|Taeja Kim ☠ Jörmungandr (jormungandr) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2011-12-12 06:48:00
|Entry tags:||jormungandr, urdr|
give all you are, do not make haste
Who: Urðr & Jörmungandr.
What: A long awaited godly chill session.
When: 31 October, evening. After this.
Notes: Completed log, hella backdated. dealwithit.gif
It had been a busy day for the serpent Jörmungandr. For the first time in a year he found himself in control of himself, returned to the flesh he remembered so well. The boy Adam still pushed through from time to time, but as the day progressed he had given way, as well he should, to his older soul. He had met other gods, and other beings not of this world. Blood had been spilled before the sun had risen. In all, it had been a most productive day. And there was yet one more task he knew had to be done.
In silence he slithered from his father’s chambers, satisfied with the time they had spent catching up. The visit, while pleasant, had nonetheless left him with a keen sense of melancholy. He longed to see his siblings as well, to share a space with them once again. Hel in particular had left a sizable void in her absence, one he had been unable to fill. But there was one whose presence would calm him, one he sought above all others whatever his mood. To Urðr he went, his leafy scales rasping on the carpet, his massive body covering the distance with effortless speed.
For her part, Urðr had spent the day rather peacefully. After the incident in the wee hours with the Aztec undead, Alexandria had been quite exhausted. Once Adam had gone, it had been quite easy to push through. Alexandria seemed to have come to accept her, or perhaps trust her, and Urðr took the opportunity to explore the tangible world as she hadn’t in years.
She could feel the strangeness Alexandria experienced, exploring the world through her eyes; the sense of never being truly surprised, but still finding moments of long-forgotten pleasure in small places. She’d swum in the strange, warm sea that was an ocean; she’d pressed her long, slender feet in the sand; she’d tasted ice cream, which was truly a marvel. By the time the moment for Jörmungandr to appear had arrived, she’d used all these strange human amenities -- she’d showered and dressed, her own clothes mercifully appearing, swathing her taller, more slender frame comfortably. The door was already cracked when he arrived, and she rose to greet him as he slithered through the door.
“Hello, dear heart,” she said with a slight but genuinely pleased smile, her voice more resonant, more final than Alexandria’s. She slipped past him to close the door, then went to him, kneeling in front of him.
“I’ve missed you.”
And I you.
Jörmungandr pushed himself up from the floor, his heavy head swaying like a cobra’s dance as he drew his pointed face level with hers. His tongue flicked out, scenting the room around her, the energy she carried with and around her. He liked the skin she wore, this Alexandria, though the vessel hung differently upon her spirit now. There was a new confidence in her, a kind of ethereal fullness, a bearing he knew as his Urðr and no other. His eyes met hers, green and glinting, studying their depths.
Are you well? he asked, his head tilting to one side. Adam’s memories welled up, roiling just beneath the surface, reminding the serpent that his night had not been the only one marked with otherworldly strangeness. What happened earlier?
“I am,” she said, reaching out with long, delicate fingers to stroke the leafy scales on his crown. The arm with which she reached for him was bandaged, though she paid it little mind. “We were attacked. They were creatures who had been mortal. They belong in the realm of the dead. They are not of our kind, but one of their gods is close. Not the one they answer to, though.”
She tilted her own head.
“Shall we sit together? There is much to discuss, but our time is short, and I would prefer us to be comfortable.” She rose, then, waiting for him to join her in walking toward the bedroom. The seating Alexandria had available in the main part of her dwelling would not accommodate them, but the bed she used would, and easily.
“You have seen your father, yes?” she asked. She asked such questions despite the knowing because it was different -- to hear things spoken, to hear him tell them -- from the knowing she possessed. She sat in the center of the bed, folding her legs, waiting for him there.
Dutifully he followed her, his muscled body eating up the ground between them. He joined her in the bedroom, rendered more curious than concerned by Adam’s distant, subtle stirrings as they crossed the threshold. He saw no need to comment on the unfamiliar sensation, as Urðr would already know and understand, and it had no bearing whatsoever on their own time together. Jörmungandr surprised himself with the strength of his disinclination to allow the boy to encroach on this rare and long looked for visit, but he saw no reason to act otherwise.
He slunk up to the bed, hard scales nuzzling her gently as he circled her lithe frame. I did, he answered blithely, as if the question had come only seconds before. Gingerly he slipped beneath her legs, lifting her up from the bed, curling around her like a living throne. His head shifted beneath her hand, sliding up her arm, coming to rest on the finely wrought bone of her shoulder. He seems well, if unfamiliar with some aspects of his vessel’s life. His mouth parted in a seeming smile. It is... amusing. And unusual. But he will learn quickly, I am sure.
