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Livia Landon

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a character in “Unworthy of Valhalla”, as played by juliebarnes

Description

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ImageImagexxxxxL I V I A x S U N S H I N E x L A N D O N
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"I was named for light and hope, born in the cold and dark. I intend to live up to it."


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xsunny x|x livvy x|x hawkeye
female
26
veiði-maðr
demiromantic pansexual
june 14, 1992
juneau, alaska, usa


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xxx..V A N I T Y
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honey brown x|x brunette x|x 5'5" x|x 125lbs

Livia's naturally pale colouring is complemented by a lack of blemishes, her skin clear and smooth. Her time spent hunting has added a healthy colour to her skin, so she's no longer the porcelain-pale beauty she was in her early years, but still remains largely perfect and untouched by the elements. Her naturally wavy hair has been through a variety of different styles, but currently it's a shade of walnut brown, cut in layers, and comes down to her chest. She often chooses to pin the fringe back while leaving the rest down, or to put it all in a braid that falls over one shoulder. She also likes to dye it different colours, experimenting with different colours, sometimes in interesting combinations. This is her sole source of vanity, and such pride manifests itself in her habit of twirling her hair, pulling out locks so she can examine them, and running her fingers through to admire its natural smoothness whenever she's bored. She figures, since she's put so much effort into her hair, she's allowed to admire it.

When working, though, it's as if she is a completely different person. Her usual relaxed posture seeps away, replaced with a taut energy in her muscles, making every movement carefully calculated and precise. Her eyes lose their soft depth, filled with a singular focus on her target. Her manner of handling her usual crossbow - or gun if the situation calls for it - is careful, almost reverent in the way her slender fingers clean and aim her weapon, her easy precision having earned her the nickname of a famous archer. Where she usually fidgets and taps on the closest surface or picks at her nails, she now stills when movement is unnecessary, sitting so still that she could be mistaken for a statue, sometimes even forgetting to breathe in her focus. Like slipping in and out of a comfortable coat, though, this can be shrugged off easily, her frame relaxing and her smile widening again with a blink to recalibrate her thoughts.

Livia's good at expressing her individuality in her appearance - aside from her colourful hair, she has two tattoos, a minimalist Gemini sign on her left wrist and a lunar phase armband around her upper right arm. She favours a more feminine style complemented by practicality, choosing to layer pretty blouses or dresses with more masculine military-style jackets and boots, so she's never caught unawares. She also makes a habit of keeping weapons on her body at all times, slipping daggers into her boots and cartridges into her purse. In addition to carrying weapons, her many pockets and portable hidey-holes are also great for carrying food - further proof of her practicality.


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S I M P L I C I T Y
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resilient xShe can - and has - bounced back from traumatising events, like some kind of inflatable punching bag.

curiosity xWhatever weird noise, odd shadow, sneaking suspicion, she's always ready to dive in and explore, even if it means throwing herself headlong into danger.

persistent xAs a dog.

empathetic xShe generally tries to align herself with others to understand their thoughts and emotions.


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reckless xHer overconfidence in her own abilities sometimes causes her to jump into situations without fully understanding them, putting herself at a very real risk of danger.

flighty xSometimes to the point of frivolity, so eager is she to give her attention to everything that demands it.

naive xIronic given her profession - she always tries to believe the best of others, unwilling to believe that people have the capacity for evil unless presented with proof.

unpredictable xRunning on her own motivations can cause her to be contrary to expectation - just when you think you know her, she veers off course.


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commitment xIt's why she chose the life of a nomad, always on the move, never having to settle for anything or anyone.

the sea xIt is vast, and with so much of it unexplored, anything could be down there.


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C O M P L E X I T Y
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practical x|x social x|x inconsistent x|x passionate

Highly practical and good at analysing situations, Livia can be very unsentimental when she wants to, which is what makes her such a good hunter. When push comes to shove, she always knows what she's ready to sacrifice, which pawns to sacrifice for her queen to advance, what she's gotta do to get shit done. It's usually at these times that one can observe the set of her jaw, the glint in her eyes that say I've got nothing to lose and you should get with the programme before I drop you too. This practicality also manifests itself in other aspects of her life - her hunting clothes are modified for increased practicality, and she never carries anything with her that doesn't have its use.

Despite that, outside of conflict Livia's actually a huge social butterfly, genuinely interested in getting to know and care for people. She's great at making conversation, and is generous with her emotional support, always ready to offer a listening ear or give advice whenever it is called for. She enjoys attention, and amusing people has its own cheering effect on her. She works hard to sync herself with others in order to better understand and empathise with them. However, she doesn't like being taken for granted - she's ready and willing enough to offer what she can, but when this becomes expected of her she's likely to withdraw it quickly, sensing that she might otherwise become little more than a tool for such people in future. She also really hates to appear weak in front of others, or to seem like she can't get by without help. Sometimes this independence contributes to her struggles, as she is stubborn enough to soldier on despite the odds stacked against her.

These two sides to Livia come together in a seemingly contradictory personality. Her people-oriented outlook on life, coupled with an ability to drop emotional bonds in a moment when she needs to, create a situation where she hurts others around her all too easily by leaving just when they believed their emotional bond might mean something. Livia never considers this, though, because her fear of commitment prevents her from staying in one environment for too long. Her ultimately fickle and capricious nature, though lacking in malice, often leaves others sputtering in the dust as she flits around fit to please herself.

Livia's passion is almost unmatchable in its strength. Once she decides she loves something, she's willing to fight for it, and she sticks strongly to her beliefs. She seems to possess an infinite trove of energy, always bouncing excitedly from one task to another. She's of the firm belief that if she does what she loves, she'll love what she does, so she always strives to give her all to every aspect of her life. Every day is a new day, every moment a new memory to tuck away, so she'll fight to experience it all until the day she's turned to dust.


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H I S T O R Y
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The way it was told when she was younger, Livia was a miracle. The youngest child to a couple thought barren after the difficult birth of her older brother, the dark-haired child, their second girl, arrived in the middle of an unnaturally heavy rainstorm. Caught out in their home with no way of getting to the hospital like they'd planned, the Landons had to make the delivery themselves.

It was a long and arduous morning, and as Cheryl Landon desperately tried not to scream in order not to scare her children in the next room, water crept into the basement, leaving a mark on the walls that would never really go away. And upstairs Cheryl pushed, crushing her husband's hand, praying that this child, their miracle, would make it so one more time. Later that afternoon, when the driving rain finally stopped and the sun broke through the clouds again, Livia was delivered, whole and pale and quiet and perfect.

To the once-hunter couple, an energetic child was nothing. Where Lilac was mature and studious and Lucas was sweet and imaginative, Livia seemed to be two people all at once, either tearing around the house at top speed trying to amuse herself, or lying very still, so quiet that sometimes her parents wouldn't realise they hadn't seen her in hours. It sometimes seemed like they had a fourth child, the way Livia managed to embody two different personalities. But she was loving and affectionate, and it didn't matter. Her presence was, like her middle name, the one sunspot of excitement in the Landons' otherwise tame lifestyle, having established themselves as part of Juneau's tourism front after their retirement. Their life was by no means lavish, but comfortable enough. The Landons and their three kids grew up just fine.

