milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

A very tall, lanky Viking enters the bar.

Floki's first reaction is genuine surprise, because even though he's been here before, it's been at least four years since any of his doors opened up to the magic place.

His second reaction is...well, more surprise, because what in Hel's name are all these little blocks doing everywhere?

A screen at the bar is even more startling. A voice explains that today is a holiday, and that he has three days to choose to change into another form.

Why would he want to do that? This magic is strange.

But he looks at his options anyway: a spindly robot; an aye-aye; a stork; or some kind of dragon called a Velociraptor.

(Is someone trying to tell him something?)

Fortunately, he doesn't have to make a choice right now, or at all, if he doesn't want to.

These blocks, though. They fit together. Like little bricks without the mortar.

omfg he can build things with them

Floki will just be over here, building all the things.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eyes wide, he exhales a breath in amazement.

His own hands hover around hers, cupping them very lightly for a moment before drawing them away, his gestures light and flitting.

"I have never seen magic like this before. This is truly a skill from the gods!"

The girl smiles and ducks her head, a bit bashful in the face of his amazement. "It's just transmuting, and then only little stuff. My grandmother and all my father's family could do more."

"You don't have magic in your world?"

"Oh, yes, yes, we do have magic," he says, "but I do not know of anyone with magic like yours. But we do have seiðr and the völva, and many others who can do things like cast spells, shape-shift, speak with the dead, and foresee the future. As it is with the gods, magic is very real, though some people who do not understand it will doubt it."

He smiles at her, lowering his voice.

"I am glad that you understand it. The world needs more children who do, so that they may carry it with them their whole lives, and then someday pass it on to others. That is how magic stays alive."

While he speaks, he ties a length of string to one bottom corner of the sail, and another (still attached to the spool) to the other corner. Pulling on these strings adjusts the direction of the sail, just as the rigging would do on a real ship. After testing the sail's mobility, he determines that the model is good to go.

"There, now! I think this boat is seaworthy! Or rather, lakeworthy, at least."

"My world has spell-casters and hex-slingers and charm-twisters and stuff-changers," she smiles, a little guiltily, like a child saying words that perhaps she shouldn't say. "And seers. Shape-shifters, too, but they're usually weres, not magic-handlers. Ward-crafting is really important, because they offer all sorts of protections for people and their homes. Like home wards against theft, or against something catching fire, and personal protection wards against injury or danger. Magic is pretty much everywhere."

"My mom doesn't... really..." her mouth twists slightly and she shakes her head, not wanting to speak ill of her mother. "Mom wouldn't want me learning it. She doesn't know about my grandmother teaching me."

Rae smiles lightly at the boat and its maker, and follows along towards the lake. "It's a really pretty boat. How much wind d'you think it'd need to go?"

Floki nods, as all of those things are familiar to him. He himself has never practiced them (at least just a few of them of them), but he knows people for whom it is an art and a way of life.

He wouldn't want to speak ill of her mother either, but in a world full of magic, he doesn't see why she should object. "How come your mother doesn't want you to learn about it?"

With the boat cradled in the crook of his arm and the string gathered up, they make their way to the lake. They make an odd visual pair, the stork-like Viking loping along with a little flame-haired girl beside him.

"A pretty boat for which you have made a very pretty sail," he adds. "It should not take much of a breeze; but it should also be able to ride the natural ripples in the water. Let's see..."

He gives the string to Rae to hold, unwinding a good length, before carrying the boat out to where the water is several inches above his ankles.

Rae doesn't answer his question immediately, but holds onto the string, watching him carry the little boat out into the water. This isn't something that is talked about, not something easy to put into words.

"Because..." Dad could do it, and we left him because what he was doing was putting us in danger. And... she wouldn't be happy, knowing I could do it, too, even if I'd never put us in danger by it. I'd be in a lot of trouble, if she found out, and she wouldn't let me see my grandmother again."

What she doesn't say is this: And I don't want her to leave me, too.

Floki carefully sets the boat on the water -- and it floats perfectly. It doesn't even tip this way or that. After making sure that there are no leaks, he wades back to the shore and crouches by Rae's side as she speaks.

He huffs a sympathetic sigh into his mustache.

"It makes me sad to hear that, child. I wish things were not so for you. But you are with your mother now, and you must make her happy if you are to keep seeing your grandmother. You have a beautiful gift that should not be denied."

The boat bobs merrily on the rippling water, tugging lightly on the strings as if eager to float away.

Floki reaches over and unwinds more string, before cupping Rae's hands in his.

"Pull the strings to turn the sail left or right, and see if you can catch a breeze."

She doesn't say that she hasn't seen her grandmother in months, ever since the Wars began. Since the postcards from her father stopped, as well. She doesn't know what happened to her father's family, just that they disappeared from the world, and she is not allowed to ask her mother what might have happened to them. The bit of magic she had done for Floki was the first bit of magic she has done in quite a while.

