milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Hel and her player have a lot in common. Not species, looks (thank God), size, or abilities, but both of them have hips that hurt like demons are sitting on them and prodding them with pitchforks.

The player is on drugs. Hel is not. Coherency may be skittish, but Hel is around to be spoken with, should people so desire. Even, one supposes, Desire, although the only real relationship with it that she has is that of interested observer.

I mentioned drugs, right? Right.

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He sighs because he's really useless at giving advice most of the time.

'It was fine. Boring. A bit tense. Look Hel, I'm sorry if he's an asshole. You want me to go and speak to him for you? You know I will, if you don't think it'll make things worse.'

"That's very sweet of you, Ramon, but as much as I love him,"

And she does, or it wouldn't hurt so much,

"he's unpredictable at best. Insane at worse. And a god. I think its something I just have to...expect. Accept."

'You don't have to accept him being horrible to you! And I'm not afraid of him. If he trats you badly, I will find him.'

He means it as well. After everything she's done for him, he's not just going to abandon her to the mood swings of a nasty father. Besides, it's Hel.

He gets cuddled again, and eventually she says,

Because who else would fight Loki for her? Who else is crazy enough?

He grins and hugs her back.

'Anytime. I mean it, just tell me if he hurts you.'

It's not like he needs much of an excuse to do something crazy.

He's a Berserkar. He is an excuse to do something crazy.

"I will."

Well, there is that. He's trying to be calmer these days though - yeah, good luck with that Ramon.

He settles into a chair finally and asks, 'Apart from that, is everything OK?'

"Apart from that everything is fine."

She assures him, with a nod.

'Glad to hear it.'

He's quiet for a moment as he picks on a loose thread on the chair's arm, then sighs.

'I'm leaving pretty soon. You'll be alright with him until I get back?'

"I will."

She tells him, soberly, then attempts to make a joke of it.

"Perhaps I shall hide behind Random, yes?"

...we never said it would be a good joke.

He laughs anyway, because the image of it is funny.

'Well, you know he'd try and protect you. He'll be able to get his hands on my sword while I'm away though it'll be a bad thing if he kills you. But he can definitely threaten.'

She hadn't thought of that,

"Oh, I hope he doesn't...that would be..."

Even thinking about it makes her head hurt.

Ramon laughs and rubs her hand.

'Don't worry, he's a lot more sensible with that sort of thing than I am. He won't harm him if he's from before your birth. He knows better - but like I said, Loki doesn't know that.'

"That is true."

She laughs a little bit and turns her hand over to curl around Ramon's (the effect is not unlike a large man curling a hand around a baby's),

"The two of you...I am blessed to have met you."

'Well, we're just as blessed to have met you.'

The size of her hand in comparison to his looks strange, and he eyes it with a grin. Then he thinks of something and he looks at her sharply.

'You're not going to leave now he's here are you?'

She shakes her head, and grips his hand firmly (but not hard. He's fragile!),

"I won't. Not until I must...and now isn't that time."

He would certainly object to being thought of as fragile. Loudly, in fact.

'That's good then - do you have any idea when that'll be? Not soon I hope?'

Ittybitty little men often do resent being called fragile. She would never be so cruel as to mention his, er, shortcomings.

"Not soon."

She says, firmly, and nods to back that up.

...that's not helping.

'Glad to hear it.'

He sits on the edge of his chair, restless tonight. He's wondering, maybe, whether staying out of concern for Hel is a valid excuse for staying. Probably not becuase there are other people here that are better quipped to take proper care of her. But still.

"We all do what we have to."

It takes a moment, but she says it in the end,

"I will be here."

When you get back.

He relaxes a little bit, looks at his hands and nods.

'Si. I believe you. I don't know how long it'll be but I don't think too long - unless I actually manage to live. Could be longer then, I dont know.'

"I spent twenty four hundred years making you a sword."

She says dryly,

"I can wait."

'Yeah.'

He looks at her and wonders whether the dry tone of voice means that she would rather not have done it. And then tells himself that he's being stupid and is just edgy and tired.

'Think I'd better go Hel. I'm not enjoying the bar much at the moment.' He's tending to spen all his time with Random, perhaps understandably so.

'You're going to be OK though, right?'

She pulls him into another hug before letting go, reading the expression well,

"I just meant that I can wait as long as it takes."

And she works her fingers in a small movement,

"Bleßun, minn Ramon."

He smiles at her one last time, then kisses her cheek.

'Thank you Hel. You've done a lot for me, I appreciate it.'

It's about as effusive as he gets with friends, but it's no less heart-felt for its simplicity. He squeezes her hand once more and releases it, then straightens.

'I'll see you when I get back then. Look after yourself Hel.'

One last look at her, just in case - then he's gone through his Trump.

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