But no one can ever escape their past, not even a couple of ex-witch hunters. One remaining witch from a group almost extinguished - one of their last jobs before retirement - discovered the Landons, and recognised Joe and Cheryl as the duo who had pretty much killed their entire family, save for the one. In exacting his revenge, he kidnapped Lucas, the middle Landon child, and used him for a ritual to resurrect his dead family, blood for blood. The ritual bound Lucas to the witch, emptying him of everything and leaving him little more than a walking corpse for the witch to command. With a newly resurrected blood witch family on the loose, Joe and Cheryl had little choice but to break out their guns for one final hunt - their only son. When the dust was settled, Lucas lay at his family's feet, sweet, creative Lucas whose one dream was to become an animator.

Livia and Lilac had always known what their parents did in their life before children, but it was a truth Lilac couldn't accept. Devastated and eager to leave the traumatic memory behind, she hurried the marriage to her then-boyfriend, and moved away with her new husband to another state before Livia had even the chance to say goodbye. Livia, then only twenty, became her parents' only child overnight.

The remaining Landons lived in relative solitude for a while, trying to live as best as normal people could. Livia looked after her parents in the wake of her siblings' absence, and that next year she married her high school sweetheart. The young couple moved out of the Landons' home, to a little house nearby, so Livia could still keep an eye on her parents.

Put a frog into a pot of boiling water, and it will hop out immediately. Put a frog in a pot of lukewarm water, however, and it will remain there, even as you turn the heat up, and it will sit comfortably as it is boiled alive. Livia, similarly, never saw it coming. Her husband would come home tired, frustrated, sometimes drunk, and put his fist in things - first in pillows, then walls, then Livia. Quickly beaten into submission and silence, she did her best to cover up the marks, and remained her usual bright self when she visited her parents. But they knew their girl, and they could tell the difference between her naturally excitable self and the false front she put on, and it didn't take very long for them to realise what was happening. They took Livia back into their own home and persuaded her to leave her husband - she did, and bounced back from that pretty quickly, but kept her own fears close to her heart.

Once again alone, with only her parents, Livia thought it was finally time for her to break free and take her own steps. It had taken her almost 23 years, but she'd finally made the choice to continue her parents' legacy. She had the knowledge and the skills, and the strength to see her wish to protect through.


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xxx..hexcode x #302b54 xxx faceclaim x Crystal Reed xxx creator x juliebarnes xxx cs x Scar.-


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So begins...

Livia Landon's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Tove Blakely
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Footnotes

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L I V I A x L A N D O N

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When Livia woke that morning, she lay staring at the ceiling for a minute as she recollected her bearings. As much as she travelled, it still felt weird to wake up to a different room every now and then. At least this was much better than the American motels she normally stayed in. Footsteps sounded downstairs, no doubt the family that owned the bed and breakfast going about their day. There hadn't been any other guests when she moved in yesterday, she reflected, so less people to keep off her back.

Crap, it's the funeral today. And the room was so cosy too, she hated to leave it. But duty called, and with a low groan she rolled over, getting out of bed.

Twenty minutes later, Livia sat nursing a cup of coffee at the dining table, listening to the chaos that was the Lindström family in the morning. People would rush into the dining room, half-dressed and with uncombed hair, grab a piece of toast, and tear out again, only to leave their breakfast on top of a cupboard and forget about it while they went hunting for bags or shoes. This cycle would repeat itself until a woman strode in and chased everyone save for Livia out of the dining room, flapping her hands at them.

"Sorry about my family," she smiled at Livia. She searched her memory - this one would probably be Marie, the owner of the bed and breakfast. "More coffee?" Judging by her amused smile, Livia wasn't sure that she was really sorry, but it didn't really matter.

"Yes, please. And it's no concern, it's refreshing to see such a large family living together. I haven't been in such a lively house in years, ever since my sister moved out."

"Isn't that just how it is? I suppose I'll miss it when the children finally grow up and move out." Marie reached over, refilling Livia's coffee. Before she could respond, another girl, the youngest Livia had seen so far, came into the dining room, ducking Marie's outstretched arm to grab a roll and some cheese from the table. "American? You're completely out of season," she informed Livia, giggling as Marie started around the table, the coffee pot held out like a weapon. "All right, I'm going!" And she was gone, out of the kitchen again.

"Forgive my niece." Marie definitely wasn't apologetic now, her affection for the girl clear as she watched her scramble out of the room, almost tripping over herself before ducking into another room, out of Livia's line of sight. "She's very straightforward, kids her age, you know." Marie scrutinised Livia's outfit, then changed the subject. "What are your plans for the day?"

Livia tried to keep her voice casual. "I'm just visiting some family friends. Checking out the area." Marie nodded, got to her feet. "Family friends in little Geiranger, that's lovely. I'll leave you to it then. Just pop your head into my sister's cafe next door and holler if you need anything." She stood, gliding out of the dining room. Somewhere in the house a door slammed, then all was quiet.

Livia finished her breakfast as quickly as she could, then double checked her equipment - she wasn't expecting anything, but in foreign land one could never be too certain, and the weight of the collapsible crossbow tucked right into the very bottom of her purse was reassuring. Pulling her coat on, she left the house, headed for the funeral home.

By the time she got there, the funeral was already filled with family and friends of the deceased. She stood quietly by the back of the room, just observing. She spotted the wife and son, standing by the front, and waited until the end of the service when people began moving out of the room to approach them.

"Rolf and Eva, I presume? Hello. I'm Livia Landon - Anton was a friend of my father's. My condolences on his passing." She shook their hands in turn. "I just landed in Norway yesterday, my father sent me on his behalf. He and Anton were in the... hunting business together, you know, and on account of their friendship my father is anxious I should be involved in the search for the one responsible." She didn't like talking in euphemisms, but she had to be mindful of people who weren't aware of the entire situation listening in. "I am entirely at your disposal until this matter is settled. Again, I'm so sorry that we should meet under these circumstances."





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"Ceecee. You're drooling into your work. Ceecee!" A figure loomed over Lucia, hands reaching for her face. She sat up with a small scream, drawing back instantly.

"Burning the midnight oil again?" It was only Lise, her eyebrows raised in disapproval, reaching forward to close the laptop as Lucia moved back from the desk. Another hand reached over her shoulder to tug a sheet of paper away from where it had been sticking to her face. "Hoping to absorb her lecture notes by osmosis, more like," said Mats from somewhere over her head. "You're young and energetic, squirt, but you need to sleep on time." He ruffled her hair and returned the paper to Lucia's desk, turning away. "Lise, if you don't hurry up we're leaving without you."

"You're..." Lucia's mouth was dry, and her voice caught. She scrubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand, tried again. "You're all going out together?" The accusation was clear in her scowl - without me? While Lise explained, she combed her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the mess. Copper strands floated to the floor, tugged free, and she snatched her hands back immediately. Anja would complain about the amount of hair that Lucia shed for her to sweep up, as if coming from a family where thick red hair was abundant didn't make that a common sight.

