lofn byström
vættrx|xoutfitx|x#E69C7A
vættrx|xoutfitx|x#E69C7A
It was a day like any other day in Vægher. Night and day were no different, everything there was dark like a grey haze covered the world. Time worked differently, sometimes a year would pass by in a blink while other times it seemed as though everything was passed in slow. A fog always seemed to hover above the ground coming up to mid torso, covering Vægher in a dark cloud. Most of the Vætter that lived there allowed themselves to wither away. Their spirits becoming figures in the mist, unmoving and unchanging like transparent statues. Some even wondered past the borders of Geiranger, never to be seen again. Some believe they are the poltergeist that plague Vægher while others think they just disappear into nothingness. There was a sort of peace in that... Nothingness.
Lofn wasn't like that. Her light and optimism wasn't necessarily contagious, but magnetic. She was without a doubt one of the eldest Vætter, most having opted for nothingness or complacency rather than living... If you can call it that. Often times some of the Vætter flocked to her looking to her for reassurance and hope. She never minded helping them or being a shoulder for any of them. But she also needed the silence. It was only a handful of spirits that Lofn told of her quiet place. It was on the edge of the fjord, more of a swamp inside Vægher. It was more mud than water, that bubbled and probably would smell if she could smell. But there was a cliff that over looked it all... And from that high up she could almost imagine that she was back in Geiranger. That a stormed had rolled in, covering the valley in fog and darkness.
A couple walked slowly up towards the cliff, hand in hand. Leo and Karin Henning had hung around in Vægher long enough to know the place well, and with little else to do besides wait for their son to contact them, they'd taken to spending their time by walking all around Vægher, testing its boundaries. This day they were up on the cliff again, staring out over where the sea would be in Geiranger. The fog covered everything as always, blocking out the view they missed so dearly.
Leo caught sight of Lofn ducking into her quiet place, and he tugged on Karin's hand, pointing wordlessly at the spot where one could enter Lofn's secret place from, if they knew where to look. Glad to see a friendly face, Karin nodded, and together they headed towards the rock.
The wind began to blow, rustling the branches of the dead trees. Lofn closed her eyes feeling it move through her hair and rustle her dress. She could almost forget she was in Vægher and imagine herself on the side of the fjord in Geiranger, watching as the fishermen came and left the ports. It was funny how some memories could be so fresh like they happened yesterday... Yet the image of Freja's face seemed to fade more and more as the days chipped onward. She moved closer to the edge and leaned down, picking up a rock. Then Lofn threw it as far as she could, wishing she'd hear it skip in the water below but instead it disappeared in the muck of the swamp. As she looked around at the world below, she noticed a couple walking hand in hand, heading toward the path that lead up to the cliff.
Lofn smiled slightly, as she made her way to the path, deciding the steep and narrow hill. Her hands held onto leafless dead trees and her skirt stepping in each divet by memory. Halfway down, she reached the couple. Lofn offered them her hands and helped them ascend the tricky hill to the top of the cliff. She lead them over to a small opening with a few rocks that were well suited as chairs. She took a seat and offered the couple to sit with her. With a smile, she greeted them. "How are you both doing?"
"We're fine as usual, Lofn dear," Karin assured her with a smile, any resentment at her situation long burned away. It was how it was, and she and Leo just had to put up with it. "Just waiting for Felix," Leo added, his arm around Karin's shoulders. He had taken to Vægher less easily.
Karin gazed at Lofn fondly. It was still hard for her to believe, sometimes, that she was one of the oldest Vætter around. She still looked so young, like any of the children that she and Leo used to treat when they were alive. There were younger ones in Vægher, sure, but few of them were as gentle and loving as Lofn, and it broke her heart.
Lofn smiled warmly, extending her hand out to take Karin's in a kind and reassuring manner. "I'm glad you are well." She was glad the couple seemed to hold strong to their kindness that they had before they came to Vægher. Not everyone was so kind. She understood their worry for their son, Lofn witnessed the same concern consume her sister. "I understand it's hard, not being able to see him when you wish. I know you're worried for him with the veiði-maðr..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze fell. She allowed her thumb to gently stroke Karin's hand in comfort. "Would you like me to go visit him? See how he is doing?"
She never usually offered to do such things, because once one Vætter knew she could communicate with the living... They'd all know and Lofn would always be keeping tasks on everyone's loved ones. She wished she was capable of that, but she was only one person. But Karin and Leo weren't like the others, they respected Lofn's privacy and space. They never told anyone where to find her, nor put unneeded burden on her. It's been several months since the first time Lofn began keeping an eye on Felix... They never asked and she didn't mind offering. "If it would put your mind at ease, I do not mind going to see him."
Karin's breath hitched. After everything he'd been through, she couldn't fault Felix for withdrawing the way he had, but without a supportive network - the same network she and Leo had lacked, incidentally, that probably contributed to their death - it hurt her to see him so lonely and angry. "If you could just take a look at him every now and then, love, just to see how he's doing when he isn't talking to us... that would be great. Just make sure he's not getting into any trouble, you know?" Leo nodded, adding, "Only if you want to. We know the living world is exhausting, we just want to know he's safe." He paused, unsure how to proceed. There was hardly any way for him to repay her kindness. "Thank you for asking, Lofn. It really means a lot to us. There's so much we can't do here... We're so helpless, and Felix is so alone."
