[completed/closed] Characters: Odr (vagranting) & Freyja (allmycharm) Date/Time: April 21st, night around eight PM Location: Restaurant chosen by Odr Rating: PG-13 Warnings: none. Summary: The wandering husband meets the wife that might kill him.
It was as predicted. Freyja was a bit late getting to the restaurant but had at least made it before eight-thirty. She'd taken a moment to freshen up in her car, changing her works shoes into the pair she likes to keep in her car for moments like this. A change of stockings also occurred and she dabbed on a bit of a perfume before exiting to meet him in the restaurant.
The Norse goddess knew that a public place was not entirely likely to keep her well-behaved. When Freyja wanted to do something, she did it and let the consequences fall. A part of her hoped that choosing such a place to keep her tame wasn't Odr's plan. Surely he knew her better than that.
And that in itself stung her. But the surge of misery was pushed back, replaced by a need to see him and a desperate hope that it didn't appear as desperate. Freyja knew that though she pushed to appear always in harmony and perfectly put together, she had issues and a number of flaws etched hard into her soul.
Walking in, she sought out Odr, curious to see if he had arrived before her late arrival. With her luck, maybe he wandered away and wouldn't show up for two years.
Stop that, Freyja.
One thing no one could say about Odr was that he lacked of patience. Considering he tended to spent half his time in the less known roads – streets, houses and alleys – of wherever he found himself in, a good healthy dose of patience kept things much calmer. Which was why he had appeared at eight, as agreed, the half-casual suit he preferred neatly pressed thanks to his secretary, his shoulder-length hair actually free of any dust from the construction sites and a small book underneath his arm.
Odr had, however, lost count of the times he had been given sad looks and empathizing pats on the back. Apparently, some of the guests appeared to think he had been stood up. Diplomatically, the former god agreed to himself that that was the least she could do to him. Poetic justice aside, there were many more ways to mess him up in person than to simply not show up. Though a little part of him did hope she wouldn’t do that.
Let us be honest, you wouldn’t like it either.
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with that train of thought, and gave his attention back to the table. It was hard not to be apprehensive. To wait for woman like Freyja for a man in his position was to wonder whether she would do the damage herself or find someone else to do it for her when he least expect it. And he did like that, the way she had to simmer and not let her emotions fade into nothing. It would take lifetimes until she stopped hating him, wouldn’t it?
The little sad – even nostalgic – turn of his lips turned pleasant when he saw her approaching. Odr raised a hand in greeting and stood up, education speaking louder, until she came closer.
Was it bad she both wanted to go throw herself at him (partly to pin him down with the other part not needing explanation) and wanted to grab a knife to fling it at his chest? It certainly didn't say 'stable' but both urges swelled the moment she found him, justifying that he deserved it all if not more.
Why couldn't he stay home? Why was it important to go and return as he had? Force her to tears and have to search for him? He had daughters, for the love of the gods. Some example he was (never mind the ones she had set).
When she reached him, she allowed herself a moment to take him, from his hair to his neat appearance. But without comment still, Freyja leaned upward and ghosted her mouth against his cheek in mild, almost absent-minded greeting. The hand that she placed on shoulder to support herself was less mild and more akin to a claw.
Mixed signals were fantastic. And in her German-accented English, she asked as she leaned back, "Were you waiting long?"
“Not enough to be vexing.” In his defense, the man took everything with the bland, calm smile of someone used to dealing with complicated situations. Odr touched the hand on his shoulder gently before freeing himself all together, straightening to his full height. Like a gentleman – which he did pride himself in being – he guided her very lightly to her chair, a hand barely ghosting over the small of her back before pulling the chair back. If anything, it was better not to worsen the situation.
When had he last done something like this? With his ex-wife maybe? Odr struggled to think for a moment before letting it go. Whenever it had been, it had been long enough to not matter. What he should focus on was not to blunder, as usual.
Returning to his original position, the former god called a waiter, fingers drumming soundlessly on the table as he waited.