"I'm walking the boys to work, then going down to the pier with my friends. Don't get into any trouble while we're gone," was Lise's lofty reply as she breezed out of the room. "And watch where you go, there's a hunter's funeral going on today." The hardness in Lise's voice was unmistakable, but Lucia had no chance to ask further questions, as her cousins were already bounding downstairs.

Lucia got out of the chair she'd fallen asleep in, her spine creaking terribly, and stood in the centre of her room, turning in a circle as she tried to recollect her schedule. Having memorised her notes last night meant that she could take it easy today, maybe study in her mother's cafe before class in the late afternoon. It would be a good day, a relaxed day, and maybe she could brew up a feel-good potion just to spit in the face of the dead hunter.

After getting dressed, she grabbed a stack of notebooks and her laptop and headed downstairs, but a strange voice coming from the kitchen stopped her dead on the stairs. "...ever since my sister moved out." No doubt one of Marie's bed and breakfast guests, but at this time of year? And American no less, judging by her accent. She crept down the stairs, catching sight of the stranger. The dark-haired woman looked friendly enough, like someone that Lucia would love to get to know, except that Marie already seemed at the end of her tether and questioning her guest in front of her would probably not earn Lucia any brownie points. Breakfast was probably a greater priority than the guest at this point. She darted downstairs and into the kitchen, reaching for the bread.

Barely escaping Marie's reach, Lucia darted in her mother's cafe next door, settling at a table while Helena started the coffee machine and slid pastries into the display case. There seemed to be changes everywhere today. A hunter's funeral taking place? An American sitting in their kitchen, completely out of season? It wasn't cause to be frightened, but it was still weird to consider. As she chewed on her stolen breakfast, she opened her laptop again, letting the system boot up.

"Jenta mi," Helena called over the counter. She beckoned Lucia over, waving a piece of paper at her. "Are you busy, can you run down to the shop to get me some things? I'll look after your things, have some tea waiting for you when you get back."

"O-kay," Lucia groaned, shutting the laptop again. "Give that here." She took the list from Helena, stuffing it into the front pocket of her jeans, then skipped out the door.

It was a short enough distance, and the weather was pretty good, so she opted to walk to the shop. The interior was dimly lit, and as always Lucia peered through the door to check if it was open. Spotting Tove sitting inside, she knocked smartly on the door, and pushed through after getting the dark-haired girl's attention. "He-ey," she sang once she was inside. "All cooped up as usual, my beautiful blackbird? It's a lovely day outsi - ooh, what are you reading?" She moved to look over Tove's shoulder at the book, her curiosity piqued.





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The day dawned bright and early to find Felix hunched in front of his computer, having been up for hours researching new plants. With the weather, he hoped to expand his garden - maybe flowers to brighten it up, or strawberries that he could use for recipes...

He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the sun had risen until the light shone through his window at just the right angle to hit his eyes. Scrunching his face up, he pushed his chair back and checked the clock. Damn, I was up the whole night again. He rubbed his eyes, then got up and got ready to start the day.

For Felix, this began with yet another attempt to perfect a recipe for cinnamon waffles. In half an hour, he measured, whisked, and mixed, then all activity abruptly came to a halt as he started his waffle maker and hovered over it, waiting for the mix to cook. When he finally popped it open, the kitchen filled with the bright and sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon, and Felix took the opportunity to snap a few photos for his blog's progress.

They weren't by any means the best waffles he'd ever made, but he grudgingly admitted that these were much better than his previous attempt. Sitting in his kitchen staring out the window at the space around his house, Felix noted that even for the outskirts of Geiranger it was oddly quiet. Too quiet. Probably a big event was going on in the village - he hoped nothing serious? Something that was none of his business, at any rate. He was well aware of his status as the self-imposed outcast of Geiranger, and he intended to keep it that way.

After breakfast was a careful cleaning of the kitchen, wiping down the various countertops and making sure everything was washed and put away. Felix supposed that he should have tried to be more economical with his space, but living alone had earned him the tendency to sprawl his work out over various surfaces, which of course made cleaning harder. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he remembered how his grandmother used to berate him for dirtying her pretty kitchen. He still missed her sometimes.

Shaking that thought out of his mind, Felix finished the cleanup, and went out to his garden to check on the plants. To his dismay, something had chewed through his vegetables, leaving gigantic holes in the leaves. Sighing, he searched through the pots until he found the culprits - a handful of slugs, hidden at the base of a spinach plant. Cursing under his breath, he was so preoccupied with trying to remove them that he barely noticed the girl in front of him until she extended a finger towards the plants. "What are those?"

Felix raised his head to look at her. She cut a pale figure, her outline shimmering, and though her face wasn't easy to place her hair definitely helped him along - Lofn. He remembered speaking to her a few times when he used his spirit magic to cross over into Vægher, and her presence was... less unwelcome than others'. "Spinach," he responded, pointing at the holes. "I was going to try making spinach flour, maybe cut some noodles from them, but the slugs got to them before I could."

He shifted his weight backwards, still squatting on the ground, and tilted his head at her. "What are you doing here, Lofn?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Gustav Landvik Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun Character Portrait: Tove Blakely Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild
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Anneka Svanhild
veidi madr| #9A32CD| outfit
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Raging fire, greedily lapping at everything Anneka held dear. Consuming, razing, contorting. She could hear the screams of her family as they burned in the hell she'd unleashed with her own hands. Then the cackling laughter as her sister dropped to the ground, blood seeping and staining the grass she'd used to play in. Her lips bubbled as she tried to say something, hand reaching for Anneka. Then, that form, shadowed by the flames. 'Don't forget me, little Anneka,' the words echoed. Then he was gone, leaving Anneka alone in a world of fire and screams.

Anneka gasped, her body tensing when Gustav called her to wake, his kiss feeling like a searing blade in the moment. She swallowed hard and glanced back at him as he moved away to get ready for the day, then at the clock beside her. She swallowed dryly and slowly sat up, a hand running through her tangled locks. She reached her free hand up to her chest trying to calm the fluttering. She shook her head and watched her lover move about the room before vanishing into the shower before she got up and went to the file that contained the details of the gruesome death of Rolf's father. The scene held in the pictures must have jogged her own memory. She hadn't had that dream in ages. But her experience and now Rolf's pointed to one thing.

These volva were getting more aggressive.

What was fueling them? Usually the volva tried to hide and stay unnoticed but lately they were going on the offensive. Was one volva leading others? Were these just random flukes? What gave this new generation of volva the balls they needed to attack not just one veidi madr, but the home of a veidi madr? And did this incident involve only one volva as had been the case of her family's murder? Why couldn't they find an inkling of a clue as to who the volva was? There had been no trace. They needed to do something about this. But not today. Today was for grieving, not working. She needed to be there for Rolf and his mother. She understood the pain of losing loved ones and nothing really lessened the pain, but being a shoulder of support was the least she could do.

She set the folder down when Gustav emerged from the bathroom and quickly went about getting herself ready for the day. She thanked Gustav for the coffee and drank it quickly so they could get going. They needed to be there before the others began piling in. Once in the funeral reception area, her heart squeezed in empathy for the little family beside the casket. She let Gustav give his condolences first before she approached Mrs. Nordskov with a bouquet of flowers she'd brought along. She offered her a hug as well.

