Jörmungandr

You're choking on how much you have to try

You have tried. you have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders and accepted more responsibilities than you have ever wanted, even intended to gain. it isn't crushing - you are strong enough to hold it - but you are choking. you don't know what to do with it. you don't know where it goes, how to move this weight everyone knows you can hold onto, and do you even want to get rid of it? Never. You would not give this to - force this on - anyone else. but you /can't/. but you are choking on it. your body will hold it up even when you lose all the air in your lungs, and your footing, and your courage. it does not mind choking you. it seems almost designed to do so. if you weren't wrung out you wouldn't be doing this thing properly.

Tagged by: @kingoftheravens​ 

Upon lifting her helmet’s shield, Vasilija fixed Jörmungandr with an unamused stare. For a moment all she could do was blink at him, the faintest quirk to her brow as if she didn’t understand the problem. “So?” The question did not beg for an answer. The outstretched hand still holding the spare modular helmet fell to her side and the quirked brow lowered. “Your father’s ridden behind me before.”

And Loki was huge. But he also didn’t cling to her like a terrified child throughout the ride like Keir did (he was tall, too). With an exhale of breath, Vasilija waved her free hand dismissively and hitched a leg up and over her bike to settle comfortably in the seat. There was enough space behind her for the serpent should he wish to ride there, otherwise there was space in the saddle bags. The siren spoke firmly just before dropping the shield of her helmet and hiding her gaze, “Do whatever you want.”

Her rationality was welcome in comparison to his fretful thoughts. Excitement, uncertainty, hope, fear; so different from the melancholy that was the sea. Choices that were actually his to make. He'd voiced a seemingly more obvious concern, not realizing at first where his insecurity stemmed – the curse.

A hand opening and closing as he fretted, Jörmungandr looked back up to her. "I may not be able to remain in this form as we get closer," he said before letting out a soft sigh, shaking out his hand he realized he'd been fidgeting. "It's probably safer if I am already shifted, in case the curse tries to take hold." That sounded potentially dangerous at any sort of speed. With a nod, almost to himself, he offered a small smile, "Thank you, again, Vasilija."

Vasilija pursed her lips, drawing back enough to rest her weight on an arm propped back behind her. Gods–as they were considered by some–alluded her. Partly because she had little interest in beings that tried to raise themselves above mankind and partly because they were alien to her. She could pick apart a human in seconds, could understand their motives and their morals, their transgressions, what made them happy and what made them turn on others. This was far beyond her reckoning. Though if Loki was anything to go by then perhaps they were not so different from humans at all.

But that wasn’t the point, was it? She wasn’t here to weigh in on the ins and outs of “gods” and she wouldn’t want to anyhow. They were discussing Hel and how to reach her. The feisty daughter of Loki, groomed to be her mother’s replacement when the time came. Vasilija had listened well enough on that front. People were on interest to her and a daughter of her beloved friend was no exception.

“If what you and your father say about your sister is true–” the strong will, the resiliency, the creativity, the clear headedness. “–then I believe it is she who will find us.”

The thought had struck her suddenly, pulled from the recesses of a mind that enjoyed puzzles. Her gaze was glazed over as her thoughts went reaching, but with the words spoken she returned to the present and regarded the little serpent carefully. “She’s the only one with free will. The only one who was not bound to a form or in chains. She has the resourcefulness, doesn’t she? Bide her time, gather her strength, build trust, find gateways, and then when the moment is right she travels here.”

Looking up from the papers, he blinked at the shared thought - one that had never occurred to him, either. Even if Hel had been banished to where ever it was she was, she wasn't confined as he had been and Fen still was. She had always been the one good at the talking side of politics by far - making alliances, learning everything she could, pushing her way here, all made perfect sense. As young as they all had been at the time, Hel's tenacity shone even then.

He nodded at the passing question, gaze slowly lowering to the grass as his thoughts ran rampant. Was there some way he could help guide her here? His fingers tapped lightly on the paper on his lap. Should he stop focusing his efforts on her? Could he?

The tapping stopped, his shoulders slumping.  "Fen would never forgive me if I focused on him first." Never had it needed to be said between them - Hel came first. Much as Fen had often dragged him into the tomfoolery of being young boys, the only mischief Hel got into was of her own making. Which was plenty, in her own way. They'd watched over her without either of their parents even needing to say so; there was no need. That he'd failed at protecting her from Odinn was his biggest regret, no matter his own age at the time.