"It really is no problem, I assure you," Lofn replied to the worried couple. It wasn't much, but anything she could do to keep some of the vætter at peace was payment enough. It was a hard life, if you could call it that, in the Vægher. But it wasn't any better for the völva still left to live their lives in fear of the hunters, only to be locked here with the rest of them upon their death. She didn't know what help she could be to Felix, but stopping by every so often to make sure he is ok was the least she could do.
After exchanging a bit more with Karin and Leo, Lofn moved to her feet and bid the couple farewell. "Feel free to stay here. It's on of the few places not overwhelmed with Vætter. I'll come find you later after checking in on your son." She gave them both a reassuring hug, then descended down the path. Lofn had been a Vætter so long that the only thing that seemed to keep her from insanity was learning who all lived in Geiranger. Not that it was that difficult with such a small village, but it was just about the only thing she could do. So, she already knew where to find Felix, considering the völva rarely went anywhere other than his home on the outskirts of the town.
Being a medium in the Vægher was rare and a strange thing for Lofn to get used to. Not only was she surrounded by the other spirits, but the figures of the living wondered about like wisps. She could see their silhouettes like they were the ghosts. It could be quite overwhelming trying comprehend the dead and the living. Luckily, Felix lived farther out. He wasn't surrounded by a residual cloud of spirits that Lofn would have to sift through and there also was rarely other living people there as well. It'd be difficult to try and communicate with someone while surrounded by other Vætter... She'd have a queue of people wanting her to check on their families faster than she could say hello.
Lofn slowly made her way onto Felix's property being sure to take her time and walk out in the open. It had been such a long time since she was alive herself that she has forgotten what spirits look like to living mediums and she didn't want to startle or frighten him. She walked around the house until she found the young man in his garden. She only approached when she knew that she was in his line of sight, hopefully. Lofn lifted up the hem of her dress slightly as she squatted down and pointed at the plants. She couldn't make them out, only feintly seeing an outline. Objects never come through as strong as the living. "What are those?" she asked softly, trying not to startle him. A friendly smile crossed her lips as she looked toward him.
Lofn wasn't like that. Her light and optimism wasn't necessarily contagious, but magnetic. She was without a doubt one of the eldest Vætter, most having opted for nothingness or complacency rather than living... If you can call it that. Often times some of the Vætter flocked to her looking to her for reassurance and hope. She never minded helping them or being a shoulder for any of them. But she also needed the silence. It was only a handful of spirits that Lofn told of her quiet place. It was on the edge of the fjord, more of a swamp inside Vægher. It was more mud than water, that bubbled and probably would smell if she could smell. But there was a cliff that over looked it all... And from that high up she could almost imagine that she was back in Geiranger. That a stormed had rolled in, covering the valley in fog and darkness.
A couple walked slowly up towards the cliff, hand in hand. Leo and Karin Henning had hung around in Vægher long enough to know the place well, and with little else to do besides wait for their son to contact them, they'd taken to spending their time by walking all around Vægher, testing its boundaries. This day they were up on the cliff again, staring out over where the sea would be in Geiranger. The fog covered everything as always, blocking out the view they missed so dearly.
Leo caught sight of Lofn ducking into her quiet place, and he tugged on Karin's hand, pointing wordlessly at the spot where one could enter Lofn's secret place from, if they knew where to look. Glad to see a friendly face, Karin nodded, and together they headed towards the rock.
The wind began to blow, rustling the branches of the dead trees. Lofn closed her eyes feeling it move through her hair and rustle her dress. She could almost forget she was in Vægher and imagine herself on the side of the fjord in Geiranger, watching as the fishermen came and left the ports. It was funny how some memories could be so fresh like they happened yesterday... Yet the image of Freja's face seemed to fade more and more as the days chipped onward. She moved closer to the edge and leaned down, picking up a rock. Then Lofn threw it as far as she could, wishing she'd hear it skip in the water below but instead it disappeared in the muck of the swamp. As she looked around at the world below, she noticed a couple walking hand in hand, heading toward the path that lead up to the cliff.
Lofn smiled slightly, as she made her way to the path, deciding the steep and narrow hill. Her hands held onto leafless dead trees and her skirt stepping in each divet by memory. Halfway down, she reached the couple. Lofn offered them her hands and helped them ascend the tricky hill to the top of the cliff. She lead them over to a small opening with a few rocks that were well suited as chairs. She took a seat and offered the couple to sit with her. With a smile, she greeted them. "How are you both doing?"
"We're fine as usual, Lofn dear," Karin assured her with a smile, any resentment at her situation long burned away. It was how it was, and she and Leo just had to put up with it. "Just waiting for Felix," Leo added, his arm around Karin's shoulders. He had taken to Vægher less easily.
Karin gazed at Lofn fondly. It was still hard for her to believe, sometimes, that she was one of the oldest Vætter around. She still looked so young, like any of the children that she and Leo used to treat when they were alive. There were younger ones in Vægher, sure, but few of them were as gentle and loving as Lofn, and it broke her heart.