“I trust whatever held you wasn’t troublesome?” It was a subject innocent enough. He hoped.
Even when seated, she could feel a tremor of anxiety and excitement. I need to do, not to talk or be picture-perfect calm. With anyone else, even Loki, she would have found control with ease, her haughtiness giving her that power. But her husband was not just anyone else.
Freyja's hands remained out of sight, in her lap for the time being, fingers twisted and clenched to the point her knuckles were white. She would find calm, she would, but time had to allow it first. For now, she would focus on what he said and what she wanted to say.
"It was work related. I told you I'm a doctor or have I not? You've been away a while so I can't recall." Red lips curved into a smile. "But you're here now. For how long?"
It was amazing how that subject always came up. Well, not amazing, Freyja surely managed to push it ever so gently to the table – with the subtleness of Thor himself which meant little to him. Perhaps he was just sensible to the subject; one that remained like an open wound, bleeding and festering between them. Odr stopped himself a more dangerous comment – ‘one summer’ – with difficulty. Not the moment to joke. Not really.
“I remember. When I told you what I worked in.” The waiter approached in silent, platitudes and a small smile ; giving them both the menus and stepping back. Odr wondered briefly if he was trained to avoid couples in similar situations. “Three weeks and five days in California,” he elaborated. “My boss seems to want to expand and I do need to earn my paycheck.”
His eyes traveled down the lines in front of him, reading with a little too much attention. “I believe I should stay for a while now. Which is rather pleasant. La Traviata is being performed in the Metropolitan Opera, it has been some time since I’ve seen it.” He spared her a small look over the menu before folding the cardboard. “Wine?”
Who had said his habit of switching subjects was annoying? Hm... Probably his mother. She likely didn’t know it was a defensive mechanism like any other.
"Oh yes, please," Freyja nearly purred out, fingernails trailing over the unopened menu before her. Food and wine wasn't a pressing matter, the waiter not even glanced at when he had arrived. "Go ahead and choose for me. Have that pleasure."
His habit would be managed. She would stay on topic, dig her heels into it until she was firmly anchored and had her answers. "Your boss is a lovely reason. I suppose I won't call him an excuse for now. And what is a 'while', sweet? Long enough to see La Traviata? A couple of weeks? A month? Maybe long enough to make me forget how angry you make me before you scurry off?"
The same hand that had been on her own menu reached out to clasp over one of his but she kept her nails out of the grip. "A weaker woman would just kill you and stuff you in her closet so you'd never leave her again. I pity the lack of creativity on that woman's part."
Clearly, Odr was a fool. Even though he knew she wouldn’t forgive; that it was perfectly clear she would see him in a ditch before allowing his mistakes to rest, he still searched for her. That was the part of him that he, himself, recognized as most illogical. The man kept a long moment of silent after she spoke, calm semblance as he observed her features. Think before saying, that was the kind of person he was. Which was a good thing. Blurting out ‘does that mean you miss me?’ would not be the best reaction to her inquiry.
“According to the emails I’ve been receiving, a month before another week in California. I think there are two days schedules for Washington but I’ve been thinking in letting my apprentice take my place. The poor girl has been wishing for more independence for ages now.” Information given in the same pleasant tone of voice, his free hand pressing against the table to contain the urge to cover hers. Or maybe take it away? Who knew.
Instead, he gestured the waiter and mentioned a single wine name, giving ample time for the man to understand he should leave. The rest of the conversation was clearly not his to meddle in.
“A stronger woman would have replaced me already. Which I assume you have done.” It wasn’t like he could complain about that or anything. Still.
She waited a heartbeat for the waiter to go. "I have, so many times over. But do you how many men would kill to be with me?" The pain her slim throat forced her hand off his so it could press against where she ached. "I am desirable enough for many men to be with me. To stay with me."
Pride was not the reason why she didn't begin to spill tears right there and then. For him, it was very possibly for her to break into tears in public. It was likely that him just being there before her held back a display that would not go unnoticed.
