𝖇𝖗𝖚𝖓𝖓𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖊 (brynhildr) wrote in riftlogs, @ 2018-03-04 00:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! narrative, marvel: valkyrie |
WHO: Valkyrie
WHAT: Arrival
WHEN: March 4th, 2018
WHERE: In the middle of the tundra (#6 on Map)
WARNINGS: None.
RATING | STATUS: Low | Narrative - Complete
The ship was loud and packed, Brunnhilde had a difficult time finding a moment of piece among the chaos but any time she even thought about how annoying everyone was, she felt a pang of guilt. They'd lost their home and although she'd lost hers long before, she couldn't blame them for simply existing. Even if it was very loudly in every possible corner of the ship.
It made introspection difficult, it made trying to come to terms with what had happened to her and what had happened to all of them difficult. She'd been doing well staying away from alcohol, but her frustrations were reaching a fever pitch and it wasn't more than week after they had set out for Midgard that she'd fallen back into drinking heavily. It made facing the ship easier at least. Brunnhilde didn't want to forget anymore but people don't change over night. They change in small steps over years.
Alcohol was a vice she couldn't shrug off as easily as she could the years of apathy. It was a crutch and Brunnhilde relied on it heavily. Her capacity for shame had disappeared years ago, but there was something akin to it anew in her chest but even that couldn't stop her. Training helped, it took her mind off the noise at least and reminded her of the thrill of battle. She had Thor and Banner to thank for that but training didn't make the nights any easier. It didn't make sleep come any easier and it definitely didn't keep the nightmares at bay.
Valkyrie armour had at one time been a great source of pride for Brunnhilde. She'd been proud to wear it and even prouder to have earned it. Now it felt like a lie, everything it had represented had been a lie and wearing it felt like an even bigger one. She wasn't that person anymore but somewhere deep down it was comforting. The reminder of the family she lost hurt but the pain was more like the press of a bruise and less like the throbbing cut of an open wound.
Although it wasn't needed, Brunnhilde still wore the armour when she trained because it made her feel more powerful. It connected her to a part of herself she'd tried to drown in alcohol. She was still wearing it when she grabbed three jugs of alcohol from one of the storage compartments she'd discovered on the lower decks. If she was ashamed of the action, it's not enough to stop her because she downs a bottle before making her way back up to her quarters to drink alone. By the time Brunnhilde made it to her room, she was already almost down to one bottle and half way to drunk.
When she stumbled into her room it took her a moment to comprehend what she's seeing, instead of the dark and messy room she called home, there was an icy tundra with sun glinting off it blindingly. Brunnhilde looked back to find the door she'd gone through disappearing behind her and a moment later she was entirely alone, one half empty bottle of liquor in one hand, a full one in the other and a sword at her side. If she were honest with herself, this wasn't even the weirdest thing that'd ever happened to her.
Brunnhilde sighed heavily before downing the remains of her drink and finally taking in her surroundings. Not far off sat an ugly bag she snatched up and rummaged through quickly before stuffing her last bottle of alcohol inside and throwing it over her shoulder. The snow and wind were cold, but barely detectable through her armour.
"All right." she muttered to herself before trudging off to find somewhere with a little more cover.