Lofn smiled warmly, extending her hand out to take Karin's in a kind and reassuring manner. "I'm glad you are well." She was glad the couple seemed to hold strong to their kindness that they had before they came to Vægher. Not everyone was so kind. She understood their worry for their son, Lofn witnessed the same concern consume her sister. "I understand it's hard, not being able to see him when you wish. I know you're worried for him with the veiði-maðr..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze fell. She allowed her thumb to gently stroke Karin's hand in comfort. "Would you like me to go visit him? See how he is doing?"
She never usually offered to do such things, because once one Vætter knew she could communicate with the living... They'd all know and Lofn would always be keeping tasks on everyone's loved ones. She wished she was capable of that, but she was only one person. But Karin and Leo weren't like the others, they respected Lofn's privacy and space. They never told anyone where to find her, nor put unneeded burden on her. It's been several months since the first time Lofn began keeping an eye on Felix... They never asked and she didn't mind offering. "If it would put your mind at ease, I do not mind going to see him."
Karin's breath hitched. After everything he'd been through, she couldn't fault Felix for withdrawing the way he had, but without a supportive network - the same network she and Leo had lacked, incidentally, that probably contributed to their death - it hurt her to see him so lonely and angry. "If you could just take a look at him every now and then, love, just to see how he's doing when he isn't talking to us... that would be great. Just make sure he's not getting into any trouble, you know?" Leo nodded, adding, "Only if you want to. We know the living world is exhausting, we just want to know he's safe." He paused, unsure how to proceed. There was hardly any way for him to repay her kindness. "Thank you for asking, Lofn. It really means a lot to us. There's so much we can't do here... We're so helpless, and Felix is so alone."
"It really is no problem, I assure you," Lofn replied to the worried couple. It wasn't much, but anything she could do to keep some of the vætter at peace was payment enough. It was a hard life, if you could call it that, in the Vægher. But it wasn't any better for the völva still left to live their lives in fear of the hunters, only to be locked here with the rest of them upon their death. She didn't know what help she could be to Felix, but stopping by every so often to make sure he is ok was the least she could do.
After exchanging a bit more with Karin and Leo, Lofn moved to her feet and bid the couple farewell. "Feel free to stay here. It's on of the few places not overwhelmed with Vætter. I'll come find you later after checking in on your son." She gave them both a reassuring hug, then descended down the path. Lofn had been a Vætter so long that the only thing that seemed to keep her from insanity was learning who all lived in Geiranger. Not that it was that difficult with such a small village, but it was just about the only thing she could do. So, she already knew where to find Felix, considering the völva rarely went anywhere other than his home on the outskirts of the town.
Being a medium in the Vægher was rare and a strange thing for Lofn to get used to. Not only was she surrounded by the other spirits, but the figures of the living wondered about like wisps. She could see their silhouettes like they were the ghosts. It could be quite overwhelming trying comprehend the dead and the living. Luckily, Felix lived farther out. He wasn't surrounded by a residual cloud of spirits that Lofn would have to sift through and there also was rarely other living people there as well. It'd be difficult to try and communicate with someone while surrounded by other Vætter... She'd have a queue of people wanting her to check on their families faster than she could say hello.
Lofn slowly made her way onto Felix's property being sure to take her time and walk out in the open. It had been such a long time since she was alive herself that she has forgotten what spirits look like to living mediums and she didn't want to startle or frighten him. She walked around the house until she found the young man in his garden. She only approached when she knew that she was in his line of sight, hopefully. Lofn lifted up the hem of her dress slightly as she squatted down and pointed at the plants. She couldn't make them out, only feintly seeing an outline. Objects never come through as strong as the living. "What are those?" she asked softly, trying not to startle him. A friendly smile crossed her lips as she looked toward him.
rolf nordskov
veiði-maðrx|xvölvax|xoutfitx|x#8BA3A6
veiði-maðrx|xvölvax|xoutfitx|x#8BA3A6
Rolf stood, frozen like a statue in the middle of their small Geiranger home. The light was drained from the room like a storm cloud blocked out the sun. His feet were cemented to the ground and when he parted his lips to speak nothing happened. Everything was void of sound, moving in a slow haze. He watched as Anton's oppressive form stepped toward his mother. His Step Father felt taller and more intimidating, almost too big to fit in the room. He raised his hand, balling his fist and struck Rolf's mother. The room began to spin as she fell to the ground and Rolf's vision faded to black.
When his eyes opened, the room was painted in a rorschach of red. The color faded from everything leaving the world a stark black and white with the glaring crimson daunting him. His fists clenched as they tried to stop the trembling that slowly worked its way up his arms. The high pitch screech of white noise blared in his ears as his mother ran to him. Her hands grasped his shoulders, trying to shake the shock and fear out of him. Rolf didn't move, the air knocked from his chest as he stared blankely at her face. She was shouting inaudibly, not out of anger but fear as tears filled her eyes. When they began to roll down her cheeks it trailed the blood along with it like a river along her porcelain skin.
He didn't notice when his mother walked away nor when she returned with a damp cloth. She quickly began to wipe the blood from his hands. As she worked, Rolf's head slowly rolled to the side and his gaze fixed on the spot on the floor. There was no sign of Anton. It was like a human grenade detonated at the epicenter of the room. There, in the center, was where the largest pieces were, most no bigger than a strawberry along with a single unharmed eyeball. Rolf could feel his heart quicken in his chest, causing him to start gasping for air while his gaze darted about the room. Everything was red and it flooded his vision, causing his stomach to tighten and knot. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as Rolf fell backwards, stiff like a board. It seemed as though a lifetime passed as he fell.