"But you, you've had your share of loves. Of those who have kept you warm at night." Freyja wasn't entirely sure if she could be jealous considering they had found one another more or less recently. It was more of a fact to be stated. "Do you still seek other women when you are away, Odr? Now that you know I exist?"
If one looked very carefully, his smile wouldn’t seem honest. With a little more attention, it would seem frankly lacking any time of amusement. Odr knew well many would have wished his place once. This was Freyja, after all, the Lady of the Valkyries, the goddess of love, beautiful beyond measure, etcetera, ad nauseam. He was a little known God and that was the way he preferred it. He had never enjoyed the quarrels his brethren would plan, the battles behind closed doors or on Midgard. Of all those men, he could claim to be loved by her. Still, how many of those men would feel suffocated between four walls? He supposed Rig might get his wanderlust a little. A little because the man surely turned back to his bridge soon enough.
He didn’t know what to say so he said nothing. Besides, that little ‘so many times over’ was a slightly harder pill to push down.
Odr coughed into a closed fist before entwining his fingers in front of him. “I was married, if that’s what you’re asking.” Which it sort of was, in an incredibly roundabout way. “It didn’t quite work out. Since then, nothing of notice. I find the ‘one woman in every harbor’ a tacky practice.” An eyebrow attempted to draw itself upwards against his will. Pleasant, be pleasant, polite and never try to ask overly much. That was mostly the way to get out there in one piece. Strange, why wasn’t he more worried over that? “Would it bother you otherwise?”
Oh. He had spoken his thoughts. That was intelligent.
A marriage that hadn't lasted. A surge of pity went out to his wife even as satisfaction coiled in his belly. Mixed feelings were likely. She felt she had an ownership of him since they lacked the neat divorce of Skadi and Njord, though one had to decide if ownership was even the right word.
She would say it was but then she was feeling less than happy about everything. He was back and he would be gone. She would cry again even if he wasn't her legal husband and she was still married to a man who had deserted her years ago. But that was all fine because she was fucking her twin brother and that was surely a good move for a mortal woman.
Pity was unnecessary. She made her choices, the good and the bad. One day, she might start making better ones.
"Would it bother me?" she repeated, somehow not raising her voice at all. Very good, Freyja. "If you were fucking many or if you were still married?"
“Both? Any of them?” Did it even matter? The urge to leave was long gone. He liked to travel and wander but that didn’t mean he was running away from anything. That was what she couldn’t understand in him, wasn’t it? Odr was there to clean up a matter that had remained open for countless centuries, ever since he had walked too far and ended up with too many scales for his taste.
The waiter came back and, intelligently enough, served the both of them with the rich red wine before scrambling to the kitchen. Odr decided there and then he deserved a nice tip at the end of that disaster. Bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted the beverage before returning it to its initial place. Just something to push the awkward moment forward, the taste didn’t even matter.
Might as well get this part over and done with. Even if the result would be her either slapping him or leaving as quickly as she had come. “What else do you want to ask of me, Freyja?” He questioned softly, hands back in their original position. What else did she want from him? Just how could he ask for forgiveness so her words would be more like he remembered, less bite, less wish to cut him with each barbed comment? Sadly, Odr was a selfish man in that aspect.
"Yes." On some level, it would always bother her and her simple answer was enough. To get into it more, well. One had to decide if it was worth it or if the time was right. And how much damage could occur from getting those details.
The presence of the waiter flew over her head and how she reasoned why wine was suddenly on the table was a mystery. But she picked up the glass without really giving it much of a glass and brought it to her lips. There was no moment to appreciate, no careful sip to see if it would suit it. Half the glass was gone before she set it down.
"Maybe I want to ask you how it felt to be a father who could leave his daughters. Perhaps I want to know why you even came back if you only planned on leaving again." Her fingers stroked the stem of her wine glass. "But I want to know before all that what you intentions are now."
