FAST MOVING , COLORFUL SNIPPETS THAT ONCE BELONGED TO HER now feel like the memories of a stranger. well, almost memories — flashes of what once was her life playback in her mind every now and then, leaving more questions than answers as she tries to figure out who she used to be. each year that passes giving her another clue to try to place the pieces of the broken puzzle. a scent, a voice, a smell, a sight - all different things that seem to trigger something new. the newest recollected morsel coming from the hues painted over the sky that emerald eyes can’t drift away from.
the fading light hiding behind strokes of gold, orange, and yellow being something that feels so terribly familiar. she knows she’s seen in before in a much colder place, she just can’t remember where. it’s for that reason that the biology textbook is resting on her lap, focus on dna mutation long forgotten as the sun hitting the horizon caught her attention. a delicate hand placed atop of the open book as if to hold her pace, though if anything, she looks like still life in the flesh, frozen in time. one that if you blink and you’ll miss the fact that the blonde’s still breathing.
at a distance, she looks like a painting of sorts: red and white picnic table under her to guard her from the itchiness of the bright green blades, legs cross to the side as one knee stacks over the other, floral sundress extending out onto the picnic blanket as strands of wavy blonde hair fall out of a loose braid, one hand rests on the book as the other drops to her side, head tilting in curiosity as emerald gaze is glued onto the sky with pink lips are only slighted parted. her expression almost in a trance as she’s spent the last fifteen minutes looking at the sky. first, in admiration of the beautiful colors. then, as the faint memory threatens to surface, in confusion and curiosity. almost as if the sky holds the key to at least a fragment of an answer.
it’s as if she’s in a trace with her sole focus being on getting the faint picture of what she knows is an unlocked memory to become a little brighter, to provide her with another missing piece of the puzzle. logic being something that the blonde prides herself on having, every decision made with reason and every movement being one approached with caution. at least that holds true in every situation except for this one. the actions to follow being ones freya doesn’t even register she’s doing until it’s too late though if you were to ask her, she’d say she’s in control the entire time. which, to a certain extent, she is. she’s done it enough to know when to call it good, though that doesn’t make it any less dangerous, much less stupid for that matter.
emerald gaze finally drifts from the sky as it shifts to the lake beside freya. her favorite little outdoor nook on campus, far away from the bustle and hustle from everyday life. she’s at the edge of the lake, far enough to not be seen or heard from the rest of the world, but close enough that it only takes her a few minutes to get there every time. at a distance, she echos of laughter from her peers. though, it’s a sound that soon fades out as the blonde finds herself standing at the corner of the lake. calms waters that lay still soon turn to solid as freya’s hands outstretch, the temperature surrounding her dropping as her reflection disappears as liquid turns to ice.
sandals coming off as bare feet step onto the ice, the cold solid welcoming her with each steps she takes onto the ice. hands still outstretched as she goes into the lake a little more, causing the water to keep descending in degrees as a layer of ice starts to appear before her. once she’s covered the lake with enough ice, she stands in the center of the sheet of ice before her solid matter behind her starts to crack. her focus narrowing to the small spot of ice that starts breaking away until the icy waters appear again under the ice - just enough of a space for her to slip under.
foolishness really taking over by now as she prepares to do what she’s done a handful of times before: attempt to trigger more memories. a deep inhale follows an exhale as she prepares for a moment. eyes finally close as she inhales deeply once again told her breath before letting herself fall into the chilly water. the cold embrace welcoming her with open arms as she just lets it be for a moment. eyes still closed in attempts the cold current will help her remember something .. anything.always a long shot and always a stupid decision but the helpless hope about putting herself in that situation again being the possible key to unlocking what really happened that day.
always a futile mission that lasts only a few minutes before she knows she has to come up for air. always cutting it a second too soon as she waits to find her way back to the surface when she can feel herself needing to breathe again. eyes finally opening once again as she feels her heart pounding against her chest, begging for air. lips parting just a centimeter as tiny bubbles float up in front of her. for such a potentially dangerous decision, she’s stupidly calm. perhaps the annoying answer as to why no matter how many times she finds herself near the point of point, she still can’t remember anything.
unfortunately, the irony of the situation escapes her which is perhaps why she doesn’t realize why she fails every time. despite her actions being incredibly dumb, freya still holds a good amount of control in what she’s doing. every move being a calculated one, something she doesn’t realize keeps holding her back. as she pushes against the water, following the small light toward the space she jumped through moments ago, she know she’s failed again. failing to realize that maybe the only way she’ll ever trigger the memory of when she fell through the ice, is if she stops controlling when and how she keeps reenacting the things of the past.
