ataraxionlogs | EVENT: MELPOMENE ▒ HOME

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EVENT: MELPOMENE ▒ HOME

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: Corridors in the belly of the Tranquility
WARNINGS: Creepiness, disturbing imagery, violence, etc.
SUMMARY: Characters discover slices of sanctuary deep in the maze.
NOTES: Open to all! Covers Stage Four of the plot & Escape.

You've been running and fighting for what feels like weeks now. Exhausted and desperate, you find another door, stumbling through into—

You're home, finally, far away and safe from monsters or spaceships. You're not alone, someone here who's been waiting for you, and they're so happy to see you. Relief overcomes you; you just want to rest, and there's no reason to believe anything here isn't what it seems, is there?

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[ though she doesn't address him now, she is never unaware of his steadfast presence at her back. it is a comfort. if she'd had to face this creature alone, she might have gone mad. he provided much-needed levity and strength that once again make her feel as though she is standing side-by-side with dozens of her people in a battle formation. formidable because of their unity.

now, she will ensure that he does not get hurt as she is. her limp is pronounced enough to be cumbersome. while she runs on adrenaline like she is currently, the pain is dulled to a bearable minimum. but she knows that she will need to take care of this quickly. as much as she dreads it. the creature wearing her daughter's face throws back its head and laughs, almost gloating. ]

"Ragnar made that choice because you are weak!" [ on a good day, her temper is tethered by an incredibly short fuse. today, it is nonexistent. she trusts that her companion will not judge her for flying into the rage she does, baring her teeth at the child. there is a moment where it and she lock gazes, assessing one-another. and then it charges, but not at her.

lagertha pushes herself into overdrive to intercept the course, determined that no harm shall come to him. her feet pound against the dirt and her knees skid and are skinned as she skids toward the creature level with its abdomen and slams the daggers home. the image of gyda halts and looms over her, eyes wide and dilated with shock and surprise before w rattling wheeze escapes its throat, and the body slumps over.

before it even hits the ground, there are tears in lagertha's eyes. she can't even catch her breath, because she is laying herself over the still form of her daughter's image, feeling that rending and shattering of her heart all over again. and she weeps, for the first time in what feels like an age. even for her, this is too much. ]

[ Robin can only watch, partially struck dumb that this can happen at all, and another part of him feeling that it's somehow not right for him to intrude on what's unfolding before his eyes. He has his weapon ready, should things escalate to a point that he needs to intervene.

But he restrains himself for now, not wanting to be the one killing her "daughter," not when he knows she's already lost the girl before. He's silently grateful when she steps in front of him, and immediately aims his arrow, but it proves to be unnecessary before he's even had a chance to fully catch his breath.

The "girl" is gone, and the anguish coming from the other woman is palpable, slicing a sharp line right down the center of his heart. He has no need for his weapon at the moment, so he sets it down and kneels beside his companion after a few long moments have passed. His hand comes to rest on her back, holding there for now in an attempt to offer some comfort. ]

[ the grief is shattering, tearing at what's left of the heart ragnar has so recently broken. it's a resilient organ, but in the past several months, it has been through the wringer. to see the daughter she's already said goodbye to once crumpled and lifeless at her feet by her own hand is more than she can bear. and she will never say it, because she would rather tear out her lungs than expose further weakness in herself. but she is grateful for her companion's supportive presence at her back.

lagertha does not recoil from him, much too focused upon the grief she cannot conceal this second time to do so. she is weeping, but she makes no sound whatsoever. her chest is so tight and her throat so tied up in knots thanks to her silent sobbing that it's difficult to breathe. her hands clutch uselessly at the body of her "daughter", holding it to her breast while she chokes out whispered apologies to her true daughter in norse. their nanites will translate, of course, but it hardly matters.

her companion has saved her life, as she has saved his. and though she is much aggrieved, she can't regret that. a good deal of time goes by before the tears finally stop, and only then does she turn her head to once again be surprised that he is still there. ]

...Thank you.

[ for coming to her rescue not once but twice, and for staying now. there are no words for how much such basic empathy and kindness mean to her. the words are whispered quietly, her voice hoarse and choked. but she is able to manage a small smile for him. it's something. ]

[ It doesn't feel entirely appropriate for him to say any sort of prayer aloud, not knowing what she believes about the afterlife. It hardly matters to him if they differ in those beliefs, but this is a moment just for her to contend with her grief; the wound has been reopened, the pain visceral and likely all she can focus on. He doesn't want to do anything to undermine her journey through these painful moments.