Yes. Hm, that could mean a lot of things and not all pleasant. Odr filled it up away for later consideration and allowed time to pass while contemplating her own question. It was hard to put in words what he felt. Like to explain someone’s nature, words would never be enough. One couldn’t say why it was like that. It just was and that was final. Freyja was passion personified, whether it was fury or love. He was simply a vagrant – not unattached but definitely unused to four walls and a permanent ceiling.
The man rested his lips against the glass and tasted without realizing what he was drinking. The glass was placed again on the table and arranged carefully, turned until it seemed perfectly aligned.
“I came back because I needed to come back. The whole reason why one is able to leave in the first place is because there is something, someone to return to. You can wander your whole life and it will feel meaningless without roots.” That felt right but felt empty. Odr rubbed his forehead and searched for more words. “It’s not you and it wasn’t the girls. I love you all. You are the… proof that I existed. That is why I return.” Summer, back and forth, giving space to Skadi’s touch before returning all over again. “But if I stayed all the time inside that palace, I wouldn’t be me. I would be half, incomplete.”
As he suspected, his words felt like ramblings and incoherent. Maybe it had been for the best. Freyja could use a man who was able to stay around. Unfortunately, he couldn’t.
“And my intentions? The same as I was a God. Build, walk, rebuild, return. Live instead of waiting for time to pass me by.”
The tears had finally stung her eyes upon hearing the words she most and least wanted to hear. He loved them, they meant something to him but she still circled back to his abandonment. Her thumb lifted to make quick, angry swipes beneath each eye before a single tear could strike the lovely tablecloth.
"So I gain you and lose you no matter what," she asked, her voice a bit huskier from the lump there. "I'll never have my husband, never be able to convince you to stay. I'll never have what I want but you will have what you want." A slow drag of oxygen was had before she continued, dropping to a lower volume.
"I should really kill you. You wouldn't leave me then. I would do it and make it seem perfect. I swear Heimdall might even help me. Skadi as well. They would both understand perfectly."
Those tears… it couldn’t be a greater proof of his mistakes. Odr didn’t pretend to ignore them; it would have been the greatest disrespect he could have granted her. Instead, he watched every single one and tried to breathe when his chest compressed in something which was almost a physical pain. Also, any urge to reach out for her hands got squashed by fingers tightly closed into fists.
“You can do so,” he confirmed calmly. “They will follow you much more quickly than I could change either of their minds.” But he wondered. How much satisfaction would she take of his dead body? As much as having him around, trapped and forbidden to leave. Would that be enough? Odr supposed the first would be easier for him. Ah, lovely. He was choosing the best out of two bad options. His pessimism had obviously hit an all-time low.
“Freyja, I know I haven’t given you any choice then. I should have spoken and explained the matter. I should have, even before we were joined.” It would have been the fair action to take. But he had been so enamored with this woman. Anything that could have driven her away, he hid deep bellow. He had even thought that it would have been enough to have that house to come back to, his wife and family. “What do you want?”
She knew they would. Skadi, no typical stepmother, was blessed with a chilling, brilliant mindset when it came to making people suffer. Heimdall was loyal, far from being a goody-goody and that made him perfect. They would come to her aid and aid her in covering her tracks. It would be all so easy. There was no reason to not do it.
Wasn't there?
"What I have always wanted. You," she retorted a bit too sharply, a bit too fast, hands balled up in her lap, not trusting them to remain on the table (not near anything she could slam into his neck). "The only thing - the only one I have ever wanted and couldn't have. And he was my own husband." A short laugh came followed by an unpleasant smile. "Dead or alive, that's all I want."
“So it is almost a matter of possession, isn’t it?” Odr knew he hadn’t done right by her. He knew he wasn’t perfect, he knew he did more mistakes than any god except Loki. And he was being selfish when speaking that (it was her anger speaking, he remembered himself belatedly, just that) but the idea of being forced to stay when he would have kept by willingly (with one or two trips everywhere) didn’t sit well.