His unconscious body slammed onto the ground, shaking his entire frame, which startled him awake. Rolf sat up abruptly in his bed, his shirtless torso covered in a cold sweat as his chest heaved from his heavy breaths. He raised his hands to rub his face, before brushing his damp locks back from his face. He hadn't been able to get a single night's sleep since the incident. It plagued his mind constantly. Not because he murdered or killed... That was nothing new to him, being a veiði-maðr killing was part of the job. The frightening part was the truth. The hidden truth that had been stirring within him his entire life.
Rolf threw his blankets off of him before standing up and heading to the door. Halfway across his room, he stopped mid-step when he finally glanced up. His room was already a mess and half destroyed, only getting worse with each nightmare. When he felt a cool breeze on his back, he looked toward the window seeing the broken glass on the ground beneath it. He sighed, turning his back to the window and went to exit his room. As he grabbed the doorknob, his bedroom door fell from the hinges, toppling forward out into the hallway with a loud slam.
Before he could pick it up and try to make up an excuse, his mother was there and out of breath. "Rolf!?" She sighed out of relief seeing that he was fine. For a long quiet moment, she stood there taking in the sight of the door on the ground, her disheveled son and his expression. "Did you have another nightmare?" she asked as she stepped toward him, extending her hand to try and brush back his long hair.
Rolf turned his head away from her reach. He bent over and picked up the door, then leaned it against the wall in the hall. "Just underestimated my own strength," he lied, not making eye contact.
"Rolf..." she said quietly, taking hold of his arm before he could walk away. "Ignoring this won't make it go away. You need help controlling this... Nearly half of the windows and mirrors shattered. Sooner or later our lies will become transparent."
He glanced back over his shoulder at his mother. Rolf's eyes were clouded in darkness from the weight of the truth and his lack of sleep. "And who would help me? The völva would rather kill me on sight than help me. And if I did find one that would help... Gustav wouldn't be far behind with a cruel death for the both of us." His gaze fell to the ground, as he slipped his arm from his mother's grasp. "I'm a dead man either way. If you were smart you'd leave Geiranger before I get you killed too," he concluded as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Rolf spent nearly an hour standing under the steaming hot shower trying to melt away the stress. All the while as he showered, groomed his facial hair and dressed he couldn't fight the overwhelming thoughts and memories that consumed him. He didn't miss Anton, if anything he was happy to see the man dead. But Rolf was not a liar. He was always an honest and loyal man... Everything he grew up believing had been turned on its head as he tried to get a grasp on his new reality. He felt like a zombie, moving through the motions but void of emotions, thoughts or feelings. He was a dead man and the longer he kept up the ruse, the more painful his death would be.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he buttoned up his dress shirt and tucked it into his pants. He tried to steady his breathing as he put the tie around his neck. When he looked up to watch his reflection as he tried to tie it, he sighed out of frustration seeing the mirror was shattered. Rolf closed his eyes as his hands grasped the edges of the porcelain sink, trying to calm himself down as he felt the emotions and powers stirring inside him.
"Rolf?" His mother's soft voice spoke sheepishly as she cracked the bathroom door and peaked her head inside.
With his attention sidetracked, Rolf's little bit of control quickly dissipated. The magic surged out from his hands like a wave and the porcelain sink cracked beneath his hands. His eyes widened as he withdrew his hands, staring down at his empty palms with fear in his eyes.
His mother was there in a blink, taking his hands in hers. "Hey? Hey?" she said calmly.
Rolf tried to pull his hands from her grasp, but she held tight to them. Tears filled his eyes as the true and utter fear overwhelmed him. "No, mamma. I don't want to hurt you."
She raised her right hand to gently cup Rolf's cheek and wipe away a tear. Her smile was warm and comforting... and stubborn. As she took the ends of his necktie and began to tie it for him, she spoke quietly but honestly. "You'd never hurt me. I know that in my heart... And I will not leave you, no matter how much you push me away." Her hands tightened the tie and then smoothed it down against his shirt. "I won't let you carry this burden alone, my love."
"I can't do this..."
His mother wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug. "You don't have to pretend to be sad... And you don't have to say anything. I will protect you." She lightly kissed him on the cheek. "I promise."
Luckily for Rolf, he didn't have to pretend to feel something he didn't for the late Anton. He looked miserable. It was evident all over his face that he hadn't slept in days and even in conversation he looked like he was miles away. Rolf was a ghost... A shell, that nodded his head and smiled when it was expected of him. Others would see it as grieving and even though that wasn't the truth, it was believable. Lying was always easier when some amount of the emotions behind it were true. They might be for a different reason but it all manifests in the same way.
When Rolf and his mother arrived at the funeral home, it was still empty aside from the mortician. While his mother went over to double check the plans for the funeral, Rolf beelined for the coffin that sat on the alter at the far end of the room. One half of it was propped open, but there was no corpse because... there was nothing left to bury. Instead, a picture of Anton was propped up inside. He could barely look at the portrait, feeling as though the eyess were staring back at him like he was waiting to tell all of Rolf's secrets. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his mother's gentle hand on his shoulder. "He doesn't deserve a coffin... or a memorial," he whispered while staring at the picture.
