Asgard take two
Aug. 7th, 2004 11:47 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsFor something totally different, Paige finds herself in the middle of nowhere without the comfort of knowing what exactly the future will bring and it scares the bejeebus out of her. Luckily, there are dead people to pick up. That's distracting, right? No clue where this came from.
The hem of Paige’s nightdress still dragged on the ground as she walked, even after they’d had it hemmed. It made the palest of whispers against the stone and should have been comforting but her mind didn’t occupy the place where rationality was held. They, the Valkyries, for she was one of them now, had moved from their campsite to stay a while at the hall. No battles were raging currently, she knew that and was thankful, and so there was no need for the winged creatures and their riders to be out. Instead, they had had the task of amusing the fallen soldiers, of trying to fill their hearts that were no longer there. It seemed like everyone in Asgard was getting propositioned tonight.
But that had been hours ago, many short hours in comparison to the long ones she had spent in the hall. Now, she readied for bed, a comb in her hand. The other women had tried to convince her to either cut off her hair or stay put long enough for them to create the elaborate braids of their kind, but she’d have nothing of the sort of either and now she grew to regret it. There was nothing to be done with it; it would simply have to stay like this. But how could they have asked her to braid it when there were so many other new things to learn and Jono preferred her hair long?
There was a wrench in her chest, a physical pain that hurt so badly she was forced to squeeze her eyes closed tight and hope hard that it would pass. But it didn’t, it only seemed to increase, and her comb made a frightful clatter against the wall when she threw it with all the strength left in her. Paige looked up at the noise, finding something not quite like herself in the filmy mirror. She raised a hand to touch her nose, her cheeks, and found it was still her, except for someone else’s eyes that were so hollow and a mass of blonde tangles. Tugging at the knots with fingers made into claws she managed to tame it as best she could in her fury and put it in two small, simple braids by her face to keep it out of her way, the rest tumbling down her back. This would have to do.
Her spear leaned by the bed as she approached it. Paige still had trouble with that. Her spear. She owned a spear. A spear she had made herself with the same absolute perfection that she forced herself to do everything. There was a bow and a quiver of arrows by the door, which the other women called hers, but she laid no claim to them. She had not made them and she had no skill with them, so how could they be hers? Yet, Paige still practiced with them once a day, as instructed, and was making progress. Her spear lessons were twice a day, and while those went much better, the last couple of days she could not manage to put any heart into it.
The first weeks had been wonderful and exciting with all her spare time spent training and learning everything she could. When she slept it was soundly and when she ate it was full meals. Her skin added extra freckles to its collection, especially across the bridge of her nose, as she never had a reason to husk, and for goodness sake, she was learning to ride a flying horse. This was the experience of a lifetime. No one could ask for better. But on the morning of the twentieth day there, her eighteenth, she had awoken to realize that she was not going home. This was no longer a game, nor was it fun.
Paige had planned out her entire life when she was a little girl. Her father had just died and her brother was leaving for the most wonderful school in the world and even then she owned a mechanical pencil and an affinity for making lists. So that day, sitting on her porch swing, she had made a list of what she was going to do with every year of her life until she was forty-five, for at that point she would be too old to do much living anyway, and knew exactly what she was going to do with her life and when, and until that very morning, she’d lived out her life exactly to plan. That morning, buried under a sea of furs and staring up at a tan ceiling, Paige found herself not knowing what she was going to do with her life and it scared her beyond anything she’d ever encountered.
It was weeks later, and she could breathe now when she thought about it, drawing back the covers to her bed, but she still didn’t have an answer. The idea that this was just a vacation and she was going to go home with so much to tell everyone was but a distant memory. She wasn’t going home. The optimism that had once run her life had been all used up previously, and now, when she found herself helpless and so afraid, she was left with nothing but the darkness of her room and cold sheets. Paige pulled her legs up to her chest for warmth and a false sense of security, staring at the stone walls with eyes that would not be closing for a long while. She would go on here, learn all she could, and maybe in that learning, in her enthusiasm, she would find something new to do with her life. Maybe she could even become a hand of the Valkyries, of the women that had given so much to her. It was the only thing she could think of.
The door opening cast a pale sliver of light into Paige’s room, almost romantic before her arrows clattered to the ground. She sat bolt upright, knife, another gift, already in hand, before she saw Sigrdrifa’s face in the now open doorway. She smiled as she entered, clothed in battle gear, and Paige knew all too well what her first words were going to be.