“That’s how blood works, yeah.” A tease, punctuated be a crooked grin uncannily similar to his grandfather’s. “There’s two of us, y’know. You’re an uncle times two. Bit of a surprise, I’m sure. Kind of hard to let your family know about your existence when you don’t even know where they are.“

“Loki has spoken of some of these stories. Often in a very rambling, angry tone. The one about the goat really gets him going, in case you want to see him lose his head,” she offered, something of a smile curling one corner of her mouth. She had gathered enough to understand the penned myths were not to be wholly trusted though she herself had never read them and had no inclination to ever do so. All she knew came from the people around her: Loki primarily, Keir secondarily, and now Jör. Keir’s knowledge, in particular, was significantly deeper than Vasilija had ever guessed. He would have been more useful now in this scenario than herself, but the siren had her own unique talents she could pull from if necessary.

Vasilija accepted his compiled notes, a brow arched at the familiar but unreadable choice of language. Regardless of her inability to decipher them, she noted that they were well kept enough to suggest this was more than a simple subject to spend his time on in the hopes of locating something of interest that might help Loki.

“Unfortunately, it seems the harsher ones hold considerable truth.” It was unspoken, left to hover in the air between them, but she meant the tales of the children. All of them. Their fates, their sufferings. She handed back his notes and breathed out a quiet exhale of breath. “Your father has said something similar, though. That the Æsir visited here often in the past. Presented themselves almost as gods and never corrected the belief. Makes you wonder why they stopped coming.”

Oh so many of the tales left him rolling his eyes - a few he could even imagine Thor or one of his brothers telling, a grandiose stretch of the truth. The small smile in return to hers fading at the thought of the prophecy as written in the lore. Would he kill who had once been his closest friend outside of his family? He hoped to never have to find out.

He chewed lightly on his bottom lip as he listened and nodded. "Someone died, I think. Doubt it was anyone actually mentioned in the stories, though. Too much after what happened to my family is too convoluted since Papa wasn't even there to be a part." Taking back his notes, he flipped a few pages back to where his primary notes on his sister were carefully organized.

“Because I have experience captaining them and it’s the easiest method to travel by sea,” she stated, turning to give him a look, her brow quirked. Certainly a part of her knew what it was he was really asking but her desire to answer questions not voiced aloud was low. Extremely low. So she picked the plainer route for the time being. It wasn’t so simple for her to travel underwater anymore, not that she wanted to do such a thing anyhow.

Her bike was parked on the roadside and it was to here that she led the other. Sweeping her hair up, she slid a black modular helmet over her head and handed over a spare she had hanging on a saddlebag.

Between the look and the straightforward response, he decided it best not to press for the time being. Surely they would have all the time in the world once reunited with his father. Once that excitement was past, he could quell his curiosity about this fellow former sea dweller. Though another flurry of questions filled his mind as she handed him the helmet.

This is all I can think about when thinking of Jori riding behind Vasilija on the motorcycle xDDD

“He is as clueless as you are, little serpent,” she offered, though it was little solace in the face of the real obstacle at hand. Hel’s location was known, that she knew, and the only thing preventing Loki from going to her was the simple fact that he had no means to get there. Not yet, anyhow. Fenrir’s whereabouts, on the other hand, had been a frustrating mystery for as long as Vasilija had known Loki. Apart from narrowing their search down to select locations, the birds had gotten no closer to locating the eldest child. Odin had hidden him well.

Unfortunately, Vasilija’s own usefulness had been spent. She had been a crucial tool in locating Jor and bringing him to his father, but with that task completed she was no more helpful than the pen in Loki’s hand. She wasn’t bitter for this fact–Vasilija had proven herself an important ally time and time again and her locating at least one of his children sufficed for her as a worthy accomplishment–however, she was frustrated that she could not provide much more. Her knowledge was finite and it comprised only of the world she lived in now. Loki’s two remaining missing children were on entirely different planets. Jor, at least, had been here.

“May I help?” She asked, her disposition no less level than it had been despite what thoughts roiled in her head. Vasilija took a seat beside Jor, inclining her head just enough to try and catch the words written in the book the serpent grasped. Perhaps she could be of some aid, if only small, in whatever it was her little serpent was attempting.

Ever since Jörmungandr had figured out the loophole in his curse long ago, from time to time he had taken to wandering among the humans, particularly those who had deified the Æsir for some reason beyond him. Though it had been later in those years, still a wide range of stories flitted around the campfires; common themes coming back to him as he read them recently. He'd spent some time looking around the Internet, of all things, before deciding it was too much a hassle and returning to trusted books. Still, all the searching made for several pages of notes, which he slipped from near the front of the book before offering it to her. He doubted the neat runes would be of any use to her anyway.

"Of course," he replied happily; not that he even desired an excuse to spend time with her. Even their time together spent in complete silence was something he cherished - simply being around someone who understood part of what he had endured more than any other, and understanding some part of her in turn.