BEARING HOPE

為すべきこと

But then after a pause, he realizes.  “ Oh. So your delightful, ”  sarcasm drips off his words,  “ summoner can bring the likes of another me to your beloved Order, is that so? ”

Revolting. He had already been recoiling under the revelation that Reginn was alive, meeting her here suddenly, but to know there might be some version of him mindlessly obeying the commands of the ones who had dared to try and strike down his brother?

There are many stains he shall take on his hands, but the stains of that kind of betrayal is not one of them.

"No, that's not what I meant! It's just..." Reginn swallows. Now is not the time to be cowed by Ótr's harsh words. Even if it's unpleasant, she needs to steel herself to say the truth. "I thought Fáfnir killed you. That's why I thought you might have been summoned from another world."

A world where you're still alive. A world where you're both still alive.

She is not cruel enough to hope for either of them to be dragged away from such a world to soothe her own loneliness. Everyone had already suffered enough because of reckless summoning. She would not perpetuate that cycle, not when she had resolved to slowly but surely undo the harm that Eitri had done.

The phantom weight of Gramr in her hands feels heavy. She would make the same choice every time. For herself. For her people. For Niðavellir. That did not make it hurt any less.

affluence: lance +1

When she actually arrives at the construction site, however, the blueprint in her hand is useless. Where she expected scattered tools and miscellaneous building materials, the ground looks surprisingly clean. In fact, the only thing around seems to be a number of squishy looking spheres suspended over a pond.

"Oh, so kind of you to finally show up," the project manager says coldly upon her arrival. "As you can see, construction has already concluded at this point. We've been done for a while now, actually."

Reginn deflates, "O-oh."

The project manager smiles an empty smile that doesn't reach his eyes and claps a hand on Reginn's back.

"So that's why you wouldn't mind testing out the equipment, right? We've got another latecomer, so the two of you can test it together! It's the least you can do after showing up late, right? We're testing for stability, so all you need to do is make it to the other side."

This... feels more like a punishment than an earnest request, but he's correct that it's the least she can do to make up for being late.

Reginn turns to the other unfortunate soul and holds out a hand, "I'm Reginn! Let's do our best here to have fun while we help out!"

But he was being instructed to use horses. What would anybody even learn about the might and genius of Niðavellir from this then?! 

The battle is also a recent one. It's not one he can say he took part in, but it's one he knows a prominent name in. The name has him scowling as he enters the stables and continuing to do so as he searches for a suitable steed to borrow for the assignment.

He is interrupted from his gloomy thoughts however when someone else enters the stables. The doors open with great gusto, and beams of harsh sunlight hit him as if to burn him.

And when he sees who it is that brought it in, he understands why.

“ You...! ”  he spits out.  “ So you survived— ”

He had avoided searching for her, not wishing to invite what such a search might mean if it was conducted by him, but it looks as if he didn't need to. An emotion, just like the sun, burns him at the sight of her face, unmistakeable no matter what attire she dons herself in now.

It burns. It burns. It burns! But he has no name for it, refuses to give it one, and instead focuses on the name that had been vexing him since it had been found in the lines of his assignment.

“ —Reginn. ”

The battle was hers. And in searching to re-enact the past, the academy has invited the skeletons of that past back into his life.

Successfully deterred from causing a scandal, Reginn instead lets herself be led to the stables where they keep all manner of flesh and blood mounts. When she throws wide the door, she finds flesh and blood of a different kind. Sticking out like a needle in a haystack amongst all of the horses is a man who should be dead.

"Ó-Ótr?!"

Her appearance (her existence) casts a shadow over her brother, deepening the shadows on his face. When she was younger and still looked at him with starry eyes she hadn't noticed the shadows, but now that she's aware of them they seem so painfully obvious.

Were she still unaware, she might have run over to him and wrapped him in a hug, telling him that he can put up with the embarrassment of getting hugged by his baby sister after everything he put her through. She knows now, though, and the memory of his harsh voice telling her not to come any closer stops her in her tracks.

She wasn't his sister, but he was her brother.

Unable to move from her spot, big ugly tears roll down her cheeks. He hated that, too, but she can't help the way her heart aches as it desperately teeters between happiness and anguish.

"I thought you died! I mean, you were—" She chokes back a sob. "Are you... you aren't a different version that got summoned, are you...?"