“I hope you slept,” Sigrdrifa, the woman who had originally found her and now took it upon herself to train her in the ways of the Valkyrie, commented, crossing her arms. “It seems the elves are messing about amongst themselves. As bad as your humans, the elvish, for killing their own kind, but they make good warriors. Meet me in the stables.”
Paige nodded and slipped out of bed as Sigrdrifa closed the door, making her way to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulling her nightgown over her head as she did so. She knew well enough to get ready quickly; they did not appreciate dallying, and pulled on her battle uniform with practiced speed. Her skirt, which barely passed the fingertip rule, was made all the more indecent by the four high slits that made it easier for. Her top was a leather corsetlike contraption of all things, and had taken her a long while to get used to not that she’d even managed to like it, although, it was a vast improvement to the triangles of fabric that she had had to originally train in. There was a cape that went with the ensemble which she left in the chest and instead pulled out a pair of cuffs, followed by her boots and were the only two items that she didn’t mind overly much. At least they were comfortable.
The halls were full of activity and Paige stepped out, but she managed to part the chaos with her confident stride, making good time in getting to the stables. Brightwing was already out and waiting for her; she didn’t like someone else having to tack up her horse, but she understood the necessity for speed. Mounting her horse in a smooth motion, the two of them rose into the air with the rest of the fleet and Paige prepared herself for the short flight to the battle grounds. Everything was a short flight when you were on a flying horse.
This wasn’t the first time Paige would go out with the Valkyries. She didn’t have the gift of foreseeing death like the rest, but those who had been chosen to be a rider went to choose from the slain. Then again, no one had ever better chosen for a rider who hadn’t had the sight.
“I don’t understand how this could have happened,” Paige heard one of the other Valkyries saying, over the roar of air around them. “How could we have not known of this battle until now?”
“Something is wrong,” agreed the woman Paige knew as Freyja and leader of the Valkyries. “Our sight is delayed, sluggish, and when it does come it wavers like ones reflection in the water when a stone has been thrown in. Let us hope that nothing has happened to Odin.” She gave Paige a brief, narrow look.
And this is why as Angelo and Paige never saw each other, like two ships in the dark, for just as she was arriving, he had entered the tent. She was gone by the first light.
The hem of Paige’s nightdress still dragged on the ground as she walked, even after they’d had it hemmed. It made the palest of whispers against the stone and should have been comforting but her mind didn’t occupy the place where rationality was held. They, the Valkyries, for she was one of them now, had moved from their campsite to stay a while at the hall. No battles were raging currently, she knew that and was thankful, and so there was no need for the winged creatures and their riders to be out. Instead, they had had the task of amusing the fallen soldiers, of trying to fill their hearts that were no longer there. It seemed like everyone in Asgard was getting propositioned tonight.
But that had been hours ago, many short hours in comparison to the long ones she had spent in the hall. Now, she readied for bed, a comb in her hand. The other women had tried to convince her to either cut off her hair or stay put long enough for them to create the elaborate braids of their kind, but she’d have nothing of the sort of either and now she grew to regret it. There was nothing to be done with it; it would simply have to stay like this. But how could they have asked her to braid it when there were so many other new things to learn and Jono preferred her hair long?
There was a wrench in her chest, a physical pain that hurt so badly she was forced to squeeze her eyes closed tight and hope hard that it would pass. But it didn’t, it only seemed to increase, and her comb made a frightful clatter against the wall when she threw it with all the strength left in her. Paige looked up at the noise, finding something not quite like herself in the filmy mirror. She raised a hand to touch her nose, her cheeks, and found it was still her, except for someone else’s eyes that were so hollow and a mass of blonde tangles. Tugging at the knots with fingers made into claws she managed to tame it as best she could in her fury and put it in two small, simple braids by her face to keep it out of her way, the rest tumbling down her back. This would have to do.
Her spear leaned by the bed as she approached it. Paige still had trouble with that. Her spear. She owned a spear. A spear she had made herself with the same absolute perfection that she forced herself to do everything. There was a bow and a quiver of arrows by the door, which the other women called hers, but she laid no claim to them. She had not made them and she had no skill with them, so how could they be hers? Yet, Paige still practiced with them once a day, as instructed, and was making progress. Her spear lessons were twice a day, and while those went much better, the last couple of days she could not manage to put any heart into it.