"You have my greatest condolences, Mrs. Nordskov. I am so sorry for your loss. I know no words can really make it better, but I want you to know we are here for you in this hard time." She sighed and turned to Rolf then and sighed softly. Just as Gustav had done, she reached out to give him a hand shake which turned into a brotherly bump of their shoulders and a brief hug. "Rolf, I am so sorry about your loss. As I said to your mother, if you need anything, you let me know. I'll be there to help you in any way I can. Even if it is just to talk a little." She wasn't the most qualified of the group to talk feelings, but for a situation like this and for Rolf, she would do her best to be a listening ear.

With that said, she left a second set of flowers next to the casket and moved away, hanging at the edges of the funeral party to observe. She didn't want to interfere, and she was a natural watcher. It came with the territory of being a sniper. She was used to watching people, marking them. Towards the end of the service, her eyes fell on a young woman she was not familiar with. Her eyes narrowed. Who was she? He looked her up and down and tensed. Strangers were dangers after all. Could this be a volva intent on devastating the veidi madr ranks right here? She watched her approach Rolf and his mother and leaned closer to Gustav. "That girl talking to Rolf and his mother, do you know who she is?" she asked.





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Ivar Torrun
vaettr| #008B8B| outfit
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Ivar, like always, found his way to the church in his wanderings in Vaegher. It looked nothing like the glorious church of his memory. The great cathedral had changed over time so that even in the world of the living it had changed, but in the dark fog of Vaegher, it felt empty. It was a skeleton of its beauty. Ivar couldn't see the great paintings that adorned the walls. It felt like an abandoned graveyard rather than a place that housed the Holy Spirit, but it was the closest thing to the church and to God that Ivar had to seek out in the dark and dismal space. He'd spent so much time at the church towards the end of his life and now in this strange after life that every structure and crack was familiar to him and he could walk it blind.

It had been a long while since Leif had released him to return to Vaegher for a bit and oddly, he was happy to be back here. It was dark, misty, and raining, but being here meant he wasn't helping Leif murder and plot. Part of him felt bad for Leif. He remembered when the volva had been younger and curious about everything. He so desperately wanted to help the vaettr that were trapped here. He'd been a good kid, but the course of his life had turned haunted. He had good intentions but his path had diverged from the light so long ago now. Evil was paved with good intentions, as the saying went. It did make Ivar wonder about his own actions when he'd been living. Had the end justified the means? Hadn't he done a similar thing that Leif was doing now? The line between right and wrong were murky and he hated that once again the clear path before him had turned to a jungle.

Ivar shook his head and pushed back the black cape he wore with the red cross as he took a knee in front of the church's altar. He bowed his head and folded his hands as he began to pray.

“Have mercy on me, O God,
according to Your unfailing love;
according to Your great compassion
blot out my transgressions.
Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.
Against You, You only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in Your sight,
so that You are proved right when You speak
and justified when You judge.
Surely I have been a sinner from birth,
sinful from the time my mother conceived me…
Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me and I will be whiter than snow…
Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from Your presence
or take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.
Then will I teach transgressors Your ways,
and sinners will turn back to You.

God, please forgive me for my continued transgressions against your will, as I know that as I am tied to Leif, he will have me continue down this sinner's path. And forgive him too. Help me help him see the error of what he is doing, that he is not saving anyone this way. Lend me your strength. Amen."


With his prayer said, he stood and took a seat and just stared at the empty space. Could the Heavenly Father even hear his prayers in this strange after world? Ivar sighed and closed his eyes, content on just being here. The quiet pitter-patter of the rain was calming and in a way rejuvenating. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, since time in Vaeghar often felt like seconds and days. There was no night or day so telling time was really impossible. At length, he picked himself up and wondered if Lofn was around. He wouldn't call the volva vaettr a friend per say, but they often had debated and interesting discussions and perhaps she'd give him some insight in how to approach Leif again. Unfortunately for him, Leif had other plans.

"Ivar Torrun, I call you back to me." The words seemed to echo in Ivar's mind and winced as the mark on his chest blazed with its own fire, brightening and making Vaeghar look even more bleak with its grey pallet. Ivar reached up to touch the burning sigil and tried to resist it but it only burned bright, forcing Ivar to his knees. In seconds, his form faded from Vaeghar until he appeared before his master, the color of the world brightening beneath him. And so the cycle began again. Ivar got to his feet and dusted off before he looked over at Leif.

"You called?" Ivar asked dryly.






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Leif Blakely
volva| #8C1717| outfit
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Funeral day. What better time to work some magic, than a day to celebrate the dead? And not just any dead person, but a veidi madr. Leif couldn't think of a better way to honor the hunter than to use blood magic out in the open. These days didn't happen as often as they should and it usually meant the hunters wouldn't be prowling around looking for witches like himself. He'd been thrilled to find out that someone had killed the hunter, but he was a bit miffed that it hadn't been by his hand. He'd actually found out about the murder from his sister when she'd approached asking him if he'd done it. Whoever did it, needed to be praised and he wished he knew where to find the volva and embrace him. Or her. Whichever. Maybe he could ask them to join his budding 'order' to go up against the veidi madr. If the volva could just organize themselves under one banner and one leader like the veidi madr did, they'd be unstoppable. They'd have a force to finally rid the world of the veidi madr, but most vola he'd met were too scared to make any sort of move. Understandable to a point, but infuriating.

As always, his thoughts turned to Felix. He was one such volva who was too scared to actually do anything with his gifts. He was content to just live alone and die alone, only to be stuck in Vaegher regardless of the world's events. Well, fine. He'd show Felix that he would usher a new age, an age for the volva and finally break the curse that had settled on both the veidi madr and volva. All the spirits would finally be free of the gloom. Then maybe Felix would finally understand why he did all this, how much he was trying to save through his actions. Then Felix wouldn't have to be afraid.

"Focus, Leif, focus," he chided himself. He sighed and wiped his brow from the sweat that had gathered and sat back on his heels to look at his handy work. Before him was a large sigil, glowing red slightly and pulsing with its fresh application. The glow would fade momentarily as it entrenched itself into the dirt. He held a bowl of blood and there were several animals he'd drained to make the concoction that he now had to get rid of, but he was pleased. He'd gone about renewing the traps he'd laid out. Townspeople didn't often leave town and even fewer ventured far enough into the forest to reach the edge of the cliff that over looked the ocean, but on occasion he'd spotted veidi madr prowling about. Well, the next time one of those hunters walked here, they'd find a watery grave. He took out his special cloth and wiped up the blood on his hands and checked himself to ensure he didn't see any splotches of blood he'd missed. And this was why he always wore black. Black made blood hard to see, just in case he did miss something.