All the words of comfort he can think to utter sound like hollow platitudes to him, which is why he simply remains where he is, keeping a hand at her back. It's a way to tell her that he's here without stating the obvious.

Feeling helpless and uncertain as to how else he could possibly make this better, Robin returns her small smile with one of his own. And then he reaches down in a demonstration of respect, to smooth a hand over the back of the young girl's head. It's a slight touch, and he hopes it doesn't offend his companion, but it feels right to do it, because he's sharing this moment with her. ]

May she rest well.

[ originally when the plague had taken her the first time, athelstan had been there to whisper one of his christian prayers over the body of her daughter. it hadn't offended her in the least. she is aware that other lands have different forms of belief. robin is free to pray or say whatever he likes. after all they have just been through, she'd give him that allowance, which only athelstan has ever otherwise had.

for a while, she lets herself do what she hadn't been able to do not so long ago: just sit here, smoothing her fingers through her daughter's hair, drawing the pad of a thumb gently across her pale cheek. there is a void in her which no one else will ever occupy. slowly, she leans forward and presses a kiss to a brow now gone cold and still, while her companion exerts an incredible sense of gentleness in the way he smooths the child's hair back. ]

I shall send you back to the Gods, Gyda. Watch over your little brother for me, until I might see you both again.

[ there are no tears left to cry, though the yawning abyss which has become her heart has numbed her so much that she could not even if she wished it. all she can do is give another look a silent, pained gratitude to her companion and set about building another funeral pyre. so soon after the last. she works with aggrieved purpose, taking her axe to the very homestead she'd helped ragnar build, which was, she can now remember, lost to a fire so long ago.

as the house comes apart, she stacks the wood high, to ensure that the pillar of smoke and thus her daughter's soul will reach her gods on a more permanent basis this time. all the while, she entrusts robin to stay with her daughter's body, a silent show of a deep trust this experience has created in her. she is grateful for his presence. were she alone, this loss would drive her mad.

when the pyre is done and she has made a crown of wildflowers to place upon the child's head, she gently lifts the body, pausing long enough to nod to her companion. yes, he could join her in saying goodbye. the last thing she wished in this world was to be alone. gyda's body is placed upon the pyre, but this time she does not light it herself. instead, as she can finally feel tears rise in her eyes again, she hands the torch to the man at her side, so that he might. her throat is so knotted and dry that she can't even speak. but her intent is clear. ]

[ When Marian died, Robin initially took comfort in the prayers uttered for her passing, but as his grief continued unabated, it was difficult to find comfort in what felt like hollow words. He certainly wanted her spirit to be in a peaceful place, wherever she was, but he was angry and heartbroken that she wasn't with him, and those prayers eventually lost their meaning for quite a while.

But that time has passed, and he's grown stronger because of it. His heart is more resilient, and in a strange way, he feels he's more hopeful and open to second chances now that he's seen it's entirely possible.

He can only hope that his companion finds the same peace, as time goes on, and if he can help her in that regard at all, he certainly intends to.

Remaining reverent as he reaches the ritual, Robin nods once as he takes the torch, bending down to light the pyre, then standing back. He murmurs a few soft prayers under his breath, wishing her spirit protection and love, and to find a way back to her mother when their spirits are destined to meet again. ]

[ for what seems like time unending, lagertha watches the body of her daughter's doppelgänger is slowly consumed by the flames of the pyre. stone-faced and silent, what she is feeling may have remained a mystery if not for the lone tear which tracks down her right cheek. to her, it does not matter if this was really her daughter or not. the likeness had been incredible. and for just the briefest of moments, she had actually thought that she'd had her family back.

her son, her daughter... and perhaps her husband, too. with a clearer mind now, she can remember how he has turned his back upon her for the sake of more children. but for bjorn, she is alone in this world and every other. or is she? there is a friend at her side now, a steadfast companion she had not expected to find. lagertha is glad that he is here to share this with her, and that she is not alone. as alone as she had been when she'd first lost her daughter. ]

When she was very young, she would run everywhere. Faster than one of Thor's bolts of lightning. She grew into a quiet child, though. Such stillness there was in her.

It would not have been long before I would have had to relinquish her to adulthood.