"Hush now," his mother scolded under her breath before turning him to face her. Her hands adjusted his suit and attempted to smooth some of the wrinkles as she spoke. "Be careful what you say outside of the house, even around me. Just shake their hands and thank them for their condolences... It'll be over soon."
Rolf nodded his head and moved to stand beside his mother on the alter next to the coffin. He cupped his hands before him, while she hooked her hand in the bend of his arm as they waited for the veiði-maðr to arrive.
When his eyes opened, the room was painted in a rorschach of red. The color faded from everything leaving the world a stark black and white with the glaring crimson daunting him. His fists clenched as they tried to stop the trembling that slowly worked its way up his arms. The high pitch screech of white noise blared in his ears as his mother ran to him. Her hands grasped his shoulders, trying to shake the shock and fear out of him. Rolf didn't move, the air knocked from his chest as he stared blankely at her face. She was shouting inaudibly, not out of anger but fear as tears filled her eyes. When they began to roll down her cheeks it trailed the blood along with it like a river along her porcelain skin.
He didn't notice when his mother walked away nor when she returned with a damp cloth. She quickly began to wipe the blood from his hands. As she worked, Rolf's head slowly rolled to the side and his gaze fixed on the spot on the floor. There was no sign of Anton. It was like a human grenade detonated at the epicenter of the room. There, in the center, was where the largest pieces were, most no bigger than a strawberry along with a single unharmed eyeball. Rolf could feel his heart quicken in his chest, causing him to start gasping for air while his gaze darted about the room. Everything was red and it flooded his vision, causing his stomach to tighten and knot. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as Rolf fell backwards, stiff like a board. It seemed as though a lifetime passed as he fell.
His unconscious body slammed onto the ground, shaking his entire frame, which startled him awake. Rolf sat up abruptly in his bed, his shirtless torso covered in a cold sweat as his chest heaved from his heavy breaths. He raised his hands to rub his face, before brushing his damp locks back from his face. He hadn't been able to get a single night's sleep since the incident. It plagued his mind constantly. Not because he murdered or killed... That was nothing new to him, being a veiði-maðr killing was part of the job. The frightening part was the truth. The hidden truth that had been stirring within him his entire life.
Rolf threw his blankets off of him before standing up and heading to the door. Halfway across his room, he stopped mid-step when he finally glanced up. His room was already a mess and half destroyed, only getting worse with each nightmare. When he felt a cool breeze on his back, he looked toward the window seeing the broken glass on the ground beneath it. He sighed, turning his back to the window and went to exit his room. As he grabbed the doorknob, his bedroom door fell from the hinges, toppling forward out into the hallway with a loud slam.
Before he could pick it up and try to make up an excuse, his mother was there and out of breath. "Rolf!?" She sighed out of relief seeing that he was fine. For a long quiet moment, she stood there taking in the sight of the door on the ground, her disheveled son and his expression. "Did you have another nightmare?" she asked as she stepped toward him, extending her hand to try and brush back his long hair.
Rolf turned his head away from her reach. He bent over and picked up the door, then leaned it against the wall in the hall. "Just underestimated my own strength," he lied, not making eye contact.
"Rolf..." she said quietly, taking hold of his arm before he could walk away. "Ignoring this won't make it go away. You need help controlling this... Nearly half of the windows and mirrors shattered. Sooner or later our lies will become transparent."
He glanced back over his shoulder at his mother. Rolf's eyes were clouded in darkness from the weight of the truth and his lack of sleep. "And who would help me? The völva would rather kill me on sight than help me. And if I did find one that would help... Gustav wouldn't be far behind with a cruel death for the both of us." His gaze fell to the ground, as he slipped his arm from his mother's grasp. "I'm a dead man either way. If you were smart you'd leave Geiranger before I get you killed too," he concluded as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Rolf spent nearly an hour standing under the steaming hot shower trying to melt away the stress. All the while as he showered, groomed his facial hair and dressed he couldn't fight the overwhelming thoughts and memories that consumed him. He didn't miss Anton, if anything he was happy to see the man dead. But Rolf was not a liar. He was always an honest and loyal man... Everything he grew up believing had been turned on its head as he tried to get a grasp on his new reality. He felt like a zombie, moving through the motions but void of emotions, thoughts or feelings. He was a dead man and the longer he kept up the ruse, the more painful his death would be.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he buttoned up his dress shirt and tucked it into his pants. He tried to steady his breathing as he put the tie around his neck. When he looked up to watch his reflection as he tried to tie it, he sighed out of frustration seeing the mirror was shattered. Rolf closed his eyes as his hands grasped the edges of the porcelain sink, trying to calm himself down as he felt the emotions and powers stirring inside him.
"Rolf?" His mother's soft voice spoke sheepishly as she cracked the bathroom door and peaked her head inside.
With his attention sidetracked, Rolf's little bit of control quickly dissipated. The magic surged out from his hands like a wave and the porcelain sink cracked beneath his hands. His eyes widened as he withdrew his hands, staring down at his empty palms with fear in his eyes.
His mother was there in a blink, taking his hands in hers. "Hey? Hey?" she said calmly.
Rolf tried to pull his hands from her grasp, but she held tight to them. Tears filled his eyes as the true and utter fear overwhelmed him. "No, mamma. I don't want to hurt you."
