Freya Mikaelson is Tired™ (frelsi) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-11-14 19:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, freya mikaelson, morrigan |
Who: Freya and Morrigan
What: Mistaken identity because of voice and meetings
When: 14 November 2017
Where: A witchy type store
Warnings: Low, references to manipulation and pregnancy
Status: Log | Complete
Given the fact that Freya really couldn’t deny the fact she was a witch, a powerful one at that thanks to accruing magic over long centuries in her dreams while her body here adjusted and she learned how to control it, the blonde woman had taken to checking out different stores in the area. Sometimes for books, other times for supplies. Orange County was no New Orleans with their shops but there were still places she was able to go to get things she needed.
Which was why Freya found herself in this particular shop. Like most of the shops of this nature, it wasn’t all that obvious from the outside what it was, with a sort of dusty feel to it. There were different aisles, some for books, some for stones, candles, athames and bolines, incense and censer, cingulum, smudge sticks and the like.
When she didn’t have new dreams, Freya often would have repeat dreams specifically dealing with learning magic and the tools and she was slowly gathering things she would need to put in her magic specific bookshelf. Still sometimes new dreams also reminded her to go and get things she would need.
After the latest dream where Dahlia had returned and she found out she was what her aunt had been using to channel her magic and the loss of her father in her dreams, something mundane like supply shopping seemed a great plan. (Not to mention it was just weird to see Evie as the mother of Klaus’ child, her niece.) Sighing softly, Freya walked down an empty aisle in search of candles.
While Morrigan had a very well-stocked greenhouse, she still needed to visit occult type shops for things she didn’t grow herself. She didn’t necessarily need any spellbooks, candles or incense to do her spells, but sometimes she liked burning incense or scented candles for something different.
Today, however, Morrigan was looking for some herbs. She’d had some periodic nausea recently and needed some specific herb to help with that. Morrigan wasn’t anti-modern medicine, but sometimes she just prefered drinking an herbal tea to taking some anti-nausea medication. Entering the shop, Morrigan didn’t pay much attention to any other customers, she wasn’t there for them, she had her own mission to accomplish.
“Hello, may I help you?” The woman behind the counter asked as Morrigan approached it.
“Yes, I am in need of some herbs.” Morrigan then rattled off what she needed and how much and waited patiently while the woman got it ready.
Freya had been holding a crystal when she heard the voice.
Dahlia.
Her breath caught and the familiar feelings of dread and fear started to pick up. No, it was impossible! Dahlia wasn’t here and why would she be in such a store like this? It wasn’t like she was on the network and dreaming and a witch. Unless she was and….
That was impossible though and it was just years of Dahlia related trauma here added to centuries of it from her dreams making her this irrational. Besides, if the woman was here and a witch she could just snap her neck to get away.
Still, she was pale and had a slight tremor in her hand as she placed the crystal down to go see if it was her aunt behind the voice. There was no way that this timing was a coincidence. To dream of Dahlia showing her face in the dreams and learning about how Dahlia was using her…. Of course she would show up now. Of course.
Morrigan glanced over some of the things on display around the counter area. She had very little use for much of it. And sometimes she even laughed a little at what witches tended to use for spell components, but Morrigan’s brand of magic was just different. All she needed were her hands to cast spells and her staff to help channel the magic at times. Her potions and poisons needed components, of course, but most of them could only be found in Thedas. Or at least they had until she’d received seeds from her world and grew them in her greenhouse.
A feather caught her attention and she picked it up. It was dark in color and she had to chuckle slightly. It reminded her of feathers Flemeth would wear on her clothing. Even Morrigan had a couple attached to her own so-called rags in her dreams.
“Here you are. Is there anything else that I may help you with?” The woman asked.
“No, thank you, that will be all today.” Morrigan even managed some small talk as she paid for her herbs. As she turned to leave, that’s when she noticed a blonde woman walking in her direction, seemingly pale. Normally Morrigan would not pay her any mind, but, well, she was more empathetic than she cared to let on. “Are you alright? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
From what Freya could tell, most of her magic was ancient rune magic as would be expected for a witch from Viking times. Still, ingredients were often needed as were items that could be used to channel magic. She had an added complication of course. In the dreams, a witch needed something to be bonded to, a foundation of sorts. Often it was a place to call home even when they weren’t there. The power of the elements. Freya didn’t have that because of Dahlia. Always on the go. Always in a new century.
Even here, she hadn’t set down roots in over a decade. However she had her siblings. But as she was still learning to control the power within her, it wasn’t quite the same.
And then the woman turned and god she sounded just like Dahlia. Tone. Inflection. But seeing the woman herself? It was clear she was not her aunt. (It admittedly was also odd to hear Dahlia’s voice sounding almost concerned about.)
“Yes, I… thought I heard someone I knew but it appears I was wrong.” In what world could a woman sound just like her aunt yet not be the woman? Oh right. The kind of world where you dreamt of an entirely different life and it was real and things crossed over from that life.