Leif cleaned out his bowl, being extra careful then to diffuse the magic that gathered in the blood and scrubbed it with the special sand his sister bought for him. He repeated the process with his ceremonial knife and tucked his tools away. He may like to play 'tag' and coast the line between saying he was a witch and acting upon it, but he wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to blatantly flaunt his utensils. Hunters weren't stupid and they would suspect something if they saw these tools on him. He put on gloves then and picked up the small dead animals and hurled them into the ocean. Even if the animals were found, he never touched them with his bare hands so the police or the hunters would never be able to find his DNA on them. With the clean up complete, he turned his attention elsewhere. Felix. Again. He really needed a new hobby, but he still worried about the volva. Felix was alone in the wilderness. He never saw him in town and so he had no way to know if the volva was still alive or sick or in need of help. Well, that's why he had Ivar, didn't he? Well, one of the minor purposes anyway.

The blood witch moved away from his trap to get some magical distance before he centered his mind and called the spirit to himself. It took just a touch longer than usual but soon, Ivar appeared kneeling in front of him. As always when he first summoned the spirits into the real world, Ivar looked like he existed in the land of the living. He wasn't transparent and anyone could touch Ivar though he'd be cold. The only thing that gave him away was the dead look in his eyes.

"You called?" Ivar answered him as he stood.

"Aw, you're cross with me. Were you praying again? You were, weren't you?"

"I was. Thankfully you didn't interrupt this time."

"I don't understand how you pray and keep your faith considering what you've seen and done. He won't save you. Regardless, were you mourning the veidi madr too?"

Leif was rewarded when Ivar's eyes widened and the dead crusader looked up at him. "A veidi madr died?"

"Yes. The funeral is today. Considering you were in Vaeghar, I am surprised you didn't know. Before you ask, no, it wasn't me. Regardless, I called you back because I want you to check on Felix."

Ivar sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Why don't you check on him yourself? You should talk to him." Maybe the other peaceful volva could find a way to deter Leif from all this death.

"He refuses to speak with me, or have you forgotten the last time he rebuffed me? He knows you are tied to me but he seems less averse to your presence than to mine, though why, I have no idea. Save your energy though. You can appear as just a spirit there. He'll still be able to sense and communicate with you considering his abilities. Then report back to me."

Ivar gave a nod as he vanished and reappeared as a ghost on Felix's property. Perhaps he could convince Felix to talk to Leif. Something had to change if he was going to stop Leif. He knew that if he didn't, Leif was going to cause chaos and bring death to so many people and in the end, Leif too would perish. He did not think the blood witch would survive long before he went mad and used too much magic and shredded his soul beyond the ability to repent.

As a ghost, the life around Ivar was blurred and details lost to him. It was a fog, but he could find Felix easily enough. As he approached, he stopped beside the house a bit surprised to see another spirit there. Unlike the rest of the world, she, he could see clearly, since they currently resided on the same plain. Lofn. What was she doing here? Had Felix called her?

Leif on the other hand returned home once Ivar had vanished. "I am home," he sang as he walked into his family's shop. He was surprised to see Lucia beside his sister, though he shouldn't have been. Lucia was often around his sister to the point Leif almost fancied her a little sister. "Well hello little firecracker. What are the two of you up to?" he mused as he walked over to them and draped his arms around the two.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Gustav Landvik Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun Character Portrait: Tove Blakely Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild
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lofn byström
vættrx|xoutfitx|x#E69C7A

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Brown hair rustled upon Felix’s head as he slowly looked up to meet her gaze. Lofn gave a soft smile. He was far more pronounced than the rest of Geiranger that glimmered through. Everything about the real world seemed to fade away when she was only surrounded by other Vætter. But in the presence of the living it seemed to shine through at the right angles like the way a rainbow is only visible in certain places. Everything made feint outlines, a mist of the world populating the emptiness of her purgatory.

But Felix was clear as day. It was like the völva’s powers combined with her own, removing the static to bring forth a clear image. It was easy for Lofn to forget he wasn’t real. There have been more than a few occasions where she made the mistake of trying to touch him. It’d make her fingers tingle like goose bumps from a cool breeze, but her hand would still pass through him. She could remain positive most of the time but the sinking feeling the weighed down her stomach when what she thought was real reminded her of the truth. Lofn tried not to do that anymore… It was something small, but it hurt.

"Spinach,” he replied to her inquiry, pointing to something she couldn’t see. But none the less, Lofn smiled nodding her head. Spinach. She used to love that as a girl. But she couldn’t even try to remember the taste. A soft sigh escaped her lips at the thought, but she didn’t let the struggle show on her face as Felix continued to speak toward her. "I was going to try making spinach flour, maybe cut some noodles from them, but the slugs got to them before I could.”

Lofn tilted her head slightly. ”Ground beetles kill slugs… And toads,” she suggested. Those were the methods she remembered her mother using. Of course, who knew what ways could be used now. But at least with the living creatures it worked more in the natural order of life. Nothing foreign or inhumane.

Felix shifted his weight and tilted his head toward her, asking in his more usual cold manner, "What are you doing here, Lofn?”

Her hands fell to rest in her lap. The tone of her voice was still gentle, not off put by his brashness. ”There’s a new soul… Here, in the Vægher. A hunter,” her voice trailed off, giving a moment’s pause before continuing. ”He’s a brash soul, complaining about how he was killed by a völva. Things are different. More souls keep showing up, but this was the first veiði-maðr in awhile. Everyone is on edge… Including your parents.” Lofn raised a hand to brush back her locks but continued to hold his gaze. ”I offered to come check on you… to put them at ease,” she whispered softly.

Even just in Felix’s presence, she felt the need to remain hushed about the favors she does, the knowledge she knows and her ability to communicate freely with him. They never knew who could be listening… in Geiranger or Vægher. ”Do you have any idea what’s going on? Who killed the hunter?” Chances were he didn’t know, but Lofn still felt the need to ask.

After a long moment, she extended her hand toward him letting it hover just above his. ”You should be careful… Leave Geiranger before—“ she paused mid sentence when something told her they weren’t alone. Ever since her time in the Vægher the magical energy made everything different than in the real world. Lofn’s soul could almost feel the aura of another like a soft breeze or light smell. She couldn’t decipher who it was but she knew someone was there.

Lofn pushed her hands off her knees and stood up, glancing around for whomever joined them. ”We’re not alone,” she spoke only loud enough for Felix to hear her. Slowly she stepped forward in what felt like the right direction until she saw him, standing beside the house. ”Ivar?” she called out toward the Vætter, her tone curious as to what he was doing there. Did he follow her? It wasn’t like spirits just stumbled upon this place.




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rolf nordskov
veiði-maðrx|xvölvax|xoutfitx|x#8BA3A6

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Rolf had a hard time keeping a straight face while Gustav gave them his condolences and compassion, or as much compassion as the man could show. He never knew his leader to be much for sentiment or compassion. Gustav always seemed to have a one track mind when it came to hunting völva, and a death like Anton’s would only give someone like him more fire to burn under the other hunters. Rolf didn’t believe much of what he said, aside from the ’will suffer more than any völva ever has before in Geiranger.’ That he believed with every fiber in his being and it sent chills down his spine.