She raised her right hand to gently cup Rolf's cheek and wipe away a tear. Her smile was warm and comforting... and stubborn. As she took the ends of his necktie and began to tie it for him, she spoke quietly but honestly. "You'd never hurt me. I know that in my heart... And I will not leave you, no matter how much you push me away." Her hands tightened the tie and then smoothed it down against his shirt. "I won't let you carry this burden alone, my love."
"I can't do this..."
His mother wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug. "You don't have to pretend to be sad... And you don't have to say anything. I will protect you." She lightly kissed him on the cheek. "I promise."
Luckily for Rolf, he didn't have to pretend to feel something he didn't for the late Anton. He looked miserable. It was evident all over his face that he hadn't slept in days and even in conversation he looked like he was miles away. Rolf was a ghost... A shell, that nodded his head and smiled when it was expected of him. Others would see it as grieving and even though that wasn't the truth, it was believable. Lying was always easier when some amount of the emotions behind it were true. They might be for a different reason but it all manifests in the same way.
When Rolf and his mother arrived at the funeral home, it was still empty aside from the mortician. While his mother went over to double check the plans for the funeral, Rolf beelined for the coffin that sat on the alter at the far end of the room. One half of it was propped open, but there was no corpse because... there was nothing left to bury. Instead, a picture of Anton was propped up inside. He could barely look at the portrait, feeling as though the eyess were staring back at him like he was waiting to tell all of Rolf's secrets. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his mother's gentle hand on his shoulder. "He doesn't deserve a coffin... or a memorial," he whispered while staring at the picture.
"Hush now," his mother scolded under her breath before turning him to face her. Her hands adjusted his suit and attempted to smooth some of the wrinkles as she spoke. "Be careful what you say outside of the house, even around me. Just shake their hands and thank them for their condolences... It'll be over soon."
Rolf nodded his head and moved to stand beside his mother on the alter next to the coffin. He cupped his hands before him, while she hooked her hand in the bend of his arm as they waited for the veiði-maðr to arrive.
tove blakely
völvax|xoutfitx|x#9D89A8
völvax|xoutfitx|x#9D89A8
Tove had been at the family's shop since the early morning like she did on most days. She took it upon herself to try and run it while Leif went off and did whatever he did most days. Depending on the day of the week, the shop was usually pretty slow... Unless there were tourists in town who always seemed to think it was an occult store. You know, all for show. They could think whatever they wanted. Tove didn't care if they accidentally cursed themselves. It wasn't her problem once she had their money. After all, there was a very strict no return policy. So, if the stupid Americans want to buy a book of spells and fuck around with ouija boards, then by all means. Maybe they would take some veiði-maðr along with them.
Most days a hunter would wonder into the shop "incognito" posing as a tourist, as if she didn't know any better. They never fouled her, but Tove played the game. She was good at that. After all everyone whispered that she was a witch, and that was intentional. It's the secretive people who arouse suspicion with the hunters. But people like herself who scream witch... Usually are seen as purveyors of the occult. She wasn't scared of them. And if one of the hunters that "sneakily" found their way into her shop tried some funny business with her? Well, Tove had more than a few hex bags ready for them to place a nice curse on the idiot. So, she wasn't worried.
It had been an exceedingly quiet day in Geiranger that particular day, and she knew why. It was the hunter's funeral. It seemed as though the entire village was holding their breath. Not a week back a völva snuck into a house of a veiði-maðr and decimated the man. Not that he didn't deserve it. But, it was unheard of... A witch being the hunter, seeking out the prey and killing them where they slept. Tove was cold but not that cold. She had no idea which völva had done the deed, and asking around wouldn't find any answer either. Part of her, when she heard the news, thought it might have been Leif. She asked him about it and he denied it. And one thing Leif would never do to her is lie. But the prospect of who it really was plagued her mind for quite some time.
Since the shop was empty, Tove took the time to do her own research. She walked around the shop grabbing book after book until she had a stack in her arms that nearly reached her chin. After setting them down on the table at the center of the shop, she then gather candles, herbs and other ingredients that she might need. She then sat herself down and began to go through the books page by page, searching for a way to uncover the mystery völva. Tove had always been well versed in spells and enchantments, but a location spell or something of revelation isn't in her tool belt. As far as Geiranger went, there never really was much of a need to try and divulge the identity of someone. With such a small village, whispers spread quickly and through those whispers a culprit could be found quickly. A week with no answer is unusual in a village like this.
After Tove finished skimming through the first book, she paused. Although it was highly unlikely a hunter would come waltzing into her shop on the day of a funeral, she still felt the need to be prepared. After all, she was sitting out in the open with enough evidence to prove her guilty. Yes, it was an occult store. But selling it was one thing, sitting down and practicing it was death worthy. She had noticed that whenever a hunter died, it seemed that for an entire day the veiði-maðr shut down. They didn't seem the type to spend much time on mourning, instead taking an entire day to grieve, celebrate the hunter's life and move on. Tove would bet that grief was a weakness in their eyes and weakness was not. So, better to allow for a single day to get it out instead of removing half of their numbers due to bottling their emotions.