The Norn smiled herself, raising her hand to his head and stroking his leafy scales as she tipped her head to touch his. For a moment, she closed her eyes, indulging in these long-missed moments of affection, curling comfortably amid his coils. “That much is certain. Loki Laufeyson has ever been a clever one.” Her smile took on an amused cast for a moment before her expression returned to its usual, even state, though there was an air of serenity in it that manifested only in rare moments. Being back with her Jörmungandr was a good thing. As she stroked him thoughtfully she said,
“Alexandria met Mani’s vessel last night. I shan’t have the chance to see him personally.” It was a small detail, but worth mentioning. “A door was opened. There was a death, and now great anger. There will be more blood. There are forces whose lust for power will push for a second end.”
Beginnings in ends, Jörmungandr said. It was a comfort of a sort to know that things had been set into motion, that even now players had begun to take the stage. It was a kind of solace he knew few others would understand, but one whose details he was keen to know. But as he had learned long ago - in no small part through his dearest of companions - all would reveal itself in time. Is that what brought us here? His forked tongue darted out, flicking just shy of her skin, as if he might somehow taste her shifts in mood. And what of Mani? Is that door for him as well?
“Just so, dear heart,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper, as it was wont to be. “Beginnings in ends.”
Her great snake knew the nature of things; knew of endings and beginnings and how inextricable they were from each other. “We have been drawn here for a purpose, and there are those who mean us harm. It remains to be seen on what side each will fall, and too early to say. These are matters beyond just our brethren and kin. They murdered a great goddess who made a world. They want more blood.”
For a moment, Urðr was silent. Those whose work was the weaving of Fate knew more than made sense. The vision the Norns shared expanded beyond the world that had been when they’d had their own bodies, when they’d watered Yggdrasil. It was now as it was then, except that then, their worlds had been so small, they hadn’t touched -- not truly. Seeing had been easy, plain. Now, they’d all been thrown together, the threads tangled; it was so much more exhausting, and she couldn’t be certain of where every skein lead. In truth, she feared to admit it, even to her dear Jör.
“The door is meant for all of us,” she finally said. “Its purpose is a dark one. Whether its purpose shall be fulfilled remains to be seen.”
Jörmungandr nodded. He remained yet unsure if she did not know, or if she simply chose not to answer; there were some things gods and mortals alike were not meant to know, things only the keepers of that wisdom should dare to look upon. She had her purview, and he his, and there were many points at which those two did not touch. More, to possess that knowledge would change nothing. Their ends were their ends, whether they came by this door or another. There was no fighting what would inevitably be. The dead goddess herself could speak to that truth. So he let his fear pass over him, through him, and fade into nothingness, focusing instead on kinder things.
It is good to hear your voice again, he said. Your Alexandria is good, but you are better. I do wish she would let you out more often. His head nuzzled against her shoulder, green eyes reflecting a smile as he did. You should speak with her about it.
She smiled back at him, amusement twinkling in her fathomless eyes as she raised long, slender fingers to his head, stroking his leafy scales. “We shall see each other more often, I promise, my beauty,” she told him softly. “Our poor Alexandria barely believes in her own god, much less us. But I have spoken with her -- she is learning, I think. She resists.” She shifted in his coils, settling closer to him. “I have missed you terribly. You should speak with your Adam.” She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.
“How has it been, then, walking as a man?” She smiled. “Have you found his smallness tiresome, or do you find yourself with a fondness for legs?”
It is interesting, he said. He tried to think back on what had been, on thoughts and sensations he had experienced only through Adam’s flesh. It was limiting, to be sure; for years there had been no discernible shift in the boy’s size or shape, concealing both their souls in a single, recognizable form. It had not yet been to either of their particular detriment, but with a killer of gods on the prowl, Jörmungandr would have felt more at his ease were he able to look, to act, as something other than he was. A cat had served him well before; something else might have done so now, but it was not his to know. His head canted to one side, lifting beneath her fingers. He can do things I will not. He feels things I do not. And often enough, Jörmungandr noted, did not act upon either. His was a passive nature, and in this way they were suited, one to another. But there were times when even the great serpent saw no need for the boy’s reluctance to act; the mortal world was fleeting, and did not carry with it the dire, often eternal consequences of a mistake. It was one thing, Jörmungandr thought, to defy Fate, but another, sadder thing to not attempt to grasp the better, kinder part of it on one’s own. Though he would never admit it unless openly asked, his opinion in this might have been somewhat shaped by the ultimate result of Adam’s desires: more time with Urðr, whether in this form or another.
I will speak with him, he said. I might help him, if he would allow it.
“Do,” she said quietly, stroking his scales, looking into his eyes. A slight, perhaps wan, smile curved her lips as she looked at him. Urðr was not a goddess who typically felt the sting of loneliness. When they’d inhabited their own forms, there had always been Skuld and Verðandi with her, and of course, her dearest friend, always coiled in the roots of Yggdrasil, her Jörmungandr. The moments when she’d been alone had not been common, but had come with the comfort of always knowing she could return to those she loved most. Now, it was so different. Skuld and Verðandi yet slept, and Alexandria seemed to work as hard as she could to keep herself and Adam apart. Urðr was unaccustomed to the sense of frustration she felt but carefully contained, though she saw no reason not to share with her Jör.
