Further adventures in Asgard...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

In which Alison travels through Asgard, on a quest. Hrm, sounds familiar, much?

Wandering in an unknown land...
Weeks later...

Alison paused and looked down. A few dead leaves swirled in the wind at her feet, rustling almost mockingly – even they could talk of a sort, after all. She narrowed her eyes and stomped one down to crispy nothingness then looked at the road, taking a deep breath. Off we go again. This is really, really annoying.

Leaving the village after the attempted witch burning hadn't been much of an issue. Most of them had been blind and stumbling about as she stalked off, intent on finding out from some more 'civilized' people than where she was. The only ray of light (other than her power) that day had been the scrawny young man at the edge of the village. He'd seen her storming off and called out, before hesitantly offering her his cloak. The language barrier had been a mild problem and she'd been radiating heat in light wave to keep herself warm because of the weather, but apparently he'd decided to be gallant to the still skimpily clad woman. So in thanks she'd kissed his cheek before heading off in the direction of something or other he thought would help her.

By doing so she'd missed the sight of him staring at her as she left and then rising to his feet slowly once she had disappeared in the forest, looking down at himself in amazement before starting a small jig. Had she known Norse, she'd have known that the mostly incoherent gibbering was composed of "It's broken! The curse is broken! Thank you!"

Her first action once she was a fair distance away was to stop and make a 'shopping list'. The next village on her path had provided her with clothing (leathers stolen from a rack behind the tanner's, actually) which allowed her to hide the brace. And her legs, as well. She'd kept the cloak she already had, which proved to be thick, warm and to her surprise, waterproof to a degree. Food has also been 'borrowed' and she'd basically made her way from village to village until it felt safe to start walking through them rather than circle them.

Learning the basics of the language started as of then – she couldn't speak which either garnered her sympathy or scorn, depending on the people she approached. There had been another close call with the burning at the stake deal, neatly evaded by Alison herself vaporizing the stake and wood provided as fuel – in five seconds flat. The offer of food and gifts so she'd leave had been graciously accepted at this point, as had the ugly gelding who had tried to eat the man leading him to her. The gelding, once the first few arguments were settled, had proven to be an astonishingly reliable animal, sure-footed and smart. Scary smart, not that Alison had minded the morning she woke up to find a very dead something on the outskirts of the camp, tangled up in the rope she used to tie down the horse for the night. The horse (now dubbed Gorgeous) has seemed far too pleased with himself. (In fact, the horse was simply a man-hater. Alison was not male and fed him apples besides. And not only that but males actually tended to gravitate towards her, making her the perfect bait. Life was good for Gorgeous.)

The last village had been nasty. There was a wrongness about the place, noticeable as soon as Alison rode in. Furtive looks and hunted glances. People walking close to the building and not talking to each other. Alison had decided to ride through in fact and would have, were it not for the scream of indignation that drew her attention. (There were many peeved looks at it too, and a few people muttered 'Must that dratted girl be so opinated?' or 'Can't she do the right thing for the village, for once?')

Gorgeous had gleefully headed for the knot of people they saw after turning the corner of the main road of the hamlet – several men to stomp on all at once had just been too lovely an event. Alison, on the other part, had been more concerned with the plump blond girl laying about her with a skillet, yelling something about 'stupid louts' and something Alison thought meant 'I'll cook you up for the damn thing see how you like it!' only in not so many words and definitely involving foul language.

After some stomping on Gorgeous part (and kicking, which led to a few shrills screams) and Alison allowing one particular worthy to knock himself out on the brace she still wore (the resounding clang was assumed to come from Yngvildr's skillet at the time), matters seemed to settle enough for the girl's brothers to come charging through the crowd, followed by their parents. The gist of the matter apparently involved a dragon and a virgin sacrifice – the family of the girl was less them impressed with the notion, despite the vigilante group's best attempts at convincing them of the merit of the idea, up until Yngvildr had enough with the leader's arguments and knocked him out cold. As well as banishing him from the local meadhall. That threat apparently stilled the hearts of even the most determined of that group, and soon they dispersed, leaving Alison with an offer of room and food for the night (for the first time a real bed, bliss!).

The next day saw Gorgeous dragging around an unfortunate fellow by the foot in the courtyard (the local bard commenting that the horse had a good time sense, from the regular way the man's head would find a rock to bump against). This was the same unfortunate fellow who had been conked on the head by Yngvildr the previous day, as it so happened. The notion that the dragon wouldn't care about gender so long as the offering was a virgin came up and with many of the local girls agreeing vehemently, the notion of any sort of sacrifice was finally set to rest. Alison, of course, had not a single thing to do with this latest notion. Nope sir, not her.

Gorgeous earned more than a few apples that day as the children took to him (apparently, small teensy males were considered acceptable if they bribed him properly) and decided to make it a "spoil the stranger's horse day" and an impromptu party was declared to offset the recent gloom and doom that had haunted the village.

Now however, Alison was riding off once more, heading in the direction of rumors and stories about odd young people traveling through Asgard. People she thought might be those she was looking for (and not just Amanda, though that was still foremost in her mind, along with the hope that Miles was still home). There was a repentant snuffle like sound from behind, and Alison turned around to look up at the green scaled snout nearly dragging on the ground as the dragon followed her into the forest.

Honestly Frank. Did you have to eat all the harvest like that as a way of saying "Hi, I'm the not so local vegetarian dragon and oooOOooo that looks good?"

Alison sighed and turned again, her horse plodding along peaceably and not minding the oversized lizard-like dragon following them down the road, wings tucked tightly to his sides.