POV: Freyja Njǫrðarsdóttir
Date: Þórri ??, 598 AD. (Alt: ?? January, 599 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
'A soul in need of guidance, is what I gather from Heath.' She watches him work on the knowledge provided to him of her specific Seiðr magic for chlorokinesis, as he calls it.
"Move that hand to be more fluid and rounded by the edge of the vine. Repeat this action." She does the action in true expertise, which he repeats with near exact measurements in thanks to a one-to-one memory copy. "Very good." Freyja nods.
They have now created the third version of her uniquely created runes, not matching any known from databases. This one represents protection, and its design looks inspired by Ancient Mesopotamian, specifically of the Sumerian civilisation, but with certain edges and sections vined and circular. "Where had you come to adapt these symbols? They remind me of my studies upon the cradle of ancient civilisations. By 𒋗𒈨𒊒 (Sumer.)" Heath's question and statement was met with an open mouth by Freyja.
"It was my brother Tiwaz who taught me. We thought we were the only ones." Her face showed a child-like smile of obvious interest in a topic no other known person would study in their time. "We adapted their symbols, their foregone knowledge providing a-"
And so, a new common ground was met, with Heath providing information that came from the modern era and greater magical development in return. Describing much of the Sumerian King list and their mixture of real and mythological characters over a span that was obvious in its falsities, starting with King Alulim. And talking about their ancient Pantheon that the Norse would not know of, such as the oldest one from writings, as 𒈹 (Inanna.) They soaked up much of it, wishing to test ways to further upgrade their self-made magic.
"Sad that you could not find earlier writings." Freyja poutily says, which causes Heath to snort, helping to distract him. "My brother and I will enjoy this." All of this information has been categorised and sealed in their internal vaults by Vanaheimr.
"With us being 1000 years earlier compared to my world's first specialisation into archaeology, do you believe we may find more discoveries?" Heath enjoyed seeing her so happy about it. "We will see." She stands there, gathering her bearings on all that she has newly learnt. "May I ask a question?" Heath was met with a sly eye. "You know you do not need to give me such formalities, we can treat each other as equals." Freyja tries to shorten the gap, a friendship may help their growth further.
"King Tiwaz has the same name transliteration as the Luwian Sun God. I wish to know if he is that being, if he was named after him, or. . ?" That same presence gave a knowledgeable grunt and acceptance of the question, sending his knowledge to Freyja.
"My brother says it was a lucky occurrence, many times along, he only has memories from at most 1,160 winters ago, far from when this original deity was cast down." She stated what he believes, and Heath developed an internal time scale of these religious historical precedents. "And this, I know may be seen as rude." He pulled a grimace hidden from behind his abstracted beard. "What of your daughters, Hnoss and Gersemi? Are they safe with you?" Heath's quizzing was met with a perplexed look. "How do you know of my cats?" She smiles.
"*He ha*I am childless, my guess is these are the myths from your home realm?" He nods, saying it was from the 13th Century's Gylfaginning by Hvammur í Dölum (Snorri Sturluson). "Hundreds of winters later, I see." Freyja squints, Thinking on parts of this collection.
"I was once in bands with Óðinn, no existent Óðr. And there is no Lóðurr, it was my older brother Yngvi (Freyr) who based new human models with clay and blood." She solved a major issue with a possible theostasis and hypostasis of the names in his home realm to this one, then. "What is with Gods and trying to remake humans with clay or other minerals, anyway?" Heath's rhetoric was met with a *Hmm* by Freyja. "Well, for us, it allowed them to create extra valkyrja. I assume for others it's like the purpose of your golems." She nods.
They continued such a conversation for a while, covering every difference and similarity to the chronicles as to apply it to the internet he may create soon with the technology he has based down in the Cavern.
"Lastly, I am surprised King Tiwaz allowed you to have a possible relationship with me, am I not a stranger?" Heath was met with a grumbling that shook the dream space. "That was because of me, as I felt you were trustworthy in allowing your soul to be open to reading."
She continued to extrapolate. "No beings would wish for their emotions to be portrayed to the outside world, yet in most cases, you do not hide them. And I felt much of your honesty through many sources. And in the same way, you know much of me. So it was fair."
"Those like Óðinn can fake these emotions for their own gain from others, however. How do you know I am not the same?" He frowns, and she covers her mouth in disbelief at how he is trying to make himself seem less trustworthy.
"Well, because of that exact question, of course. No one except for the most paranoid would put a cast over themselves. You are not that type~" She flirtatiously says. 'Okay, this is the fourth? Fourth time, yeah, that someone tried to come onto me.' Internally noting, he is keeping tabs on every face and name that had done so. "You are wondering why so many are gunning for you, as you would say?" Freyja raised an eyebrow from his soul's expressivity.
"Then you are an absolute idiot." She rubs her ashen hair in a show of pique. Almost matching a stereotypical Japanese shonen scene if it were in another language. The magic gathered around her and compacted to a brush-like form.