“I can sense you when they spend time together,” she said quietly, settling further into him, enjoying the way he shifted with her movement, and yet kept her upright. “I... it is difficult not to be able to determine their actions. Her actions.”
He nodded, far too familiar with the sensation for his liking. So too he knew the tension in her posture, and longed to alleviate it. His coils shifted, sliding slow across the small of her back; he felt the ridges of her spine against his scales, firm and finely wrought. Her physical presence, so long denied him, was an unspeakable comfort, calming him as he worked to ease her own burdens.
It is a nuisance, he allowed. More than being trapped in that flesh. I would rather they welcome us, that the four of us might all enjoy what time we have together. A kind of sadness passed over him, a sense of futility he recognized, then pushed away. They have so little time, he said, and they make so little of it. We must help them understand.
“I agree,” she told him, nuzzling him as his body massaged the ache out of hers. So many days they had spent under Yggdrasil just so, curled up together as they spoke, or didn’t. It felt something like home to be so comfortably held by him once more; it eased the burden of knowing some of what was to come, and the anxiety and unfamiliarity of not knowing other parts. “I think they’re moving closer.”
She sighed softly as she nestled deeper into Jör’s coils, her body sliding against his hard scales and his sinewy strength. “How is it, then, dealing with Thor? Alexandria has been so naive about his vessel. Even in this life, he resists the inevitable.” She sighed, shaking her head.
Jörmungandr chuckled, a motion which manifested as little more than a shifting of his coils, a widening of his seemingly smiling mouth. There were times when meeting with Thor the serpent found himself more concerned for Alexandria than for himself or his own vessel; these were hard lessons to learn, hard things to face, these streaks of ugliness that lived in the creatures one loved. But one’s nature was rarely changed, and things would always fall out as they must. Jörmungandr knew that it was theirs to kill one another, whether that be while housed in these vessels or not. He suspected Alexandria would not face such news well, when it had been so difficult for her to see the mere hint of the spiteful hatred that spread its shadow on his soul. But Thor was not altogether bad, and his vessel was less so; this, too, Jörmungandr understood, though he recognized as well how troubling a revelation this could be to some humans.
Thor is Thor, he said. He is a brute, but he is as he was made, as are we all. Adam seems to understand, too well and not well enough. His tongue flicked out as he thought, tasting the air around her, the aura so distinctly hers. He accepts Thor and his skin as they are, but does not recognize he himself has fangs. I fear the day when his patience is finally tried.
It was impossible not to smile at her great snake, at his innate understanding of what was and the clarity with which he saw it. His silent laugh vibrated through her and only made her smile for longer. She leaned into him, shifting her arms so that one was within the comforting circle of his coils and the other rested on top of him, her hand reaching the back of his head, where she stroked his scales thoughtfully.
“I must confess, I rather look forward to it.” The smile she gave him was very nearly mischievous. “He is patient and so reasonable -- a rare quality in mortals. I think perhaps you’ve influenced him a bit, dear heart.” She smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “But he doesn’t realize his own power, even now. I strongly suspect there are few things that could rouse it, and even defending himself is not one of them.”
Her legs slid along his coils as she exhaled softly. “Would that our time weren’t so limited,” she whispered to him. “Though we shall be seeing each other more often.”
She smiled slightly.
We have tonight, he said. His coils tightened around her, a brief hug tightly enveloping her. This visit was only sweetened by the knowledge that it would not be their last, knowledge that was now a certainty. They would each of them work on their vessels, helping them past the obstacles put before them by the limitations of human sight, of human understanding. Urðr and Jörmungandr were patient enough, but there was no need to languish in loneliness when their vessels only needed the most subtle of guidance. They will listen to us. I will come to him in dreams if need be, but this foolishness must stop. Again he laughed, shaking his head as he moved, shifting to rest his heavy head in her lap, nuzzling gently against her taut thigh. They are comforts to one another, and there is no reason they should give up that one solace. His head tipped, one shining eye reflecting her smile. Thank you, Urðr, he said. If not for you, this Tree would be a barren place.
A soft sigh spilled over her lips, her smile unfading as she stroked his scales. “Thank you, my sweet Jörmungandr. I am grateful that we can be together here.” Slender fingers traced the curve of a leafy scale. She smiled. “It will be strange to be together in human bodies, I think, once they’ve been convinced to cede control for a bit.” She grew bolder, her hand going in longer strokes, liking the feel of his skin against hers. There was time, then, to talk of many things, and talk they did, late into the night, twined together, warm and comfortable. It was as it had always been; whatever they faced, they would face together.