Whatever it was... Tove didn't understand those uptight fuckers. She'd like to see one of them stumble in here on their 'day of grieving.' With a mortar and pestle she grinded some particular ingredients together, preparing a simple but effective concoction. It took her a couple years to prefect it, but at a young age she loved using it on Leif for a little prank every so often. The powdery substance was lavendar in color and shimmered in the light. If someone unwelcome came in, a handful blown in their face would knock them out for a solid hour at least. Now feeling a bit more prepared, Tove kicked off her boots and crossed her legs underneath her. She dug out her glasses and got to reading, determined to figure out who this völva was.
Most days a hunter would wonder into the shop "incognito" posing as a tourist, as if she didn't know any better. They never fouled her, but Tove played the game. She was good at that. After all everyone whispered that she was a witch, and that was intentional. It's the secretive people who arouse suspicion with the hunters. But people like herself who scream witch... Usually are seen as purveyors of the occult. She wasn't scared of them. And if one of the hunters that "sneakily" found their way into her shop tried some funny business with her? Well, Tove had more than a few hex bags ready for them to place a nice curse on the idiot. So, she wasn't worried.
It had been an exceedingly quiet day in Geiranger that particular day, and she knew why. It was the hunter's funeral. It seemed as though the entire village was holding their breath. Not a week back a völva snuck into a house of a veiði-maðr and decimated the man. Not that he didn't deserve it. But, it was unheard of... A witch being the hunter, seeking out the prey and killing them where they slept. Tove was cold but not that cold. She had no idea which völva had done the deed, and asking around wouldn't find any answer either. Part of her, when she heard the news, thought it might have been Leif. She asked him about it and he denied it. And one thing Leif would never do to her is lie. But the prospect of who it really was plagued her mind for quite some time.
Since the shop was empty, Tove took the time to do her own research. She walked around the shop grabbing book after book until she had a stack in her arms that nearly reached her chin. After setting them down on the table at the center of the shop, she then gather candles, herbs and other ingredients that she might need. She then sat herself down and began to go through the books page by page, searching for a way to uncover the mystery völva. Tove had always been well versed in spells and enchantments, but a location spell or something of revelation isn't in her tool belt. As far as Geiranger went, there never really was much of a need to try and divulge the identity of someone. With such a small village, whispers spread quickly and through those whispers a culprit could be found quickly. A week with no answer is unusual in a village like this.
After Tove finished skimming through the first book, she paused. Although it was highly unlikely a hunter would come waltzing into her shop on the day of a funeral, she still felt the need to be prepared. After all, she was sitting out in the open with enough evidence to prove her guilty. Yes, it was an occult store. But selling it was one thing, sitting down and practicing it was death worthy. She had noticed that whenever a hunter died, it seemed that for an entire day the veiði-maðr shut down. They didn't seem the type to spend much time on mourning, instead taking an entire day to grieve, celebrate the hunter's life and move on. Tove would bet that grief was a weakness in their eyes and weakness was not. So, better to allow for a single day to get it out instead of removing half of their numbers due to bottling their emotions.
Whatever it was... Tove didn't understand those uptight fuckers. She'd like to see one of them stumble in here on their 'day of grieving.' With a mortar and pestle she grinded some particular ingredients together, preparing a simple but effective concoction. It took her a couple years to prefect it, but at a young age she loved using it on Leif for a little prank every so often. The powdery substance was lavendar in color and shimmered in the light. If someone unwelcome came in, a handful blown in their face would knock them out for a solid hour at least. Now feeling a bit more prepared, Tove kicked off her boots and crossed her legs underneath her. She dug out her glasses and got to reading, determined to figure out who this völva was.
gustav landvik
veiði-maðrx|xoutfitx|x#9B937E
veiði-maðrx|xoutfitx|x#9B937E
Gustav remained in bed when he woke up, reluctant to face the day. Instead he rolled over, draping his arm over Anneka. He gently pulled the blonde closer to him, nuzzling his face into the curve of the back of her neck. After another 5 minutes of lying there, he groaned and sat up. He brought his hands to his face rubbing the sleep and weariness from them. He gently reached over and brushed her blonde hair from her shoulder and leaned down to kiss the soft skin. "We need to get up. The funeral is today." He sighed, followed by a yawn as he pulled the covers off of him and swung his legs off the bed. Gustav waited there for a moment, rubbing his neck as he stretched.
It had been such a long time since they're last funeral. At least three months, which is a long time for the veiði-maðr. No one ever liked funerals, after all who would. Burying someone you were close to is hard, but putting them to rest is necessary. The veiði-maðr are only allotted a 24 hour grieving period to clear their system of the pain and then move on. It was a weakness none of them could afford to hold onto. That meant a day of mourning, crying and condolences, then drinking and celebrating their life. This time was different. Anton was a pivotal member of the veiði-maðr and closest friend to Gustav's own father. Not only that, he was the father of their best and most skilled tracker, Rolf. Gustave worried how this would affect him. No one compared to his skill, and terminating veiði-maðr was never the best option at a sign of weakness. It only weakened their own ranks in the process.