In the mortal and naive world, many people would argue that time is a concept– not only an intangible concept, but one hand-crafted by their very own foolish hands as a tool to keep track of their happenings. Nicolai knows better, for it was the sky and the earth that gave birth to time... and time, he was born fierce and ruthless. A titan, they called him, Kronos and time, one and the same as he ruled over the earth once and tried to do it again not so long ago. Not a concept and certainly not an intangible thing, though he might as well be in a state of millions of particles scattered across the universe by the power of a prophetic blade. Many forgot, but Nicolai made it a point never to do so– even if it’s been well over ten years. Because in moments like this, when the birds’ song stopped and the sun bathed his skin in an eternal golden light, when the atmosphere around him became surreal and the particles in the air froze... when his heartbeat slowed down and the thoughts in his mind did the opposite of such, Nicolai remembered time, remembered its power and might and imagined the particles of his being gather around, expecting a vow. Nicolai obeyed, small but firm.
It could’ve been minutes or hours since he last saw her dark hair blend into the lake’s water, since he last saw her disappear into the vast white of her own creation... but the world didn’t seem to take notice of what the hour dictated. It paused, waited for their dark master’s command to resume. Regardless of the hour and minute indicated by the white gold watch, Nicolai doesn’t move. Not a muscle.
He’s known her for a long time, Freya. So long he can barely remember a time before she walked into the ice castle he resided in and took a seat on the table, never to leave again. He’s hated her, resented her and even once, tried to love her... but despite them being the soul in each other’s life that knows the other one best, she’s never stopped being a stranger for the man. A stranger who wears his last name and his godly descent. And yet, for the life of Nicolai, he can’t understand the scene unfolding before him. A perfect princess, or at least that’s what they say, for they have never noticed that smile falter, never understood the pain that lies before those glinting eyes. He breathes for what feels like 5 minutes but might as well have been three, eyes glued to the perfect circle carved against the icy sheet. He stares and waits and thinks because he knows there’s something wrong, something screaming at him from the pits of the earth to see, to notice, to understand. Because even though Nicolai knows Freya’s every smile and tick and tone, he doesn’t know this version of the girl he calls sister and twin before the world’s watching eyes. A perfect princess would never jump into icy waters unless it was for some charity stunt, a perfect princess would never freeze over a section of the lake unless it was so orphan children could have a bit of fun on an unforgiving summer. And yet this perfect princess never did anything that wasn’t painstakingly calculated, just as his father’s teachings dictated. She wouldn’t because he wouldn’t... and because she rarely ever let that princess layer fall.
A fall it did for seconds– minutes perhaps. There’s a tension in the air as Nicolai finally takes a step. His feet touch the lake and as a fool’s messiah, he walks through thick sheets of ice, willing them into existence with little effort or thought under his shoes and he nears and nears the perfect circle. The tension only grows, it’s almost palpable to his touch as he crossed the lake and it’s still water and her own sheets of thin ice– ice cracking before solidifying under his weight, the only sound accompanying the journey. He’s stopped consciously counting, though a part of him on the very back of his mind keeps the timer running– or at least whatever track of time it can keep in this seemingly endless stated of a pause, forever waiting for either of them to act. To emerge or submerge... or to decide not to do either.
He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it since her body immersed itself into the darkness and Nicolai... he only lies when in front of an unsophisticated crowd. The thought occurred to him the second she hit the water and hasn’t left his mind since– forever debating the move on the board, practicing and practicing, not only for the possibility for the black king in their ancient chessboard not to tip over... but for the other players and their own contributions in the larger board. Because if she drowned– oh if she drowned much would happen, much would change. First he’d have to construct the grieving brother act for all and pray for the gods to indeed be gazing at the sunset and not at them as he stands and the other one drowns in the icy lake. Perhaps Kronos, with his remaining golden power would shield him for just now, give him this one gift to have him indebted to him whenever the particles came together and back from the pits of hell.... perhaps his mother wouldn’t mind too– seeing Freya’s unfortunate mistake as a clear sign of weakness and a delt-with impurity in the bloodline. Yes the gods may be forgiving... but it’s the mortal world he’d have to worry about then. A mortal world he’s climbed his way on top off but could very well be thrown to the bottom if his father decided to pin the precious adopted pet of his as a mistake of the brother who was supposed to watch over. And from then... it all came down to that, did it not? His failure to save her. His failure to be the hero he was born, trained and destined to be.... all hopes turned to unforgiving disappointment.
Nicolai stands only a couple of meters away from the hole– from which, nothing has yet to surface from. What is she doing, what is she doing, what is she doing?– cries his brain as the ice seems spread into the circle bit by bit... his doing surely as eyes burn into the one spot. What is she planning? A thin layer covers the water soon, small crystals shinning against the sunlight. Nicolai takes another deep breath, centers his gaze on the gleaming ice and clenches both jaw and fists. If he could not let her die, then he might as well be the hero, no? Knight in shinning armor coming to the rescue and having her owing him her life... though he doubted he’d actually acknowledge the debt or even see it as a heroic act. He’s not doing it for her, that, he’s quite sure of as the ice cracks before him with a thought and a gust of strong and icy air comes down from the heavens and slams into the body of water. Quite a spectacle unfolds as he lifts himself from the ice and lets the air spot the body now moving under the water. As if it was a giant fist of his own, he wills the air to circle her body and pull her up into the surface and into the lake’s edge with a bit of a thump. Soaking body on the ground, Nicolai sets himself down, once again securing the ice below him and nods her way, “What the fuck, Freya?”