He was pulled from his own thoughts when Anneka stepped forward, handing his mother a bouquet of flowers and a caring hug. Unlike Gustav, Rolf believed every word she said. She was a woman of her word, honest and loyal. He never quite understood what she saw in Gustav, but that wasn’t his place. "You have my greatest condolences, Mrs. Nordskov. I am so sorry for your loss. I know no words can really make it better, but I want you to know we are here for you in this hard time.”

”Thank you, sweet girl,” Eva replied with a weak smile while brushing a strand of Anneka’s hair from her face.

The blonde then turned to Rolf, taking his hand in a shake which grew to a gentle shoulder bump and a brief hug. "Rolf, I am so sorry about your loss. As I said to your mother, if you need anything, you let me know. I'll be there to help you in any way I can. Even if it is just to talk a little.”

Rolf cleared his throat while nodding his head. All the while he tried desperately not to ring out his hands while his heart slammed against his ribcage, threatening to reveal his secret. ”Thank you,” was all he could manage to say in response before the couple left them to converse with the others at the funeral.

Toward the end of the ceremony, a brunette woman, not of Geiranger made her way toward Rolf and his mother. His eyes widened slightly as he glanced over at his mother briefly. He had no idea who this woman was… Was she another hunter? A völva come to attack them at their moment of weakness? Or worse, someone who knew his secret? He didn’t realize he was holding hid breath until his mother took his hand to gain his attention. He finally exhaled, looking to his mother who gave him a reassuring smile while her thumb stroked the back of his hand. As much as he appreciated her support and love… Each moment this secret weighed on him, he feared the consequences and their affect on her.

"Rolf and Eva, I presume? Hello. I'm Livia Landon - Anton was a friend of my father's. My condolences on his passing,” the stranger said while taking each of their hands in a friendly greeting. So, she wasn’t from Geiranger, or Norway for that matter. Her American accent made her stand out like sore thumb compared to the others. "I just landed in Norway yesterday, my father sent me on his behalf. He and Anton were in the... hunting business together, you know, and on account of their friendship my father is anxious I should be involved in the search for the one responsible.” And there it was. Another veiði-maðr in this small village. Rolf felt like he was suffocating in all of this… Hiding himself from those who knew him, that he knew like the back of his hand was easier than trying to play false to some stranger.

"I am entirely at your disposal until this matter is settled. Again, I'm so sorry that we should meet under these circumstances.”

Rolf was at a loss for words, but thankfully for him his mother stepped forward. ”Any friend of Anton’s is a friend of ours,” Eva smiled warmly, gently grasping the woman’s upper arms in a kind welcome. ”We appreciate you traveling here on his behalf and any help you offer.”

”Yes, thank you… Ms. Landon.” The harder part was over, but the day had yet begun. Although the ceremony was finished, the veiði-maðr always celebrated the life after morning the death. Rolf wanted to drink himself under the table to forget, but with this knowledge… this secret… He could never touch a drop again. He was too scared to let himself lose inhibitions… who knew what they would do.




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tove blakely
völvax|xoutfitx|x#9D89A8

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Tove had been at it for awhile. It was always obvious when she was getting deep into something, there was an intense look about her, usually staring at books like she was threatening to divulge all of its secrets. She had already resorted to twisting her long raven hair up into a messy bun of sorts to keep it out of her way the farther she explored into the numerous books and tomes. She had lost a couple pencils having stuck them in her hair and forgetting they were there moments later.

It didn’t take long for her to get lost in thought and research. Locator spells weren’t particularly difficult, but often involved blood of the person you were trying to find… So, relatives were useful. But, Tove didn’t have that. She had nothing to go off of aside from the culprit being a völva. At first she looked into locator spells, but they all called for something she didn’t have the means to possess. So, no good. Her next option? Well, it was the long and grueling one. She would have to toil over mountains and mountains of books until she could hopefully find the spell that was used to kill the hunter.

Tove adjusted herself on her seat, bringing her left foot to sit on the edge of the chair. She rested her left palm on her knee with her chin upon the top of her hand. Her grimoire laid to the right of the table with loose pages spread out everywhere, while several tomes were opened before her. She froze, looking toward the door of the shop when she heard a knock. Tove didn’t move her gaze from the door as she leaned forward, grabbing a handful of the dust she concocted earlier. "He-ey,” a voice sang from behind the door as it was opened.

A lively mess of red hair and freckles bounced into the shop with a contagious smile. Tove gave soft sigh, releasing the dust back into the mortar. She dusted off her hands as the young girl entered and came toward her. "All cooped up as usual, my beautiful blackbird? It's a lovely day outsi - ooh, what are you reading?” Lucia asked as she glanced over Tove’s shoulder at the strewn mess upon the table.

The raven haired woman chuckled softly as she reached out and grabbed another chair at the table. She pulled it up beside her and patted the seat for the girl to join her. ”Many… many books,” Tove sighed softly with a weak chuckle. ”I am trying to figure out who killed the veiði-maðr.” She tapped her pencil on the table as she pursed her lips. ”But since I have nothing to go on beside hear say… it’s proving to be quite difficult. You wouldn’t have happened to heard anything on your neck of the woods?” It was unlikely, but something could have been heard in her family’s inn. Anything was more to go off of than what Tove knew. The only information she could find was that there wasn’t enough of him to bury or even cremate. A human bomb covering the room in a bloody Rorschach. It sounded like something Leif would be capable of… But there was blood everywhere and he would use up every drop for his own uses.

"I am home,” Leif’s voice called out as he entered the shop. Tove only glanced up briefly before looking back down to the task at hand. "Well hello little firecracker. What are the two of you up to?” he asked as he moved over to the girls, resting his arms along their shoulders.

Tove’s brows furrowed at one of the books as she abruptly closed it and dropped it in a stack on the floor to her left. Then grabbed a new book from the stack at the other end of the table, opening it in the old one’s place. ”Trying to figure out who the killer völva is.” She glanced over her shoulder toward him for a moment. ”Have you heard anything new?”




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gustav landvik
veiði-maðrx|xoutfitx|x#9B937E

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Gustav and Anneka moved away from the morning family, leaving them to deal with the others that came to pay their respects. All the while as they moved around the hall, he let the blonde beside him have his arm. When they found a place to stand and observe off to the side, he lightly patted her hand on his bent arm. Eventually his gaze found it’s way toward her own, locking on a brunette woman… Stranger no doubt, speaking with Eva and Rolf. His eyes squinted slightly as the questions quickly plagued his mind.

He could feel Anneka slowly leaning in closer to him and speaking with a hushed tone. "That girl talking to Rolf and his mother, do you know who she is?”

He shook his head. ”I haven’t a clue,” he said quietly.

Once the ceremony had ended, the crowd began to depart. Those whom were no hunters but friends left and were on their way while the hunters lingered. When only veiði-maðr were left, they descended down into the hunter’s barracks beneath the church, it’s entrance hidden back beyond the alter. Down below, the second part to the passing of a veiði-maðr took place. It was custom to first morn, then celebrate the life of the person who has left this world and found their place in heaven among the hunters of ages past. As per custom, to start the celebration, the leader of the veiði-maðr is to say some words in honor of the fallen hunter and their family.

