milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The Bar's too complicated an environment for Gordon to handle today. Fascinating as the goings-on are, and enthusiastic as the people who chose trial forms may be, it's just too much. He seriously considered going back to his room and just staying there when he came down the stairs and saw that Cubefall was in full swing, but...

If I quit, if I give up, that's forever.

All right, it's a little overdramatic, but today he just hasn't got the energy to respond to anything less absolute. If someone's looking for him, they'll find him outside in his T-shirt and jeans, settled on the grassy ground with his back to a rock, looking out over the lake.

[tinytag: Gordon Freeman, Brand of Amber]

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The report of a gun can be heard, and a girl can be seen shooting at some targets that are impossibly far away.

"Shit," she said to herself, "Gotta remember to get 'em in the head."

Gordon isn't the only person outside. In fact there is another man off beside the inlet sitting in the sand with legs crossed and legs rolled up to his knees. A field of rocks and shells dance about him as if he were playing a game or trying to figure out a puzzel- either may be quite possible with the 'insane' brother from Amber.

If he doesn't pay attention, when a rock is kicked out, it goes flying in the glassed man's direction.

Gordon's sort of used to things flicking in at him from odd angles. Usually they scream, too, but he knows better than to count on that. One hand comes up reflexively as something flies towards-

Oh. It's a rock.

Well, he can probably let go of the crowbar with his other hand now.

Yeah. He could unless he wants to play baseball with them or try. Why? Because another one or two are coming his way along with the mutterings of the Prince as he tries to refine some sort of plan or another he's working out with said items.

"...move to Kashfa..No. Amber..no..Damnit.."

Gordon sighs and tosses the rock back in the other fellow's general direction, although not directly at him. It's more of a silent 'watch what you're doing' gesture than a threat display.

When the rock thumps back at him and rolls to rest at his side, Brand stops everything he is doing- the rocks and shells hovering in the air where he seemed to have left him. He looks down at the rock frowning at it knowing quite well it wasn't there before which leads him to looking back over his shoulder to where Gordon sits.

The expression upon his face reads 'do you mind?' as if he weren't the culpret involved in tossing it away in the first place.

Gordon just gives a very steady look in return and settles back into his position against the larger rock.

And awaits the inevitable retaliation, because he knows it's going to happen. Oh, by accident, maybe, and not anything close enough to really peg as malicious or damaging, but- yeah.

This would be about where the cheesy western music played at high noon picks up. No tumbleweeds, though, blow across the distance that seperates where Gordon is at compaired to Brand.

The prince, however, does lean forward resting his elbows upon his knees and chin in his hands watching with narrowed eyes. Maybe it was a staring contest of wills that was about to happen.

Gordon's expression evens out; he has nothing to glare about, so long as the rocks aren't flying his way. Let the other man stare all he likes. He's doing just fine, for now.

It is hard to miss Hel, when she leaves the place she's been staying and heads for the lake. She has a basket with her, draped over her left arm, and when she settles down she removes sewing from it. Despite the fact that there is enough cloth to cover Gordon four times with more to spare, the embroidery is as delicate as a machine could do.

... wow.

Wow.

The last time he saw anything that size and alive, it was the gargantuan things in Black Mesa.

Damn.

Half right, anyway, but when she notices his gaping the lips on the living side of her face curl into a wry smile and she says, "My mother was Jotun, a giant. I am of average size for her people."

Hel is a soprano.

... Gordon's going to just sort of reach under his chin and push his jaw closed now, mm'kay?

"Yes'm," he manages. "I, uh... wow. Didn't... expect to see you there."

Big big things are a part of reality, but big big things that are human looking, well, that's kind of freaky.

"I can guess that." Hel says, offering her living hand for shaking. Probably more like a fingertip for shaking, but she learned manners from human-sized people and they stuck. "I am Hel."

"Gordon Freeman," Gordon manages, reaching up to shake the offered hand. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." He pauses. "Miss? Um..."

Titles are a little tricky right now.

"Hel." she says firmly, "Just Hel. I tower over everyone enough that standing on ceremony on top of it would just be silly, now wouldn't it? You are not one of the Aesir, and you are certainly not one of mine, so there is no point in my being pushy about titles."

Besides, her name is more than enough for people who know her as goddess. Everything else is superfluous.

Gordon doesn't know her as a goddess- he's really not up on his Norse mythology beyond a vague understanding that dying in battle generally gets you into Valhalla, which beats the alternatives- but with a name like that it's probably not all that hard to figure out what he's dealing with.

"All right," he says. "Are you new here?"

Well, c'mon, he'd remember seeing her before!

"I am not." Hel says, shaking her head, "But I have not fit inside the bar in a very, very long time and I spend much of my time in the mountains and woods. There is no sun in Niflheim, I miss it when I am there."

"Can't say I know that name," says Gordon. "That a world?"

Xen didn't exactly have sun, either.

"It is the realm of the damned." Hel says, nodding once, "Those that the gods of Asgard disdain; the mothers, children, bards, tailors, servants, and anyone who is not a warrior."

Gordon never thought much of anybody's gods to begin with, so he's not about to call that arbitrary or unfair. He's just going to nod. "I always wondered what happened to the people who didn't rate Valhalla."

"They are sent to me." Hel says, "There to fade into mindlessness. There is nothing that I can do for them." This? Outrages her. Somewhere along the line revenge took second place to getting justice for her people.

... okay, that's unfair.

It kind of shows on his face.

"Yes." Hel agrees, "It is. They deserve far better. I will kill the gods, and that is my only comfort."

"Good luck," murmurs Gordon. "Sounds like they probably deserve it."

"Thank you." Hel says, dipping her head with a small nod. "It is written, it will be so."

"When?" asks Gordon, out of a kind of morbid curiosity. "Or should I not ask?"

"I do not think that the worlds match up well." Hel says with a shake of her head, "The future, still.

"Just wondering," says Gordon.

It occurs to him that the battle is going to be titanic on levels that nothing even Xen held could approach. That's going to be something to see...

"It will be the end of one world, and the beginning of another." Hel says quietly, lifting her left hand a little bit, "I do not know if I will see it, but I will be part of the change. Perhaps it will be better. That is my hope."

Gordon nods. He's not sure, from the sound of it, that worse is an option.

And it occurs to him to think: he asked GLaDOS if the world was still there in her time. Would he know it at all when he saw it? If it ended and began all over again without him?

Hel dips her head once more, and falls silent. She's used to silence, although she doesn't dislike it when people are talking...but her time scale is skewed, so if Gordon takes an hour or two to think about things she'll still be able to pick up the conversation where they left off.

Eventually- how long, we don't know- Gordon looks back towards Hel. "Anyone else here from your world?"

"Svava and Helgi." Hel says, "No other gods, however. One ex-Valkyrie and one hero. I am fond of the hero."

Gordon nods. "I've heard of a lot of people around here claiming to be gods," he says. "I don't think I've met any, until now."

Hel shrugs a little bit and says, "I do not require you believe. This is the only place where I can be just Hel, instead of Hel." There's a difference. The difference is death; illness, accident, old age. The body wearing out and slowing down. Murder with no hope of fighting back, it's all there in her name the second time she says it. "My only friends are from here."

"Probably just as well," says Gordon quietly.

He's trying not to let the memories rise at the sound of her name the second time- it reminds him too much of the trash compactor, and the moment when the only thing he wanted in the world was to die in the sunlight.

"I'm not much good at believing anyway. I just deal."

"That is the best way to live." Hel says; she's not someone who has ever had much hope in her life. "From one day to the next, taking what you can."

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