A Viking not quite comprehending a football match

[bigarmy_strangepants]

 Ragnar Lothbrok is sitting at the bar, drinking ale and trying to comprehend the game going on on the screen behind the bar.

It's some blue guys against some white guys, and the blue guys have names that sound familiar to Ragnar. One of them is even called Ragnar, too. And they definitely know how a shieldwall works.

He doesn't quite understand what is going on, but he is probably getting there. And rooting for the blue ones whenever he understands what they are doing.

Comments

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly has the slightly glazed look of someone who has been watching far too much televised football lately. He's got close to six hours a day to keep up with. So it's a somewhat distracted nod he gives Ragnar at first, and then only belatedly asks, "Are you for Iceland?"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"They're the blue ones?" Ragnar asks, turning his head. "With the sensible names? Ísland?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"That's them, yes." He smiles a little. "I'm sort of rooting for them too, but it's not--the other team's Hungary, I don't have a, a side I'm really for. I think it might be Iceland's first time in this tournament?"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I don't know," Ragnar says. "I caught this by chance. Where is this Ice-Land?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"It's an island--it's, oh--" Ragnar knows where England is, by that name (or else Milliways translates well enough). "The large one well out, north-west of England? West of what I'd call Norway. I--hm, I really don't know if it had been settled in your time--" Out comes his little notebook and he jots the question down: Iceland history. "It has, um--volcanoes and geysers--"

This is delivered in fits and starts as his eyes keep going back to the screen. It's all right, though, the shieldwall is holding.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Byond England is Ireland," Ragnar says. "And to the north, the Orkneys. We didn't get any further yet. I have seen maps from the future, so I can imagine where that must be. There are some islands there."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Much farther out than Ireland--or the Orkneys--it's well out into the ocean. A large island," he adds thoughtfully. "I'd say--larger than Ireland, but not as much useful land. If you've seen maps--if you've seen maps, you'll have seen the very large island north of North America--Iceland lies nearer to that than to England--"

But Feuilly's already sketching a map in his notebook as he talks, and shows it to Ragnar. Iceland. "And Hungary is down this way."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Ah, so Hungary is down there, on the road to Miklagard," Ragnar says. "And yes, I've seen that island on maps. It looks like a small fat dragon with several heads. I suppose the people must be descended from us, to have names just like ours?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I think so. I'm afraid I don't really know much of that history." He's looking a little wry by now: Feuilly used to worry about giving the Viking ideas for new land to raid. But Ragnar's seen maps here already--and anyway, if there's no one living in Iceland in his time, who's hurt by it?

[soldier_blade]

ooc: I'll tag with Matilda a little later, just wanted these two to 'meet' once more.

"Hoping for a win from iceland?" The woman speaking to him would've looked familiar, but clearly older by a few decades.

Sonya couldn't remember the last time she allowed herself to enjoy any sort of sports game. Most of the time she was too busy to allow herself to enjoy one.

"Mind if I join you?" She was half on her way to sitting at the table anyway, only figuring it polite to ask first.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Of course, they have familiar names," Ragnar says. "Do sit down. Want some ale?"

[soldier_blade]

"Seems as good a reason as any." Country loyalty and all that. "And sure."

She pulled up a chair, facing the screen and accepting the other wooden tumbler. Between the man's dress and way of drinking ale, she was guessing he wasn't familiar with watching this-somehow that made watching with him even more exciting. "Name's Sonya Blade."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Of course it is," Ragnar says "I know you."

[soldier_blade]

That got her attention over the game, and she turned to give him a closer look, whereas before it was more the screen that took over. "Actually, the Sonya you knew was from another timeline."

She'd gone through this song and dance before. While Ragnar's presence didn't string up as strong a memory as Athelstan, they were still present. "It's happened with a few people here already, don't ask, I'm not sure how or why, just that it happens."

Sonya's attention was back on on the screen. Number 7 of Iceland had the ball and was sending it towards the goal post. "Send it to 10, come on, he's wide open!"

Austria was ganging up on the guy, but they left number 10 open and free to take the ball.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"So you don't even remember us?" Ragnar asks.

[soldier_blade]

She watched as No.7 kicked the ball to another player. She'd had this sort of conversation so many times already.

"Some of you, yes." She admitted, twisting her drink around in her grip. "I wouldn't say it's like memories, but more like recalling a vision from a dream, less details and more just emotions. Some it's stronger than others, probably to do with connection to the other timeline."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Do you at least remember Athelstan?" Ragnar asks.

[thewidewideworld]

A rather handsome youth comes over to watch, head cocked as he too tries to work out what's going on.

"Some form of combat practice?" He asks in a soft but deep voice.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

RAgnar looks at him. He looks oddly familiar.

"No, it's a game," he says. "The ball must be kicked into the frame with the net, and it's white against blue. The red guy guards the blue net, the green guy guards the white net, and the bald yellow guy is the judge. They're not allowed to use their hands, and technically not supposed to brawl. It's quite fun."

He looks at the young man again. Definitely familiar!

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric pushes the hair back from his face in a gesture of sheer habit, always shocked when he runs out of hair to push back so soon.

The game is too fascinating for him to notice Ragnar's quizzical look. "I think the soldiers use to play something similar. Without a judge however. And with far fewer rules, I suspect."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Which soldiers?" Ragnar asks, suspecting that the answer will supply him with another hint.

"Oh no, what are they doing??"

There's something of a melée, and several players fall over each other.

[thewidewideworld]

He comes to sit beside Ragnar, familiarly close as he watches the scene play out. "Constantine's." He answers absently, forgetting the body he's in. "Oh dear. The judge does not seem happy."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Sinric!" Ragnar says. "You're male for that holiday!"

Riddle solved.

"Not happy at all, which is only proper, as the Hungarian nithing clearly tripped the man up!"

[thewidewideworld]

"Oh, yes! I almost forgot." He straightens and presents himself. "Do you like how I look like this?" It's asked as openly as Sinric might ask if Ragnar likes his dress.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar turns to look over at him properly, despite the football.

"You look very handsome and strong, but still familiar," he says. "How does it feel?"