milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Pre-Milliways

The door opens, with a slam. No one coming through, yet. Somehow, with the optional physics that Milliways has, looking out it is like looking up. A very long way up.

Dimly is the figure of a large man seen. With something in his hand. And then the something is falling.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

She hits the ground, in the bar. Physics apparently changes enough that she ends up on the floor near the door, scrambling to her knees just as it slams shut. She pounds on it, gloved left hand and un-gloved right hand, screaming.

"NO! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! DADDY, DON'T LET THEM! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

Her hair is over the left side of her face, glimpses of the right show a teenage girl who could be, somehow, related to Svava. Blue eyes, blond hair. Taller than the Valkyrie, yes, but looking like she's got more growing to do.

Her fists pound the door unceasingly, and she continues to scream for her father.

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Yamino nods and removes his glasses, removes the tie from his hair. A glow, a flash of light...and a snake, head high as a humans, sits coiled there. Within a moment he has slithered into the embrace, wrapping carefully around Hel.

Sister...sister, I'm here. It's me, sister...though obviously not...not my normal size. But I'm here, I'm with father. We are...we are here.

The snake blinks as his father.

Loki holds onto his children.

"You did nothing. None of you did anything."

Fire and embers, what has been done to them for me. Fire and embers, what they are to do. Fire and embers, I hate Odin.

David nods to Loki, Yamino, and to Hel.

"No harm. Just here in case I'm needed."

He says nothing of transformations; he's getting almost used to it.

"Greetings, David." Says the nascent queen of the dead. She moves one arm enough to give Jormungand a hug, and looks up at the Man. Yes, capital letter. She comes from a world where Men are a species deserving one. The mummified, hideous side of her face is in plain view, now. The other half is still young and lined only by recent sorrow. It is possibly hard for non-family to look at her. "I am pleased to meet a friend of my Father." That it would be better under better circumstances is, she thinks, obvious.

He lowers his eyes out of respect for Her. "Lady Hel," he whispers. "Many, MANY stories have been told about you. And your Father..." he looks to Loki, "speaks so highly of you."

A bitter laugh exits him. It's obvious to him as well. He pulls back, only a little, and stares at her, stares at his daughter. She is not the same. She is not his daughter, and he knows this. But the essence...the essence is the same...and he will take what he can get. She is his daughter in all ways that count to him.

"He is a friend, a good friend...and...if you are here, then..."

He smiles gently at her, tiredly at her...sadly at her.

This place will be all she will have, I have no doubt. The only relief from Niflheim. But she will have me. And she will have Jormungand. And...I shall have to bring Fenrir, I suppose.

"You will have us here. We know...the difference. I am not...you are..."

He closes his eyes.

"You are my daughter. I am your father. Jormungand is your brother...and I will bring Fenrir to see you, and he is your brother."

He curls around her again.

"And I love you."

Considering the last time he had seen his Hel, this was important.

The snake nuzzles his head at her arm.

Brother will be so pleased to see you too. I have missed you, sister.

"I know. Like, but not quite, my daddy. Like, but not quite, my brother. " She hugs him back, hard, then looks at the door. She knows that the next time she opens it she'll fall again, the rest of the way down. Her hands, gloved and naked, rub her face and she gathers the fragile dignity of fifteen around herself; "I haven't had a time to miss you, brother." She sets a gentle, if lopsided, kiss on the scaled head, "I just saw you...but they threw you. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything." And finally she speaks to the first who spoke to her; "I don't see why. I haven't done anything..."

"I retrieved him. He is with me now..."

As you are now...

"Daughter, if...if you will remain with Yamino...I mean, Jormungand...I will go fetch Fenrir. He will be...pleased to see you."

Loki stands, wings black and eyes steel gray.

And then, in a flurry of feathers and a last whispered expression of love only she and Yamino hear...he is gone.

Yamino twists more of his body around his sister and flicks his tongue against the dead side of Hel's face and then the living side. He nuzzles the living side.

We all have a place, sister, he refers to yours. The one you will take...once you exit that door, no doubt. We all have a place, but...this place is outside such things. And your place is with us. And I am glad to see you. It has been a long time since I was thrown...but the pain is still fresh and real. Know my love and we shall share the pain and perhaps that burden will be less.

He watches Loki go.

He'll be back. He is getting brother...and probably blowing off some steam. He is Fire. He has a temper. He...has had many things happen recently which made your appearance...especially painful. He will return soon, though. Do not worry.

"Alright." She nods, and rubs the snake head comfortingly. For her or for him isn't immediately obvious; "Does he, David, know how its all going to turn out then? In the end?" The question is for Jormungand and David both, but she's not used to talking to strangers.

David shakes his head, kneeling down.

"I don't know how it will turn out."

He holds his hand to Yamino.

"Jormungand..."

Will he be okay? Will she be okay?

She nods, several times...like a marionette. "Oh. Okay. You look odd. For a Man. Strange clothing." This is shock. It makes you do things. On the other hand, when shock sets in it generally means hysteria is over.

"So I've been told," he says with a faint smile, sitting cross-legged. "Although I'm technically no longer a man."

"Then what are you, if you aren't a Man? You aren't an elf, or a dwarf. You're not Aesir, or a giant like momma." Jormungand, Yamino, whatever you want to call him, is supportive but silent around her. She, however, has fallen back into her normal habit of covering her left side with hair and has her head tilted so that David only has to look at the living skin.

He reaches a hand forward, gently, slowly that she can bat him away if needs be, and brushes her hair aside.

"I was a mortal, once. Or twice. Or three times. I'm a vampyr. Vampire. Blood-drinker. But you don't need to worry. I don't harm anyone but the evildoer."

She lets him touch her, and then nods at the touch, "Oh. You're a form of the dead. I should have known that. I am too. But only half-way." Which almost makes her smile, but it doesn't quite reach her lips or eyes.

"That I am. And only half-way, too. My body is dead, but my soul and my mind live. Or something like that. And you," he says, "look more alive than I do."

She turns so that he has to look at the left side of her face; "No, I don't. Its okay, though. I know I'm ugly, there. I don't mind."

"Life isn't in the skin," he whispers. "And you're not ugly. Just because it's not a defintion of perfection doesn't mean it's not beautiful."

He touches her cheek carefully.

Its cold, and dead, and withered. If he'd ever touched a mummy, it feels like that. She winces, just slightly, and gives a little shrug; "My face is ugly. It doesn't mean I'm bad, it doesn't and I know that. It just means that I'm not pretty. As for half dead...I am. My heart beats sometimes, but not always, and I don't really eat. And, of course, I see her all the time." she waves vaguely off to her blind side.

David hasn't ever touched a Mummy, but the cold, dead touch is something he's familiar with. Rather intimately.

"You see her because she's part of you. Your heart beats because part of you lives; you don't eat because you don't mostly need to.

"I think you have a lot more in common with me than we realise," he says with a wry smile.

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