Gustav gave Anneka a kiss on the cheek before slipping from her grasp. He grabbed himself a drink before he stood before the others that were gathered there. He gently clinked a utensil against his glass to get everyone’s attention. ”I know today has been a hard day for us all, Rolf and Eva more than the rest of us. Anton was a great man. He was loved and respected by each and everyone of us. There has never been a veiði-maðr as loyal, strong and dedicated as him. Seeing him go will not be easy on us, but we take comfort in knowing that he has ascended to heaven to live amongst the veiði-maðr of old until we too join him.”

He took a moment to take a deep breath, shifting the conversation to more important matters. ”Anton was a big blow, not just on us as a family, but on the veiði-maðr. Never before has a völva been so bold as to come into our homes and strike us down where we sleep. This attack is personal. This is beyond defense or self preservation… And I believe this to be an act of war. We will discover who did this to Anton and stop them before they take another innocent life! Today we celebrate the life a great man and tomorrow we no longer hunt from the shadows, but finally work to once and for all purge Geiranger of the völve and their taint.” With that Gustav raised his glass in a toast and then finished off his drink.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun Character Portrait: Tove Blakely
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L I V I A x L A N D O N

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r o l e x // x veiði-maðr
h e x x // x #302b54
o u t f i t x // x x

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The confusion on the son's face was understandable, and for a brief moment Livia wondered if maybe it would have been better to wait a few days after the funeral to introduce herself to the grieving family after all. She steeled herself, prepared to apologise and leave, when Eva took a step forward and placed her hands on Livia's arms, meeting her gaze.

"Any friend of Anton's is a friend of ours. We appreciate you travelling here on his behalf and any help you offer."

"Yes, thank you... Ms. Landon."

"Please." Livia waved her hands back and forth, her pleasant smile slipping back on like a second skin. "It's the least we can do. And, call me Livia."

Looking around, she noticed that the funeral attendees were beginning to leave, though a few who seemed to be close friends of the deceased remained, waiting. That was probably her cue to go, too. "This is my number -" she dug a post-it out of her bag and a stray pen, and scribbled down the number she'd be using during her time in Geiranger "- do call me soon, and we can talk a little more. Thank you very much for your welcome, and I'm sorry, again, for your loss. If there's anything else I can do, feel free to let me know." She met Rolf's eyes, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away. It seemed to be all the support she could offer for now.

The confused and occasionally suspicious murmurs that had surrounded her ever since she'd entered the funeral home didn't ebb as she left, and the people that parted to let her through had gazes that followed her movement, almost seeming to bore holes into her skin. She pulled the door closed behind her as she stepped out into the cold air, and suppressed a shudder that had nothing to do with the temperature at all.





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L U C I A x D A G N Y x H A L L

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r o l e x // x völva
h e x x // x #a2627a
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Lucia hopped onto the offered chair, peering at the tiny words on the page in front of Tove. Maybe because she'd fallen asleep studying her own books, but these were nigh impossible to read, the letters jumbling themselves up every time Lucia tried to make sense of them. She scowled at the words. Why couldn't old books ever be easier to read?

"I am trying to figure out who killed the veiði-maðr. But since I have nothing to go on besides hearsay... it's proving to be quite difficult. You wouldn't have happened to heard anything on your neck of the woods?"

Lucia shook her head, red curls flying. "Not much. Mats's been making guesses, but that's all they are. Stefan really doesn't want to have anything to do with it, so without his cooperation Mats has no way of knowing anything - I think I told you before, they can't make accurate predictions unless they work together." Sending up a silent thought of gratitude that she didn't have powers that relied on a twin's cooperation, she continued, "We don't really know anything. Mama's worried about getting too involved, and Aunt Marie won't say anything about it either. There's only been whispers in the cafe." Considering the network that Lucia's family afforded her, knowing this little was frustrating - she couldn't imagine how Tove must feel. All the same, it was hard to picture any of the völva in their community being so violent, let alone in an unprovoked attack against a veiði-maðr.

"I am home." Lost in thought, Lucia startled at the voice. She hadn't heard the door. Twisting around in her seat, she sighted Leif walking into the shop, leaning over the two of them. "Well hello little firecracker. What are the two of you up to?"

Lucia smiled at the nickname, relaxing into her chair again. "I'm just here to bug Tove, and steal the oxygen in the shop with my chattering," she laughed. "Tove, I forgot - mama asked me to pick some things up, I should be heading back soon. I can help myself though, don't you bother yourself over me!" So saying, she gave Leif's hand a friendly pat and swung her feet to the floor, pulling the list out of her pocket and consulting it as she began to look through the things in the shop.





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Lofn's news did not start off alarming - hunters were bound to end up in the Vægher sooner or later, the trouble they always got themselves into. Hardly any of his business. But her next words were definitely cause for concern. "Everyone is on edge… Including your parents. I offered to come check on you… to put them at ease."

Felix's expression softened immediately at the mention of his parents. "Tell them I'm fine - I'm just fine. No one bothers me out here. Well, besides you." He raised his eyebrows, indicating it was only a joke. She should know that he never minded her presence that much, especially when she was kind enough to do his parents favours out of all the souls in the Vægher. "I appreciate you helping them out, Lofn. Their... friends weren't too good to them when they were alive. Knowing that they have a friend in you in Vægher is a comforting thought." He felt the familiar bitterness rising in his voice, and try as he might it would not go away entirely.

"Do you have any idea what’s going on? Who killed the hunter?"

Felix shook his head, turning his attention back to the spinach, combing his fingers through the leaves idly. Talk about the veiði-maðr always made him itchy and fearful in a way he couldn't quite place. "I hardly know who he is, I haven't been into town for a couple of weeks now. You'll get no news from me." I shouldn't be surprised if it was Leif, he thought, but perhaps it was unfair to point fingers without knowing anything. Even if that finger was pointed at a murderous völva who was more than happy to bleed himself dry in order to hunt the veiði-maðr down himself.

Her hand drew close to his, her voice low. "You should be careful… Leave Geiranger before -" The hitch in her words caught Felix's attention. "What? Is something wrong?"

"We're not alone." Normally the mention of another presence hanging around would only irritate Felix more, but the hushed tone of Lofn's voice was enough to put him on edge. Whoever it was...

"Ivar?"

Felix's tension vanished in an instant. He knew that name, much as he wished he didn't. Damn Leif. He still refused to leave him alone. It had been literal years, and he still acted as if he had some right to continue intruding on Felix's life. Didn't he have anything better to do with his spirit servants? He got to his feet, raising his voice, uncaring of how Lofn would respond.

"If you're here to get news for Leif, Ivar, you can tell him I want him to fuck off. You and him both, actually. Get off my property."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Gustav Landvik Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun Character Portrait: Synnove Vollan Character Portrait: Kristoffer Årud Character Portrait: Camilla Omdahl Character Portrait: Tove Blakely Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild
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Footnotes

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Ivar Torrun
vaettr| #008B8B| outfit
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Ivar didn't know what to make of Lofn and Felix. Lofn should not be here unless Felix had summoned her as Leif had summoned him. But from what he remembered of Felix, he was not the kind of volva to do something like this. So how was it that Lofn was here? Did she know of another way to appear in this realm without the aid of the living? What was more important was why Lofn was here. If Felix had summoned her, what purpose did he have? Felix was solitary. He didn't seem to care about the struggles between the volva and veidi madr. Was he trying to reach out to his parents perhaps?