The God breathed deeply, his apparently hunger fading into nothing.
“As I said, it’s your choice, Freyja. Dead, you’ll have your vengeance, I guess. Alive? If I’m alive, you better chain me because I can’t change. I’m an old dog. Otherwise, we’ll be kept in this cycle.” He’d leave, she’d hurt, she’d hate, he’d come back only to hurt her again. They were trapped. “Well,” he added in an afterthought. “This is what I call avoiding misunderstandings.”
She wished she could chain him, wished that it were possible but she feared little happiness would follow. To have to trap a man into staying was the most tasteless of victories and would be followed by pain to rival that of whenever he left her. If her girls arrived, what would they think of their desperate mother? How was that going to make anything better? Could anything?
"Do as you want. I will not restrain you." Even as she said that, her heart was screeching for solution and not defeat. And death. Death being the other option but she couldn't. Even as a goddess of death, she could not bear the idea that her Odr ceased to be because she couldn't keep him.
"I loved you then," she added hollowly, interest in wine and food lost, the same as him. "I love you now like a fool. But you were the only man who could make me one. It seems like that can't change for me."
Love you? As in present? A little of the surprise might have showed in his expression just before he squashed it beneath all the reasons why it shouldn’t be shown. How could he explain… maybe the thing was that he should stop explaining and get to actually do something. He reached out a hand over the table, turning palm upwards in invitation (very aware it could be taken as a target).
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Asking for trouble, he was. “I can’t do that. I don’t know if I can do it completely. But I could try? If that would be enough, I could try this time.”
Odr wasn’t Summer anymore. That wish to leave was still part of him but it wasn’t like he needed to disappear for a season. Still, it was a frail offer. It was likely not enough.
Prickling in her eyes were tears once more. Trying wasn't certainty and she firmly believed her heart would be broken again. She was possessive, she was selfish and she needed someone (him) to be with her. It was ego, it was love and it was killing her that he said try.
Yet her hand stretched to lay in his, sliding across it and feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. Her fingers ghosted against the inside of his wrist before circling around it. Like a handcuff. Like she was desperate.
"Your apologies are the worst," Freyja informed him, refusing to brush away her tears this time. "And if you find you can't stay by my side, that you must travel, what then? Will you apologies heal my heart?"
“Freyja, I have told you what my life is now. One week, two at most every other month, that’s almost sedentary.” Hell, it was sedentary as far as Odr was concerned. New York wasn’t like Asgard. Beautiful as the realm was, as the city where they had lived was, its marvels were known to him as the palm of his hand. Here, he saw new things every time he stepped outside, from his window, from the door of his car. Things were different. Being mortal was different. He accepted this part of hers, he thought slowly, chancing a glance at the hand in his, couldn’t she… Odr winced inwardly. Perhaps not being as selfish considering she had wandered through the lands searching for him would be a good idea.
Serious and with no trace of a smile, the God leaned forward, his free hand cleaning up her cheek slowly and gently, almost barely touching. It didn’t suit her and he was frankly tired of being their cause.
“Then you will come with me and rest your mind. You’ll call and I’ll drag you out to dinner instead. You’ll tell me I’m a jackass for my continuous actions. But you won’t hurt.”
It was perfectly fair, or so a logical person would say. But Freyja, consumed by memory and selfishness (possessiveness), wanted to rebel against the very reasonable arrangement, scream it wasn't enough because he shouldn't want to leave in the first place.
A moan of anguish was stifled when he touched her, her grip tightening about his wrist and she closed her eyes. She wanted him and she wanted to reject him, to hurt him. He had opened a chapter of her life which included promiscuity and things that normal relationships did not readily accept.
But, really, how normal were they at this point? "And what do you expect from me?"
“Maybe that you accept I can’t be exactly what you want, not completely. That I can fall short a couple of notches but that doesn’t change the fact that I wouldn’t turn back for a lot of people.” Odr’s mind briefly flashed to his mortal family, kind, cherishing people who he would visit, not live with. Not because he didn’t love them but just because. “That I’m not playing a role. If anything, you know I’m not a liar.”