Then, she picked up her hand again to start the fourth rune. "Let us refocus on class, there is much more for you to know." Which led to her teaching him 124 different symbols that give near uncountable combinations. "How many of your runes work with the magical Futhark? I have at most found 412 Runic combinations." Heath got a side eye in response. "None, from what I can gather, they use different systems. Though if we may find a common denominator or translator piece between them, there may be a chance." . . .
"And there are many more than 412. I could share them with you, but most are for destructive curses or for healing purposes." This no longer felt like a class, it was closer to a scientific committee between two bright minds sharing their findings.
"I believe you have shared enough information to pay me. Do you wish to know what I originally saw of the future?" He saw her eyes widen. "We heard your prophetic vision through with those of the Völsung Clan. I can gather what may have happened to those not talked about, so that already plays into our factor." Freyja listened intently to what came next. "Could you tell me what you believe, and I will tell you if it was wrong or not, such as the success of your future plan to assassinate Þórr in his sleep with Loki?"
King Tiwaz's rumbling in the background showed he disapproved of his younger sister's actions. "Oh, shut it. He deserves what is coming." She looks back down towards the still taller Heath. "That part of the plan has not come to fruition yet, so tell us, please."
Somehow, the Vanir had about 80% of it correct in how it was going to plan out, with them failing in the end to boot, which goes to show their foresight while using the knowledge Heath had exclaimed. "Quite well done, all of you." He complimented. "Then what will be your new plan?" Heath saw Freyja look at him as if he were meant to be the one to tell them. "I may be a foreteller, but my actions have muddied the water so much I cannot tell what may be the best course of action." He put his hands up in capitulation.
Freyja began talking with King Tiwaz through this connection in direct view, showing she was candid and that they had built up enough rapport for them to no longer need to hide their communication. As expected, topics varied.
"Then what do you believe from hindsight about what may occur?" She asks Heath. "That the Æsir will send to us scouts through marginal paths that may lead to the destruction of the village we saved after a form of 'interrogation.' And with some of the warriors not wearing helmets due to their hair or for aesthetic choice, it will tie them to the Völsung people from recognition, and will make us have 3 months of leeway or less." Heath gave a plausible guesstimation. "You are with them in Valhǫll, what are their talks currently?"
Her lips puckered in thought. "Mostly about the next feast orgy." She stayed serious, and Heath did not know if this was a joke. "You do have truth in what you say, but with their current inaction, expect it closer to 6 months." She further postulates.
"So about the same time as when Þórr crashes the wedding." He turns off his vision for a moment, a reaction like closing his eyes to think on what to do next. "I wish I had bought more grenade covers, better for teleportation than walking between locations." Continuous mutterings of failed expectations. He felt a hand touch his shoulder in regard and to calm him. "What you have done is better than any young deity would have in your armour. Do not defeat yourself with these what-ifs." She paused, her dress swaying in imaginary winds.
"It would be best for me to go. I am being called to a meeting." One final look at Heath, showing mixed positive emotions from motherly charge to feminine charm. "See you soon." The eyes dim to a normal level, and the avatar begins remorphing back to Adal's original.
Her vision became normal within her private quarters in a lower section of the Valhǫll, both of her precious animals resting on Sæhrímnir pelts of incredible lustre. She had a promenade down the open environmental steps that had a direct view of the courtyard and grabbed the newly provided rations from a high shelf to feed both Hnoss and Gersemi by hand. It was a simple matter, and as usual, both of them rubbed their heads against her hands and arms while giving her kissing licks. She kissed their foreheads before leaving the room.
The rustic design of the corridors that led between each áss (male God) and ásynja (female God) that lived onsite appeared as an opposing, more inviting contrast to the efficient yet brutalist design of Heath's own. 'Yet many are opposite to the structures we live in.'
Her internal muses were cut short before Þórr's youngest child Magni ran past him with his half-sister Þrúðr chasing behind him in flight with her wings due to her nature as a Valkyrja. Laughing and enjoying their game of bird and mouse. 'Hopefully, at some point, it can come to the point where these new post-mortals and our Pantheon can meet on equal terms. It is hard to act cold over others when they can be so interesting and varied.' She tapped her lips, holding her smile when seeing the wholesome sight.
She continued her small walk until a split in the journey was met. She walked through the middle and found the conference room. There, Heimdallr, Hǫðr, Sif, Loki, and Þórr's oldest son, Móði, were seated in their respective stools.
She put on her mask of the more callous, ruthless Goddess that she can be when around those who only seek selfish gains. Her eyes glow more, and she puts on an air of superiority to fight against Loki's cunning and Móði's bloodthirsty mentality to any opposition. "What have you found of the light?" Loki asks in a haughty attitude, obvious in giving a rise due to his knowing of Freyja's less loyal tendencies, believing she had part. "Much. Which we shall discuss." She sat upon her stool while looking towards a raven sitting on the open perch.