[ she cannot share these things with ragnar. he has his sons now, and all she has are memories. ]

[ As his eyes linger on the pyre before them, Robin can't help but let his thoughts drift to his son, thinking of how much he longs to hold his sweet boy in his arms, to hear his voice, to see him smile. He wonders how many days he'll be condemned to endure on this ship, so far away from him.

Watching the flames dance before him, he feels utterly heartbroken for his companion. It's a pain that only another parent can understand. ]

She would have been a strong woman, with you as her mother.

[ He hopes his words don't offend, and he wonders if he should even say anything like that; it prolongs the conversation about her daughter, and maybe she would prefer that not happen at all. ]

[ lagertha had once stood in this position before the whole of the village, and watched alone until the flames had turned the body of her only daughter into nothing but ash. now, she does not need to worry about keeping up a strong appearance. this man who has chosen to stay already knows that. this time she is able to trust in that. he must be thinking of his own little boy now, and while her heart is broken, it somehow still manages to suffer a pang or two of empathy.

she takes a long, shaky inhale of air, and nods. ]

That is kind of you to say. I think she might have been stronger than me. She was wiser at twelve than I am now.

[ which partly bespeaks of her skill as a mother, to have raised her so well. but also of her daughter's incredible fortitude. speaking of her does her heart easier. keeping the memories bottled because ragnar had chosen to grieve alone had been a terrible burden.

this time, she does not feel as though she is alone. for that reason, she hesitantly reaches over to quietly take her companion's hand. he can let go as he likes, her grasp is loose. ]

I think our children are always wiser and stronger than us, thankfully for them. They learn from us, from what we could have done, or wished we had done.

[ That's not to say he thinks himself a terrible father, or a father who would eventually have many regrets. But he thinks part of the point in life is to always learn and grow, and to hope that their children thrive and do better in ways he couldn't even begin to fathom. ]

We do our best.

[ It's clear to him that she loves her children very much, and that's all anyone can truly ask; that a parent should love their child unconditionally, and do anything possible to care for them, keep them safe.

He's not expecting the touch, but he looks down, and with a warm smile, squeezes her hand in return, hoping to imbue her being with some of his own strength. ]

Yes. And I also let them make their own mistakes. Bjorn in particular has learned well from the scrapes he has gotten into.

( nor is she saying she is or was a terrible mother. what she hopes is that what she has taught him is enough that he knows wrong from right, and is able to make his own decisions now without her holding his hand. but of course, it's different with bjorn because he's half-grown. he already has his arm-ring. eventually, she will have to let go.

once she finds him, she can concern herself with that process. maybe it's a bit selfish, but she's glad that he changed his mind and left with her. she'd been prepared to go into the unknown alone, but she depends on his company a great deal. it's too bad he's being kept from her, somewhere. she nods quietly, willing herself not to let her guard down any further. she still has her pride. )

It's all we can do. And hope they make good decisions once they've learned all we have to teach them.

( lagertha sighs, letting the sight of the fire before her transfix her until the acrid smoke burns her eyes. it doesn't matter. she won't look away until this body is reduced to ash. then she will know that it's gone, whatever it was. and that it's left her daughter's spirit alone to watch over her.

honestly, she hadn't expected him to allow it. it's not always easy, leaning on others. but it does help a little, and though she doesn't look at him, she squeezes his hand back. thank you, is what the gesture says. )

My son is not yet at an age where he makes a considerable amount of mistakes that...mean much of anything.

[ At Roland's age, his mistakes just tend to be not listening to his father and wandering off, which certainly has consequences, but isn't generally life-altering. ]

I hope I've raised him well enough that he'll gain wisdom from the mistakes he does eventually make.

[ Especially since she initiated the touch, Robin doesn't intend to let go until she indicates she's ready. He can easily see that she needs this, and wouldn't dare pull away until she feels ready.

Then again, who could ever be ready for the sight before them now? ]

Of course. But he will be Bjorn's age in what will feel like the blink of an eye. Time truly passes quickly. Cherish each moment. They are all precious.

( one never knows what kind of trial the gods might throw at them. she had been unprepared, despite the seer's warning for the loss of her daughter. )

It may pass quickly, but you do still have time. Trust yourself enough to know you're teaching him as well as you're able.

