Helreginn

She nodded along, feeling a sense of commonality in his sentiment. It made sense in her mind. They were beings of the cosmos, why should they not find comfort being nearer to the skies?

But maybe Hel didn't understand it either. Maybe it was okay to take her at her word, and drop the term contract from his mind. And just simply take their relationship for what it looked like on the surface -- a friendship. One-sided, imbalanced, irrational. But just two people who had found that they gravitated toward one another.

"Fine."

He tried to smile and wasn't sure that he did a very good job of it.

A shiver went down her spine as she envisioned hands holding their marienette strings, swinging them around until they are all tangled up in each other's lives and misadventures. Shamefully, she picked it up just as he finally was able to set it down.

Fortunately Hel kept her woes closer to the vest..

It leaves him feeling somewhat unarmed.

His next words earn a little snort. Good, she thinks, Þórr wouldn't know what to do with boring. She blinks then, sardonism traded for sincerity. She reaches up but not out, pointing in his direction with her fingers as her voice softens, "Fret not. None take me as his kin anymore." She leans closer to whisperingly add, "And I think you're doing fine so far."

"That depends on the name."

He had traveled farther than most, particularly most of his social class. He'd often brought home tales that others found preposterous. He knew names that few would recognize.

And yet he was almost certain that even he wouldn't recognize the place that Hel named.

His offer of a smaller out felt almost a relief. The goddess sighed softly and still looking down, rummaged in her pocket for a wooden rectangle that shouldn't have fit inside. She held it in her open palm. If he looked (and she held it so that he would be able) he would see the bevel of three compasses set one above and to the right of the other. Their needle's all pointed in different directions but only one set of cardinal directions circled them. At the base, where a thumb should rest was a symbol close to but not quite like the Vegvísir (A stave intended to see people safely through storms); Instead of eight points it had nine. And three of the points, headed by runes, were burned (opposed to carved) darker than the other six.

The shift was subtle. A half step to the left before she turned the center-most circle of glass until she found north. Hel lifted only her eyes from the compass(es) to look at Dustfinger, "East."

"No, my lord prince," a younger kitchen maid said as she set out the food. "Do you require anything to eat?"

And painfully, Hel only felt the sting without the context for the sinking dread. A sense that she didn't belong, that she should flee, without the social awareness to tell those doubts to quiet..

She toyed with her finger nails, forearms pinned nervously against her ribs as she waited for her food. When her plate was presented, she gave a meek smile, a small nod and a very quiet, "Thank you," as she took it from the kitchen island and turned, waiting for her brother to lead them away.

As quickly as the anxieties rose, they began to subside, seeing her brother's smiling expression. She may not belong in the palace, but doubt could never convince her she didn't belong with her brothers.

Celeste’s eyes follow the arcs of her hands as they move. Or rather, the glimmer of magic at her fingertips. In her thousand years of life, Celeste had seen many things she once thought impossible but Hel so often trumps it all.

Eyes close, head lowers, smile remains. Hel isn't sure if that was something good or bad, but somehow intrinsically it warms something within her chest. Many sorrows has the soul so unique it stands alone in misunderstanding... and many joys the strange find in their uniqueness.

Whatever questions he had regarding his sister and her domain had been answered with what only a child might understand. His parents never offered more than the very necessary facts, and Narfi accepted it without objection. It never mattered truly; Hel is his sister, however she came to be and however she lives her life. That is all he ever needed to know.

“Hel,” Narfi sighs, annoyed with his own foolishness. He approaches with cautious steps, knowing now how much his jests have stressed his sister. He had only wished for the truth, and truth he had received. A hollow, painful truth of his sister’s existence. Hel had not only felt the grief of his death, she had endured his pain. The horrible, violent death he had succumbed to, she had felt as well. Still.

He's not supposed to know. Never supposed to learn.

Her gaze stays down-turned, jaw tensed. She can't bring herself to fully voice the words, a sullen whisper ripped from the throat of something older than Hel herself, "I am the shadowed shroud that conceals and I am the meshen cloth that filters and strains life waters clear."

Finally, she relents, wiping her mouth clear of the flowery swath that coated each word passing her lips. She spoke slow. She spoke plain. "Yes. I feel it. All of it. For others it is.. usual. Like breathing or photosynthesis. I take it in and let out something changed. For those that I love? Emotion amplifies. Salts the wound." She swallows. The act was painful enough, the memory and acknowledgement of what it was, agony renewed.