"Journeying to the village, I see?" She asks Muninn, who nods in response. "As the old beggar again?" Loki bombasts a ridiculing question, which is promptly ignored. 'I hope my mind charm was enough for the village. I am sorry, but it was necessary, Heath.' She frowns.
"The warriors appeared coordinated and powerful, having weapons that could fire streaks of separated lightning in colours of blue and yellow." Her narration was met with Móði's glare. "Another group of vættir wishes to take what is ours?" His hand twitches, grasping a nonexistent mace. "I do not believe it is vættir or álfar. Their armour appeared incredibly sophisticated and robust, yet they were not the height of dvergar. They must be another group of unknown mennskr. Possibly of Vanir origin to deal with the Spiritual Queen." . . .
"Vanir? Those decayed clots upon festering wounds would not set foot on Miðgarðr with the way we had thrashed them, a shambled economy." Móði's hand crackled with weaker, yet still deadly energy that matched his overbearing father's. He used his head instead.
"Are there any group of mennskr of no affiliation to the divine or spiritual who could have done this?" Móði asks Heimdallr for guidance, his upper face horned mask causing a shadow over the table once asked. "It is a new presence, not of any ties we know of." Such vaguety. "They act as if no sight can tell of them, no source to spy from." His wispy renderings is met with a *BANG* against the table by Móði's palm. "Then I will search for them myself." He casts with venom before walking off, his shoulder cape billowing in untellable threats.
"That bald dobber will see nought what he will bring with his wrath." Loki snidely says. "That is why he is named that way." Hǫðr comments jokily with the sides of his eyeless sockets crinkling in self-satisfaction, not yet crow's feet, but getting there.
"And what of my husband? Is he in Jǫtunheimr defeating jǫtnar?" Even with all of the emotional neglect she goes through, Sif still loves and worries for Þórr. "There has been news of the annihilation of the Illusioner Mind Giants Clan. Baldur is with him to catch any stragglers." Loki states while hiding his emotions behind a veiled smile. Knowing Baldur's kind soul would allow anyone who is far enough away to escape as refugees, the nearby Open Hand Giants Clan or Grand Tamer Giants Clan would gladly take them in.
"And my view of Fenrir sees that he has grown even larger, we need to reinforce the chains." Hǫðr's darkness-sight allowed for him to see every detail, an extra average mennskr's body length for the whole body. Barely noticeable by most due to its already enormous size.
"We will call for Vǫlundr's work with the necessary payment. It is your job, Freyja." Óðinn's mystical and powerful voice was heard through the croaks of Muninn, lastly flapping its wings to leave the building and disappear into the fog at the edge of Ásgarðr. "And of our plan, Loki?" Freyja asks while walking through to the treasury room, and all she gets is a nod in return and him fading into invisibility to do whatever Loki is known best for. To cause chaos and mischief. She looked around, held her necklace for a moment, then walked off.
She passes a few of the weapons and treasures hoarded or collected from those they have come to pass, and collects enough random coinage that could be smelted for materials that would work as payment for the wayward smith, all put in leather sacks for easy carrying.
She walks out with multiple of these sacks that appear to be the same size as her over her shoulders, taking them out to the front of the Valhǫll's courtyard and putting them within her personal sledge's storage compartment. She whistles, calling her sabertooth cats over, as they jump from the open window and run to her location to transport the goods to Vǫlundr's cave grotto. She waves goodbye to many of her fellow warrior women and fellow Æsir before travelling through the viney fog.
Very little occurs during this travel, she gives the necessary payment, she earns a few political and social favours to tie in possible tasks for the future, and lastly feeds her little darlings some rabbit and birds from the local forest before travelling back home.
'If it ever was a home.' She blinks her eyes a few times, not truly seeing the environment she had been put in as something healthy or good for any person to live in. Either way, she passes by a few locations of note, such as dolmen and stone ship burial sites for its easier travelling speed due to the spiritual nature of these monolithic structures that can date from a few thousand winters ago to just a few months prior. Time can truly be a fickle thing. "It would be best to have a stop and rest for a moment, to cool my air." She whistles a signal.
They stop by one of the minor river banks that lead down the hilly slope near where the edge of a small archipelago was, a lively tapestric painting that she may have seen hundreds of times, but would never get old. She grabs the saltwater, desalinates, cleanses and stores it.
From the stored jug she now keeps it in, she picks out four earthen bowls that then have water and smoked venison of virgin male deer in identical splitting. They eat, and their very features made sure no animals came close in response while loudly masticating. Freyja sits upon a small stone she upturned and holds one arm against her knee, her dress never getting dirtied or sullied due to the magic upon it. The environment and the creatures were as calm as they could. For it was another day in the north.
Once they finished their meals and had a small nap, she restarted the journey, they go at a faster rate through the trees and the rough terrain as she felt there was no need to fly yet, and soon she closed in on a random point of interest before finally passing the fog again.
What appeared to be a murder scene from when it was so cold during this winter, a young boy's bones next to a long-dead firepit, gnawed on and the marrow sucked out. She frowns.