for so long it is almost hard to pinpoint." He is almost inaudible, if not for there being no other sounds to drown it out. "She had asked me to be her partner for life when I was 16, and we had a wonderful 3 years together." The form began fading away.
"She was adaptable, a personality which was no nonsense, she enjoyed many of her own hobbies, just as I had mine. We travelled Europe in a van, seeing sights and enjoying new experiences that all the different cultures had to offer." . . .
"I had gaming, she had hiking, I had book reading, she had surfing. We were a perfect, opposite match that built up on each other's short points." It disappeared from his hands. "Until the crash." His dream scape started rumbling, A beardless Heath in the back of the toppled van in the sky-box like perspective of his first-person view. "The same week as my own flesh and blood, my brother, had joined. . ." The bodies of his lover and brother, one dead, one with fatal injuries, were in view, Ghiliana's eyes lopsided and her neck cracked.
"She could not be saved, even with such extra care." It refocused to his brother in the hospital bed, scar running behind his neck. "He would not wake up. No neural signals, only a form kept alive by machinery." Heath touches his neck, the reminder engraved to him.
It finally appeared with him at the grave site. With the agreement of Ghiliana's family, both were buried with his parents. "I could do nothing, I could only watch as they were ripped away." Heath looked at his hands, where he had moulded the sculpture. "I had repressed these echoes, but it has been harder ever since I gained this photographic recollection of my life." He clenches his fists yet again, though, as it was in his space, no heat had formed. "I could not in good faith ruin what is nourished through life, to put this trauma into the next."
He looks into Freyja's eyes, who did not take his words for granted, and appeared compassionate to his woes. Obvious that a Goddess of love would. "As said to many more, give me time. Please." He put his head down, though he was still as tense even after telling.
"And of the driver?" Freyja asks. "He was a cross-country truck delivery driver, it was during a time when mandatory sleep schedules were nonexistent. He had fallen asleep on the wheel." He pursed his spiritual mouth. "His name was Omar Adamos. I did not want him to pay any issue, but he chose to pay me an allowance of such for as long as I existed in that realm, which allowed me to continue my travels, to deal with the loss." Hollow, that was his expression. He chose to look up again, though his expression showed he was not there.
"I had built up a new life, you know? With good friends, before I was made to come here." He half-smirks, opposite of amused. "Yes, Brijga had forced you, had he not?" 'And I would have made that Adamos grovel if such pure love was taken away from me.' Freyja hides her frown.
"*Deeply sighs*I will simply continue my journey, where I may finally feel ready." He gets up to stretch and unwind, even if it is not physically needed. "I understand." She believes.