The first weeks had been wonderful and exciting with all her spare time spent training and learning everything she could. When she slept it was soundly and when she ate it was full meals. Her skin added extra freckles to its collection, especially across the bridge of her nose, as she never had a reason to husk, and for goodness sake, she was learning to ride a flying horse. This was the experience of a lifetime. No one could ask for better. But on the morning of the twentieth day there, her eighteenth, she had awoken to realize that she was not going home. This was no longer a game, nor was it fun.
Paige had planned out her entire life when she was a little girl. Her father had just died and her brother was leaving for the most wonderful school in the world and even then she owned a mechanical pencil and an affinity for making lists. So that day, sitting on her porch swing, she had made a list of what she was going to do with every year of her life until she was forty-five, for at that point she would be too old to do much living anyway, and knew exactly what she was going to do with her life and when, and until that very morning, she’d lived out her life exactly to plan. That morning, buried under a sea of furs and staring up at a tan ceiling, Paige found herself not knowing what she was going to do with her life and it scared her beyond anything she’d ever encountered.
It was weeks later, and she could breathe now when she thought about it, drawing back the covers to her bed, but she still didn’t have an answer. The idea that this was just a vacation and she was going to go home with so much to tell everyone was but a distant memory. She wasn’t going home. The optimism that had once run her life had been all used up previously, and now, when she found herself helpless and so afraid, she was left with nothing but the darkness of her room and cold sheets. Paige pulled her legs up to her chest for warmth and a false sense of security, staring at the stone walls with eyes that would not be closing for a long while. She would go on here, learn all she could, and maybe in that learning, in her enthusiasm, she would find something new to do with her life. Maybe she could even become a hand of the Valkyries, of the women that had given so much to her. It was the only thing she could think of.
The door opening cast a pale sliver of light into Paige’s room, almost romantic before her arrows clattered to the ground. She sat bolt upright, knife, another gift, already in hand, before she saw Sigrdrifa’s face in the now open doorway. She smiled as she entered, clothed in battle gear, and Paige knew all too well what her first words were going to be.
“I hope you slept,” Sigrdrifa, the woman who had originally found her and now took it upon herself to train her in the ways of the Valkyrie, commented, crossing her arms. “It seems the elves are messing about amongst themselves. As bad as your humans, the elvish, for killing their own kind, but they make good warriors. Meet me in the stables.”
Paige nodded and slipped out of bed as Sigrdrifa closed the door, making her way to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulling her nightgown over her head as she did so. She knew well enough to get ready quickly; they did not appreciate dallying, and pulled on her battle uniform with practiced speed. Her skirt, which barely passed the fingertip rule, was made all the more indecent by the four high slits that made it easier for. Her top was a leather corsetlike contraption of all things, and had taken her a long while to get used to not that she’d even managed to like it, although, it was a vast improvement to the triangles of fabric that she had had to originally train in. There was a cape that went with the ensemble which she left in the chest and instead pulled out a pair of cuffs, followed by her boots and were the only two items that she didn’t mind overly much. At least they were comfortable.
The halls were full of activity and Paige stepped out, but she managed to part the chaos with her confident stride, making good time in getting to the stables. Brightwing was already out and waiting for her; she didn’t like someone else having to tack up her horse, but she understood the necessity for speed. Mounting her horse in a smooth motion, the two of them rose into the air with the rest of the fleet and Paige prepared herself for the short flight to the battle grounds. Everything was a short flight when you were on a flying horse.
This wasn’t the first time Paige would go out with the Valkyries. She didn’t have the gift of foreseeing death like the rest, but those who had been chosen to be a rider went to choose from the slain. Then again, no one had ever better chosen for a rider who hadn’t had the sight.
“I don’t understand how this could have happened,” Paige heard one of the other Valkyries saying, over the roar of air around them. “How could we have not known of this battle until now?”
“Something is wrong,” agreed the woman Paige knew as Freyja and leader of the Valkyries. “Our sight is delayed, sluggish, and when it does come it wavers like ones reflection in the water when a stone has been thrown in. Let us hope that nothing has happened to Odin.” She gave Paige a brief, narrow look.
And this is why as Angelo and Paige never saw each other, like two ships in the dark, for just as she was arriving, he had entered the tent. She was gone by the first light.
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