At Felix's words however, the spirit faltered. The forceful command may have sent him away from the man's territory, but Leif's strength and command kept him anchored. Either way, it wasn't a very nice feeling. He had hoped that maybe Felix would be open to an exchange with Leif after all this time, but it appeared the man still had no intention of doing that whatsoever. He sighed. His hope for Leif was dwindling. Felix was the only one that could maybe talk some sense into the volva's thick head. And he truly wished he could leave as Felix obviously wished of him.

"Felix. I will give him your message. I wish I could depart. Leif requested I check in on you, make sure you are safe. I can't leave so quickly. It is good to see you are well however." Ivar turned his attention to Lofn then. "Hello Lofn. I am surprised to see you here as well." A part of him was uneasy about it, however. He would have to tell Leif about Lofn though he didn't want to. What would be the volva's response, knowing that a spirit was around Felix? Something in him dreaded the man's response.

"Did Felix call you here?" he asked then. He hoped that wasn't the case. Felix had to know that being bound was horrible. He did not wish it on Lofn, even from a gentle volva like Felix. Kind and good volva could turn wicked, after all, as had been the case with Leif. Magic truly could twist someone up completely in darkness. "And I have a word of caution. I am here by the command of a volva, Leif. Everything I see, I have to tell him. That means I must mention your presence here. I will try to keep it a secret as long as I can to protect you. I don't know what his response will be about the knowledge of a spirit here beside Felix. I hope he sees nothing of it. I just... I felt the need to warn you, in case Leif is unreasonable. He is necromancer and a blood mage."



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Leif Blackely
volva| #8C1717
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Leif watched as Lucia pulled away to start looking for the items on her shopping list. She really was a whirlwind of energy. Between his absence and meditation and his sister's researching habits, the house was often quiet. She certainly brought more 'life' back into the place with her presence. She was a sudden flame and he found her to be a good inspiration with her fire. She was always so eager and happy. A part of him wished he was that exuberant, and he wondered if he ever had been. Always consulting with the dead had a way of making one pensive. Yes, Lucia was definitely a much-needed pick me up if he was ever going to get things done.

”Trying to figure out who the killer völva is. Have you heard anything new?” his sister asked and brought his attention back to her.

"Sadly, nada. Ivar had no idea someone had died. So, either he can't feel it when someone passes on or he was oblivious in his prayers. Either way, no help to us," he sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if he ignores things on purpose just to spite me." He wouldn't put it pass Ivar to try and conceal things, render his help of no use in some way. Their relationship had become strained at times and it was only the fact that Ivar feared for his enteral soul that the vaettr didn't openly defy Leif and shred his soul himself. Still, it was annoying that he had to remind Ivar that he was bound in mind and purpose.

"Anyway, I sent him off to check in on Felix, see if he knows anything. I doubt it considering the fool blinds himself in ignorance. Buuuuuut, I say stay on your toes. Considering our reputation and our shop items, I don't doubt that a veidi madr or two may pay us an unwelcome visit. Make sure anything you use with real magic is out of their greedy little fingers," he mused. He knew his sister was cautious and wouldn't let the hunters notice, but he still wanted to warn his sister.

It was almost a game of cat and mouse and the danger was thrilling. The veidi madr knew their parents had been volva and had them killed. Leif and Tove were on the watchlist but they were both clever. They knew how to hide their magic and continued to look like silly mediums, regular folk dabbling in things without real power. Some of the towns folk new something was up and would never cross them, afraid it would come back to haunt them literally. Others were content to consider them charlatans who faked seances for the feeble minded. It suited Leif just fine. He enjoyed the fact that they stayed just a hand out of reach of the hunters.

"Gods I wish I could go to the scene of the crime and see what happened there. I would be able to find out who the killer was in a flash. But I am sure the veidi madr will have a shit ton more guards there now. I might be able to call on the vaettr himself, but it is too soon after the death to call him forward. He won't tell me what happened. But oooh, maybe I should have Ivar go back to Vaegher and seek out the dead hunter and ask him what happened. I don't know why I didn't think of that before." he mused. "The guy will be far more inclined to answer another veidi madr's questions. Anything else you want Ivar to ask before I call him back from his current task?"



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Anneka Svanhild
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Anneka watched the stranger the entire time she was present. Considering that a volva had gone into a hunter's home, she did not doubt that some would grow balsy enough to try and take down the whole force of the veidi madr in their time of grief. They would assume the veidi madr were weakened, distracted. Oh, they had another thing coming to them if they would try. The hunters were ever vigilant and would not stop being hunters, even on a funeral day; especially on a funeral day. She wished she could get her hands on the volva that had done this to Rolf and his family. She knew revenge would not stop the ache, but it would be ever so satisfying.

Anneka shook her head to clear her mind of such thoughts. She would not distract herself now. The young woman talked briefly with Rolf and passed a note to them before turning away from the service and heading out of the church. Hm. So she really was just here for the service. But how was she related to the family? Rolf and his mother didn't look like they recognized her. How had she heard about the funeral? Was she a veidi madr from somewhere else? If so, why did she not greet the rest of the veidi madr here? This girl was a puzzle and Anneka wanted answers. Nothing could stay unknown in this perilous time.

When Gustav motioned, they all retreated into their base, Anneka gave on last look at the door before she followed her leader to begin the celebratory portion of the service. Anneka drank little, not wanting to lose her wits. She was going to have to stay focused if she was determined to investigate the new face. Her attention settled on her man when he moved away to begin his speech.

”I know today has been a hard day for us all, Rolf and Eva more than the rest of us. Anton was a great man. He was loved and respected by each and everyone of us. There has never been a veiði-maðr as loyal, strong and dedicated as him. Seeing him go will not be easy on us, but we take comfort in knowing that he has ascended to heaven to live amongst the veiði-maðr of old until we too join him. Anton was a big blow, not just on us as a family, but on the veiði-maðr. Never before has a völva been so bold as to come into our homes and strike us down where we sleep. This attack is personal. This is beyond defense or self preservation… And I believe this to be an act of war. We will discover who did this to Anton and stop them before they take another innocent life! Today we celebrate the life a great man and tomorrow we no longer hunt from the shadows, but finally work to once and for all purge Geiranger of the völve and their taint.”

Anneka raised her glass with Gustav and drank its contents. She agreed full-heartedly that this was war. It had always been war, but now more than ever, something had to change. They couldn't keep dragging this out, waiting for some volva to make themselves known so they could target and kill them one by one. Too many veidi madr were dying this way. They had to ferret them out now. There couldn't be that many volva around. They'd taken care of so many. "Let's rid the world of these sinful bastards once and for all. They've murdered and corrupted this world long enough. I say we're the generation to wipe them out," she added. "We have the will and we each have different strengths. If we really work as a team, I think we can do it in record time. We must be clever about it. I do not want to see any more of our own die before their time.”