Rae tugs the string, angling towards their right, searching for a breeze. The variable weather of early summer lends itself to their purpose, and after a few moments of searching, the little sail lifts slightly, and the boat begins to bob in a more purposeful way, intent on following the breeze.

Rae beams at it. "Got one!"

"Ooh, look, yes, very good!" Floki hoots, pointing.

Their spirits are lifted by the little boat wanting to sail away on its own.

"I built a real version of this ship back home, but I have not tested it yet. Ragnar and I will do that soon before we sail it to England. But this is a very good sign indeed!"

"That one will work even better," she nods and grins, sure. The boat tugs on the string, eager to explore. "I'm glad we got to try this one out, even if it took four years."

Or a couple of weeks, depending on which way one is facing.

He unwinds more string, feeding it through Rae's fingers, letting the boat drift more freely.

"Better late than never," he agrees cheerfully.

"I think I will leave it here with Lady Bar, to give to Gyda to look after. Do you know her? She is Ragnar's daughter, and I myself think of her as my own niece."

"I know Gyda!" Rae beams at him. "We're both in the Milli-scouts, and played in the Pseudo-assassination game together."

"Oh!" he chirps. "That is good! She mentioned the Milli-scouts to me, but-- what was this Pseudo-assassination game? And who won?"

(He can't resist asking.)

"Every player's given stickers, and a target from among the players," she explains, grinning. "You don't know who's targeting you, just who you're targeting. You gotta put a sticker on them that says 'Assassinated!' before they either figure out you're after them, or without them getting away. If you get stickered, you're out of the game. If you sticker someone, you inherit their target and keep playing."

"It came down to Dorian and me, in the end. We assassinated each other and couldn't tell who'd gotten who first. He won overall because he had the higher score, but I won among the Milli-Scouts. Got a Master Pseudo-Assassin badge for winning - has a ninja on it."

Even if Floki doesn't know what a sticker is, he has an idea that it's some kind of marker, and he nods along, amused and fascinated.

(And little does he realize, but he's seen this Dorian fellow at Uppsala, back home.)

"Hmm, I rather like the idea of being sneaky to eliminate your targets. Just like Loki. How did Gyda do?"

Rae ducks her head a little, grinning sheepishly. "She was my first target. I distracted her with my school textbooks to get close enough."

Floki gasps. Dramatically.

"You assassinated a Viking? Oh, you will be made to pay for that!"

A pause, and a shrug.

"Or! You can simply make me a promise."

"Don't worry, she recovered perfectly," she giggles. "We had milkshakes, after."

"What sort of promise?"

"Well, if milk-shakes are enough to settle things, then I suppose I can let this one go," he says with a wink.

"But the only promise I would have you make is to never forget your magic." And here he becomes completely sincere, turning to look at her with earnestness. "Even if you must keep it secret, do not let it die within you. It is a part of you. Use it for good things, and the gods will smile upon you."

The girl's lips press together and she swallows, giggles gone.

"I... don't know if I can promise that," she says with difficulty, knowing this isn't enough. There isn't really anywhere safe to use it, back home, that her mother couldn't find out about. The cabin by the lake had been a sanctuary where she could go with her grandmother and not worry about being caught.

And her mother is already under so much pressure, with the new baby and the coffeehouse and with all the fears the Wars have brought. Rae doesn't want to make it worse; she doesn't want to make her mother upset with her any more than she has already done. He is asking more than he knows. She is genuinely not sure it is a promise she can keep, and it isn't the sort of thing she would promise off-hand, knowing that. "But I'll try."

He senses her hesitation, and the uncertainty in her whole being, and he wishes it didn't have to be that way for her.

But he nods.

"Yes. Try. That is all. Keep the magic in here--" He gestures at her head, his fingers fluttering at her brow as if blessing her. "--and in here--" He points two fingers at her heart, circling them as if stirring up a spell. "--and it will live on. You can do it."

And he smiles encouragingly, the black lines around his eyes deepening.

The girl looks up at him, solemn and sincere, and nods.

"All my dad's family had magic. My grandmother was teaching me in secret each month, for a year or two, but... they all disappeared, just before the Wars started. I've not heard from my gran or my father for nearly half a year now."

She doesn't want to think that she might be the last of that family.

Floki kneels down on the ground so she doesn't have to crane her neck looking up at him.

And she doesn't have to explain what the Wars are for, or why people who know magic are disappearing. That is her reality, not his, and if she wants to say any more, it's her choice.

"I am so sorry, Rae," he says, heartfelt.

The girl nods, trying to smile despite the feeling gnawing at her heart. Trying to put a brave face on a difficult situation that seems to grow darker by the day.

"It's... easier, here. I can talk about it."

The disappearance of her father's family, so prominent and well-known in society, had been on the news for days when it happened. Kids who were openly from magic-handling families had gossiped about it in hushed tones at school.

Her mother never so much as remarked on it, and Rae hadn't dared ask.

"Only if you want to."

He pauses, looking hesitant.

"I know that some things might be difficult to say, or to explain. My own family-- we used to not talk about certain things, so-- it's all right if you don't want to. I will understand."