( she isn't ready until the flames reduce the entire pyre and its contents to dust and fragments of bone. lagertha will stand here, still as a statue until it does. which takes what feels like hours but in reality may only be half an hour at the maximum. the funeral pyre of a viking burns much hotter than modern methods of cremation can. thankfully.

because despite herself, she has no wish to remain. she releases a shaky breath once it's done, and whispers a prayer softly in norse. only then does she let go of his hand, not wanting to overstay her welcome, as it were. )

I do try. I'm mindful that time will soon pass far more quickly than I would like.

I wish for both our sakes that our children were here with us. Even with the madness that's taken hold of this ship, I would prefer my son to be in my sight, to know where he is.

[ Once their hands are no longer held together, he rests both of his in front of him, casting his gaze to the homestead, then elsewhere. It's been such a trying time, not just for him, but everyone. And a part of him doesn't want to leave this place for the moment, because he doesn't know what else will happen, and if he'll survive. Yet there are other people he cares about, and wants to be sure are safe, so it's not a rational thought at all. ]

I suppose we should try to make our way back eventually.

I feel the same. At least if Bjorn were with me, I would know that he is safe. But if he were as young as your boy, I would prefer it even more. Others can say what they will, but they are safest with us than without.

( lagertha's reaction is slow, as she turns to look at him. her eyes are dull and haunted in the flickering light provided by the dying embers before them. she is tired, and doesn't know where to go. anywhere but here, but also definitely not back into that trip through hel.

she forces herself to stand straighter, and momentarily cast off the burden of her grief. there will be more than time enough for that later. )

Eventually?

I couldn't agree with that sentiment more.

[ It makes him wonder for a moment how many other parents are onboard this ship. He knows of Regina and Emma, of course, since they share Henry together. But of all the other people he's met, he's not sure if they have children. He assumes such a topic would come up, but if some of those people have been trapped here for quite a long time, perhaps it's easier not to speak of their children. ]

I worry about the trouble awaiting us, though I imagine you don't want to linger here.

There are many who do not. But there will never be a day where I'll just wake up and hope he's safe. I need to know.

( undoubtedly there are several; she would never deign to say that there must be none simply because some insist that she give up on this "vain" hope that her son might be here. though she wonders how they can wake up every day and function properly without knowing that their children are safe for a certainty. do they just hope for the best? do they pray? she prays to her gods; were there animals here and food not nearly so scarce as it is, she might sacrifice one as an offering to odin and freya to ensure it.

but she can't, and so all she can do is persevere and keep looking for him. until the day she drops, either from exhaustion or because she is dead. she closes her eyes, and turns away from both the pyra and the homestead. there is nothing for her here. but if he wants to stay, she won't leave him. )

I won't force you to leave if you are uncomfortable doing so just yet. It is up to you.

[ Robin is less vocal than some, perhaps, about finding his son. He won't stop hoping that he'll see him again soon, either here or because he's been returned to Storybrooke. Though right now, he's grateful that his son is somewhere safe, far away from the horrors plaguing the ship at the moment.

There isn't a single morning he doesn't wake up and wish that Roland's face were there to greet him. Not a single evening passes without him longing to hold his son and tell him stories as drifts to sleep. But if he lets himself feel the depth of that pain, he'll drown in it.

He doesn't answer her at first, giving himself time to think. ]

We should go, m'lady. All that's left here is sorrow to burden the heart.

( life has not spared any of her children from its horrors. but the world she lives in is far and away from being anything like robin's or what anyone else here would find familiar. ~~except the time travelers.~~ were bjorn merely four years old, she would be glad that he were not present to suffer this. but he is older now and determined to be a warrior someday. and the warriors among her people see suffering with every raid they embark upon. they are not immune to it, even if they might emerge victorious.

though she is glad that one way or another, she has not had to bear this particular pain alone for a second time. for as long as she lives after they leave this place, she will never forget neither his bravery nor his kindness. he is a good man, and a good friend.

and she closes her eyes, as once again he accommodates her discomfort. )

Thank you.

( it is the entire sum of what she intends to say, but it is soft-spoken and honest and far more than enough. she glances backward, to the lane leading away from the farmstead, by which he had originally arrived. there. they can follow this path and be quit of this place. she starts off, having forgotten whether or not she has let go of his hand. if she hasn't, well. she will lead him away from this place, and rely on his strength until she might somehow recoup some of her own. )

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EVENT: MELPOMENE ▒ HOME

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