What else did he expect? Asgard was far and he wouldn’t return. Their children were far too but there was her. If only… his hand lowered and rested on hers, a strangely pensive frown as he slid his fingers over her softer skin. Something to return to at times, someone who would yell at him or kiss his cheek, show him all the things that him, in his incredible obliviousness, ignored so easily. Wait for him, he guessed.
“Saved a spot next to you,” Odr spoke instead. “If it is possible, of course.”
At least there was that. The lack of a role, the honesty. It was something she would reflect on later when she felt far, far more calm and rational.
"And do you expect me to be faithful, Odr? To suddenly go from what you made me to a loving wife who wouldn't dream of adultery? Who would be content to forget how she handled her loneliness for thousands of years?" The tip of her finger was making patterns, then, over his wrist and down his forearm then back up again.
"And will you, husband of mine, find it in your heart to be faithful to me? Or have you grown used to other things aside from wandering?"
“You already told me you were involved with someone.” And those words were branded, frozen somewhere in the back of his mind. Sure, he had been married. Had been being the key word in the sentence. He couldn’t ask for faithfulness. Now that Odr thought about it, there was a huge amount of things he couldn’t ask from her. The results of a divine life craved with mistakes. “I’m not telling you to dump that person suddenly just because we met.” Though he would like to.
Her hand on his arm felt strangely nice. The lack of use of her nails also. He followed the motion with his eyes, hypnotized and relaxed for the moment. He almost missed the question she posed him. Or it actually made it easier to be replied to, without filter or caution.
“I didn’t do that back then. Why would I bother to do it now? I’m no teenager to need constant company.” There had been his wife, once upon a time. But she had been smarter – or less patient – than Freyja could claim to be. His first disappearance had been accepted, the second understood, the third, forth, fifth causes for too much discussions for what he thought to be acceptable. No, Odr didn’t want a rerun of that.
Red lips curving into an empty smile, she pulled her hands back, leaning away from him in her chair. "My husband hasn't seen me in years nor I him." She was married but there was no sense of being 'involved' at all. The man had deserted her, leaving her to cry and take solace in the arms of others.
Why she had not divorced him on the grounds of desertion was just foolishness on her part but that was another matter entirely right now. "He probably has no idea of the number of men I've fucked. He probably doesn't even care at this point."
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why men she loved continued to leave her but she didn't. She refused to make herself feel and be more vulnerable than she already was.
That sounded familiar. Though, in his defense, Odr couldn’t help but add, he had had a small issue considering being turned into a giant monster and stuck in the sea. He hadn’t just left because and with no wish to return. How hypocrite would it make him if he would share this fact should he ever meet the man? It was also right at the tip of his tongue to ask if she had done the same for comfort when he had disappeared. Again, hypocrite.
“Men are notoriously foolish, my dear,” Odr said instead, willingly pushing himself into that number and accepting the truth in his words. They always wanted something they didn’t have and disregarded that which they had conquered. And that was too much, honestly too much dwelling into his own mistakes. He was tired, almost physically, from the rubbing of wounds and issues he hadn’t focused on for the years to no end.
Placing his free hand on top of hers, he gave her what was almost a tired smile before looking around. “Do you still plan on eating or should we leave? Perhaps we could both use some fresh air.”
"They are," the once-goddess breathed in agreement, one of the few things she could agree with him upon anyway. "Men will never learn, no matter how hard you try to make them. And the ones that do are too rare and difficult to obtain."
Her answer to his inquiry would come first in a physical move, her rising from her seat. "Let's leave." She, too, was exhausted, felt she looked poorly at this point and didn't want to deal with the waiter checking up on them or giving them even menus. She wanted that fresh air and then wanted to go home and curl up in bed with her cats, her sweet little creatures that would bump their heads against her while she screamed and sobbed into her pillow over every man in her life, including those who weren't around.