After another yawn, Gustav pushed off his bent knees and stood up. He shuffled his way to the bathroom and into the shower. He didn't waste much time cleaning up in case Anneka needed it more than he did. Once finished, he walked around the apartment with a towel around his waist, going to start up a pot of coffee. As it brewed, Gustav leaned back against the counter running through the facts about Anton's murder. He was itching to get out there in Geiranger and hunt down the piece of shit völva that killed one of their own. For centuries they stayed in hiding, avoiding being caught by the veiði-maðr. But now, one of them has grown a pair. They sought out Anton and his family, and turned him into wall paint. Rolf and Eva were lucky not to be causalities in the attack. If they were also home, then who knows the level of destruction the witch could have caused with more people present
Gustav groaned, trying not to dwell on it as he made two cups of coffee. He then walked his way back to the bedroom and sat down beside Anneka. "Here you go." He handed her one of the cups of coffee that he made the way she likes it. After drinking most of his own cup, he got up and proceeded to get dressed. Once he was ready, he left the bedroom to give Anneka plenty of room to get ready and took a seat out in the living room. Sprawled out along the coffee table was dozens of pictures of the incident. He sighed, leaning back in the couch as he flipped through the images for hundredth time trying to see what he might have missed. But nothing. The person was thorough... And the only thing that was for certain was that the killer was a völva.
Once Anneka was ready, he followed her out of the apartment. Gustav then offered her his arm as they walked to the funeral home. Of course, the two of them were the first to arrive aside from Eva and Rolf. After all, it was Gustav's duty to be there first and also be the last to leave. He was the leader, he had to be respectful and supportive to prove himself worthy of his title. He held the door open, allowing Anneka to go in first and followed behind her. Once inside, he made his way over to Eva, giving his best attempt at a compassionate smile. "I am so sorry for your loss Mrs. Nordskov. Anton was a great man and hunter. He will truly be missed." Gustav gently held her shoulders as he gave her a kiss upon the cheek. "If there is ever anything you need. Please do not hesitate to contact myself or Anneka."
Gustav then moved over to Rolf, offering him his right hand. Once they shook, he then brought the dark haired male for a one armed hug. "We will find out who did this. They will suffer more than any völva ever has before in Geiranger," he whispered only low enough for the other male to hear. "I promise you that." As he stepped back, he patted Rolf's arm and gave a sympathetic smile. "Stay strong."
"Thanks man," was all that Rolf could say, attempting his more sincere and thankful smile.
It had been such a long time since they're last funeral. At least three months, which is a long time for the veiði-maðr. No one ever liked funerals, after all who would. Burying someone you were close to is hard, but putting them to rest is necessary. The veiði-maðr are only allotted a 24 hour grieving period to clear their system of the pain and then move on. It was a weakness none of them could afford to hold onto. That meant a day of mourning, crying and condolences, then drinking and celebrating their life. This time was different. Anton was a pivotal member of the veiði-maðr and closest friend to Gustav's own father. Not only that, he was the father of their best and most skilled tracker, Rolf. Gustave worried how this would affect him. No one compared to his skill, and terminating veiði-maðr was never the best option at a sign of weakness. It only weakened their own ranks in the process.
After another yawn, Gustav pushed off his bent knees and stood up. He shuffled his way to the bathroom and into the shower. He didn't waste much time cleaning up in case Anneka needed it more than he did. Once finished, he walked around the apartment with a towel around his waist, going to start up a pot of coffee. As it brewed, Gustav leaned back against the counter running through the facts about Anton's murder. He was itching to get out there in Geiranger and hunt down the piece of shit völva that killed one of their own. For centuries they stayed in hiding, avoiding being caught by the veiði-maðr. But now, one of them has grown a pair. They sought out Anton and his family, and turned him into wall paint. Rolf and Eva were lucky not to be causalities in the attack. If they were also home, then who knows the level of destruction the witch could have caused with more people present
Gustav groaned, trying not to dwell on it as he made two cups of coffee. He then walked his way back to the bedroom and sat down beside Anneka. "Here you go." He handed her one of the cups of coffee that he made the way she likes it. After drinking most of his own cup, he got up and proceeded to get dressed. Once he was ready, he left the bedroom to give Anneka plenty of room to get ready and took a seat out in the living room. Sprawled out along the coffee table was dozens of pictures of the incident. He sighed, leaning back in the couch as he flipped through the images for hundredth time trying to see what he might have missed. But nothing. The person was thorough... And the only thing that was for certain was that the killer was a völva.
Once Anneka was ready, he followed her out of the apartment. Gustav then offered her his arm as they walked to the funeral home. Of course, the two of them were the first to arrive aside from Eva and Rolf. After all, it was Gustav's duty to be there first and also be the last to leave. He was the leader, he had to be respectful and supportive to prove himself worthy of his title. He held the door open, allowing Anneka to go in first and followed behind her. Once inside, he made his way over to Eva, giving his best attempt at a compassionate smile. "I am so sorry for your loss Mrs. Nordskov. Anton was a great man and hunter. He will truly be missed." Gustav gently held her shoulders as he gave her a kiss upon the cheek. "If there is ever anything you need. Please do not hesitate to contact myself or Anneka."
Gustav then moved over to Rolf, offering him his right hand. Once they shook, he then brought the dark haired male for a one armed hug. "We will find out who did this. They will suffer more than any völva ever has before in Geiranger," he whispered only low enough for the other male to hear. "I promise you that." As he stepped back, he patted Rolf's arm and gave a sympathetic smile. "Stay strong."
"Thanks man," was all that Rolf could say, attempting his more sincere and thankful smile.