"The dead return to me like gentle breath. But time and choosing stolen, it is ice water forced down my throat until I've no choice but to inhale."

Her jaw trembles as teary eyes meet her brother's, "Your end was not.." Her brows wrinkle and she blinks fast, trying to make sense of it in her head, "It wasn't.." A curled finger rests atop her lower lip and goosebumps rise across her shoulders. She begins to sway slightly back and forth, self soothing. She can't look at him. Amber eyes trained to the side as she guiltily whispers, "I am more giant than god, brother."

She sighs and the fog grows heavy around and between them. It scares her to even think the words she cannot will herself to speak;

I am more giant than god..

It gleamed on his hand. He grinned at her, high on the explosion of power that rushed through him.

His smile always brought her calm and delight but this new one.. It stole the breath from her lungs. A sigh of worry her awareness lagged in understanding.

He laughed under her gaze, unable to quite take it seriously when he knew who it was under the illusion of his face. There was something inherently unnerving, even for him, watching his own face look back at him.

"Careful, I must then be. I would not want that ire to turn towards me when you see that my desires are granted more readily.." Despite the boasting lilt of his voice, she meant it with a naive sincerity. It had never made sense, no reason she could track, but in her long life most things turned out in her favour.

She hoped he meant that she would make him a new garment and not that he would measure her skill against that of his queen. She hoped she'd have that chance. Morning birds began to sing, a sickening alarm, cautioning them to hurry before a dawn escape turned into mid-morning capture.

“I’ve got it.” He promises, but makes a show of struggling with the weight to ease her embarrassment ( if she feels any at all ), then hefts the bucket up with a grunt. “Onward!”

His one word was all the permission she needed to begin her thundering ascent. The little girl that runs with wolves needed no shoes or direction. Only the certainty of her flat feet on grass and the memory of a well-worn path. If he lost sight of her for a moment, the sound of giggling running stomps would surely ease his mind.

At the water's edge, she stopped short and turned back to him, "You coming?!" She yelled, hands cupped at her mouth's sides, impatience apparent.

Hel shakes her head head vigorously and carelessly plops herself, whole body's weight, down in the grass, cross legged. It takes her a minute to get stubby fingers between the line and the rod to get a good grip on the hook but from there the next part was morbidly easy. In her right hand she held the hook and in her left, she plucked a large worm. With her tongue stuck between tooth and gum (her grown-up canine yet to grow in after the milk tooth fell out last month) she focused intently, easing the worm close to the curved metal. Close enough that when she uses magic she didn't yet understand, the worm impales itself on the hook with grotesque ease.

change wording / pronouns as needed

“This is my costume.”

“Do you want to dance?”

“Are you friends with the host?”

“They just brought out the snacks!”

“I forgot the gift at home, I’m sorry.”

“Did you get a glass of champagne?”

“Has anybody seen the birthday boy?”

“This is supposed to be a closed event.”

“You hiding out here from the noise, too?”

“Someone stole all the finger sandwiches…”

“I’m pretty sure someone spiked the punch.”

“Did you try the snacks? They’re pretty good.”

“Why isn’t anyone dancing? What happened?”

“Why do they even make sandwiches this small?”

“Don’t bother with the drinks, they’re all pretty bad.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but this is kind of… boring.”

“I don’t think we’ve met. Were you on the guest list?”

“I’d ask if you want to dance, but I have two left feet.”

“I… wasn’t aware we were expected to bring anything.”

“Don’t say a word… I thought this was a costume party.”

“I feel like the vibe in here really shifted. What did I miss?”

“This is way fancier than I’m used to. I feel underdressed.”

“The music’s way too loud in there, I can’t hear myself think.”

“Hey, would you like to, maybe… meet up, after this is over?”

“I don’t normally come out to parties. This is kinda new for me.”

“It’s getting late… maybe we should think about heading home.”

“A nametag isn’t a full costume. You should’ve put more effort in.”

“Too many people in there… it’s a lot nicer, and quieter, out here.”

“There’s too many balloons, I’m been tripping over them all night.”

“To be honest, I don’t even know anyone here. I just wanted to party.”

“Okay, we might need to keep it down. We just got a noise complaint.”

“Someone’s passed out on the couch, so I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“Yeah, an argument just broke out and it’s really bringing down the mood.”

“You look really nice tonight. I don’t think I’ve seen you dressed up before.”