A small unfinished word doodle of my new Norn, Hradi, who finds a Trahearne who didn't die in the jungle while helping out in the fractals during soto.
There was something familiar about the jungle. Not just that it was Meguumaāthey'd recognize the vines of Meguuma anywhere, remembers them best the way they had wrapped aroundā
They shut the thought down before it can fully form, close their eyes and take a deep breath. Torvi presses against their hip, nosing his head under their hand. It was a good thing because after two steps into the clearing ahead, Hradi's entire body froze.
It wasn't that they knew who was kneeling next to an injured woman, carefully cleaning a gash in her arm. It was just that htey would have recognized the shape of him anywhere, anytime. The way the leaves fell across his forehead, that subtle golden glow, like a sunrise in the Grove. The warm gold of his eyes staring right at Hradi.
"Hradi?" His voice cracked. "Hradi Eyjolfsson?"
The words wouldn't come. They lodged in Hradi's throat and threatened to choke them.
The old curseāthe silence from avalanche and the blizzard and 12 year old Hradi losing everything they'd ever known. It never really left them.
They opened their mouth and nothing came out and Trahearne's eyes softened like he knew, like he recognized it, and he gestured with his head to the wounded around them.
"We could use more hands," he said, offered really, because it was always easier for Hradi when there was work for their hands. They nodded shortly and just managed to tear their eyes away from him, setting to work.
This was familiarāthe cleaning and bandaging and soothing the wounded the best they could, which mostly involved Torvi purring at them and allowing them to coo over him to distract from the fact that Hradi couldn't speak. At some point, the Astral Ward flooded in and Hradi was able to back off and find a spot to breathe.
Trahearne's steps had never been lightāfor all that he became a general, a warrior even, he was still ever a scholar. Hradi would have recognized the pattern of his gait even if had only been able to feel the vibrations of it against the jungle floor. They were a hunterārecognizing the pattern of footfalls, of careful steps, was ingrained in them.
"You're alive," Trahearne said, like that was a wonder, like Hradi standing before him was a miracle he'd never thought to ask for.
Hradi swallowed hard, both against the bile that rose at the thought of any version of Trahearne saying that about them, in that tone, when they hadāAnd against the words that just wouldn't come, that lodged in their throat with the intent to choke.
"So are you," they finally managed to get out, their voice rough and raw like it'd been dragged through gravel or burned out by a god.
"You're different," he added, glancing over towards the Astral Ward. They must have explained about the fractal, then, while Hradi was busy not having another breakdown. "Not justā" he shook his head. "Last I saw you, or a version of you I suppose, you had a braid. You were younger, lessā" He looked Hradi up and down, like he could see right through him. He always had been able to; it was almost a comfort that any version of him could.
Hradi shrugged, looking down. Torvi pressed against them, eyeing Trahearne. "So were you." At least, mostly. This Trahearne had escaped Mordremoth mostly intact, it seemed. He was taller and there were cracks in his bark, parts that looked darker or yellower or a little more corrupted than before, but he was, unmistakably, still Trahearne. Still fighting the corruption. Hradi could see it coiled around him like the vines of the jungle, not holding him in place, but burrowing deeper, dragging the dead dragon further into Trahearne.
