| Here and everywhere (Narrative) |
[01 Mar 2008|03:16pm] |
She too had felt the foreign touch descending on the land and people - with the first blow and first cry of pain, a part of her had splintered away from Idun towards her people. The healer had no way of knowing how severe the situation was until she arrived.
"EIR!" he shouted out to the goddess at the top of his lungs as he ran, a shout of desperate necessity, "I NEED YOU!" There wasn't time. Wasn't time to explain. "HELP THESE PEOPLE!!"
Tyr's call was not entirely necessary though the Healer of Lyfia was ardently grateful. She may have yet to speak to Tyr since her return but it was nice in it's own way that he still remembered her.
By the time her people had come, she was already in the field in her many guises - Healer and Valkyrie. To many on that day, they would have sworn seeing many identical visions of a lady clad in white, some overlooking the fallen, closing the eyes of the dead; others drifting among the wounded and coaxing the frightened. Though classified as a trauma-induced delusion, many would continue to speak of the lady in white - of how in locations where she had been seen would be sent aid shortly after despite the carnage of traffic. Even when there were no aid in sight, the lady in white had been known to spend time with the fearful and hurt till moments before the aid workers appear through the rubble.
Amidst the battlefield, Eir knew her place behind the frontlines - confident and more competent than she had ever been among the others at Fernsalir. At the corner of it all, a single figure stood - watching all that was happening - seemingly unaware of her surroundings but entirely encompassing the situation in her own way.
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| Chances Are (Narrative) |
[01 Mar 2008|07:17pm] |
Prometheus had been here before, too many times to count. Always in a different capacity. When you looked around the hall of the king the first thing you noticed was how little it changed. Over the centuries every deity made concessions to modern times. A bit of art, a nice sculpture or a painting. Not so with Zeus. There were too many things about the king that were inflexible, even if Zeus himself didn't realize it. Too many things that only served to heighten his sense of arrogance, his sense of purpose and belonging in a temple that never would have been his if not for an inexcusable murder and its horrendous prosecution. No one remembered the Titan Wars with fondness, but Zeus came as close as a god could. After all, it had brought him to power. Signaled the rise of his family. Why whouldn't he look back on it with some fondness? Only that was not the way to look at war, or at the results of war. Life was a cherished commodity to be protected because it was the only commodity that truly mattered, not something to be taken simply because an assault had occurred.
( There were laws. )
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