Morrigan had traveled to various places in the world, but never quite found one to call home. The place she’d grown up in in the countryside in England hadn’t felt like a home. Her relationship with her mother was adversarial at best. Against her mother’s wishes, she’d gone to university in London to get away from that. She’d also spent time in rural China studying ancient Chinese herbalism first-hand.
But here in Orange County, this was nearly a home to her. Even in the dreams Morrigan wasn’t one who put down roots. Of course most of the reason for that was she’d been on the run from her mother, desperate to protect her son from falling into Flemeth’s hands. She’d hidden well until she’d drank from the Well of Sorrows and was now at Flemeth’s beck and call thanks to being bound to the will of Mythal, an ancient elven goddess who apparently was Flemeth.
Needless to say, Morrigan had quite a feeling her dreams were nowhere near done yet. She feared them starting up again, wondering what her mother had planned for that world.
“Ah, understandable. Such things tend to happen with frightening frequency around here.” Orange County was quite an anomaly. Strange things happened here, and coincidences happened, but they seemed to be rather rare here.
Freya could only nod at the comment that it was understandable that she might think she had heard someone who wasn’t there. Was it understandable, was it really? Because Orange County weirdness or not, why did this woman speak so much like Dahlia that it made her blood run cold even as she was able to see this woman who was clearly not her aunt.
“Yes, this place is…. Unique.”
Because that was an understatement. Clearly this Dahlia-sound-alike was used to Orange County strangeness (and if she were honest, Freya was pretty certain she had seen the woman on the network), you didn’t make comments like that if you weren’t. But it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Perhaps with more time but Freya had only been back for a few months now and Dreams and strange happenings made readjusting a bit more difficult.
Just by how this woman had responded to her, Morrigan could tell she was one of the Dreamers. One did not speak about Orange County in such careful terms without being a Dreamer. As such, Morrigan had to give a light and short little chuckle.
“Indeed, unique is a good word to use for it. Are you new to the area?” Best to know how recent her arrival had been.
Morrigan was also forgetting manners, which was normal for her. She wasn’t the best people-person ever, though she’d lightened up in recent months. Probably a combination of Maia’s influence on her and the lack of Leliana and Alistair being here. The latter two being two people who got on her nerves quite often.
“Yes and no. I grew up in the area then left fourteen years ago. I only recently returned in August.” Such was the complicated mess of being a Mikaelson. True her brothers had been here longer, then Klaus and Finn also showed up. However, she’d missed it when all the strange things started happening. That was until she showed back up and now she was dealing with magic and learning how to control it.
Freya could be a people person when the situation called for it. It was necessary in her work, and even though she didn’t get out much, she could be personable. Part of that probably came from growing up with a father who was in congress and a mother who was a socialite. Manners and the like were taught from an early age. However given the shock of hearing Dahlia’s voice in this woman, manners had flown out the window.
“Ah, well, hopefully it is a welcome home for you? Not everyone finds joy in returning home.” Morrigan was one of those people. She absolutely despised her mother, feelings that had grown even stronger after her dreams. Flemeth was conniving and Morrigan no longer knew if her mother was her enemy or not.
Then there was that whole having drank from the Well of Sorrows and being bound to the will of Mythal. Who, as it just so happened, happened to be her mother. If Flemeth ever moved here to Orange County, Morrigan would seriously consider killing her before she started dreaming. Morrigan refused to be under her mother’s control, or anyone’s control for that matter.
One of Freya’s greatest concerns was Dahlia showing up in Orange County. It was why Morrigan’s voice had thrown her for such a loop. That fear welling up inside of her, especially given the latest dream. But what could be done about that? She was trying to find a way to kill the woman in the Dreams with the help of her siblings. Would that be the case here?
“Mostly.” There were her parents and the stress that came with them, “My siblings are here though, so for that I am happy to be back.”
If nothing else, at least she had them. Dream drama and all. It was certainly better than the constant isolation and loneliness she had to deal with in the dreams.
“That would be a good reason to be happy for returning.” Not that Morrigan knew. She probably wasn’t an only child, she may have half-siblings out in the world. She had simply been the ‘lucky’ one to be raised by her mother.
“At any rate, I should not keep you from what you came here for. Still, t’was a pleasure to have made your acquaintance,” Morrigan said with a little nod. That and she should probably get back home before she started feeling overly nauseous again.
Freya gave a small nod. Despite all the stress that came from the dreams, having to chase down Klaus the previous week after he had transitioned. But she would do anything for her siblings and so being able to be around them was a relief.
“Yes, likewise.” Mostly. Freya had a feeling that the voice thing would continue to throw her but it was what it was. With a polite smile, she gathered her own things, went to the register to pay before heading out. She needed either tea or alcohol. Either would be good really.