{ --of aesir brightest }

mostly-myth Heimdall | all verses | 18+ | links

[himinbjorg]

Something about the way that Heimdall explains himself makes her soften a bit, if only a little bit. She can’t hold too much against him - even this separation, she can’t truly hold against him. Especially if he will always be seeking her. It seems like Ati now has a reason to explore Terra a little more regularly. If only in the hope of seeing him again.

“..Hm. I do find a little comfort in that. I really do.“ For as sharp as her voice had been before, there is a softness, a melancholic willingness to understand. It had been inevitable before - but.. it’s different. It’s different when one is aware that they’ll always be seeking each other out more than likely.

The talk of time not passing the same, it rings true. It rings true in a way that has to give her some kind of bittersweet hope. If only in the way that she has been aware that she has been around so long, it shouldn’t be too long before she finds him again. It still hurts though. It still leaves a pang in her dark core.

“…I do believe you. I believe you all too much.“

She manages the slightest little smile. It doesn’t last much before she’s kissed, hard. So hard in the way that she needed.  She wraps her hands around him, kissing him as deeply as possible. Ati feels the need to melt into him for a little bit longer, for as much as she can.

He knows he cannot reassure her entirely; the grief would have its day, as it demanded, and the wound would take its time to heal. It would be the same with him, as he adjusted to his new life, and a new kind of loneliness. But he believed in them, in their union, with the same bright-hearted fervour as mortals believed in their gods and saviours -- with more fervour, perhaps, since he knew the limitless potential for possibility in these boundless cosmos.

And, best of all, he knew himself. He had never been one to take anything lightly or frivolously, sometimes to his detriment. Their time together had changed him, fundamentally, and he intended to embrace that change as fiercely as he now embraced the catalyst of it.

And... she believed him. She chose to trust him, even in this. Of course, he’d never given her cause to think him deceitful or full of shit, but... still, the relief is palpable.

The warmth he’d felt quickly deepens into heat as she kisses him back, and he knows without a doubt that if there’s one last thing he wants to take from his time in Himinbjörg, it’s the feeling of her body tight against his, the feeling of wanting to be as close as possible, striving for the singular transcendent moment when they would be as one. One of his hands slips into her hair, cradling her head as they kiss, and the other traces a hungry course down the side of her body, curving around her thigh and squeezing.

[himinbjorg]

It almost hurt too much for her hand to rest against his cheek- and yet there it was once more. Lifted by the very one who was causing this separation in the first place. The hollowness within Atieno threatened to suck her back into the loneliness that plagued her so. Daring her to jet off so she could get to the work of recovering.

But she dares not leave. Not yet, she must hear Heimdall out for everything she can. “Hah.” Her laugh is dark, dry, tinged with sadness. “At least you know what’s like now. I wonder - how much satisfaction that gives you to have that experience.” Is that experience worth the pain caused? She couldn’t bare saying that, knowing full well that it was likely worth the risks that he would be taking.

“For this moment? I need you close to me. I need that. I need your touch, I need your kiss. I know you must go. But I need your presence while you are mine.“It was hard to bear the thought of not being able to return to him from time to time. And frankly, all she was thinking about was putting it off for a little bit longer. A bit of selfishness of her own.

Heimdall had been in battle and fallen, many times. Some of it he even remembered. He’d been run through with spears, shot at point-blank range, jettisoned into the crushing void of space, dismembered alive... Somehow, the harsh edge to her voice competed with all of those. Worst of all, he knew he’d remember it, more than he remembered the many times he’s died, for a long time.

“It gives me-- not satisfaction, but...” He cannot find a word to fill the space, so he elaborates instead. “Wherever I am, whoever I am, I will be searching for you, and because I am what I am, I will find you. Mortality cannot take that away from me. You cannot truly lose me. If you were to walk Midgard, no matter your guise, I... I will know you.”

It frustrates him, his inability to convey this conviction in a way that it could be truly understood. He is not the poet-- had never been the poet. He is remote, and quiet, and inscrutable, and sometimes astute. (Or, so he had been, until now.) All-Father was the poet. The one who hung himself from boughs just to know -- what it felt like to die just as one knows one is alive, and then fight for life; all while knowing he will only die again, and again. Because he can, because he must. 

This was a form of dying just as one knows one is alive, too.

<No wonder All-Father was a little mad.>

“Nothing is forever, elskan. And time is strange, and may not even pass in the same way down there as it does up here. We have lived long enough to know this. In time, we will be here again. And in the end... in the end, I am always yours. Do you believe me?”

He has exhausted his words, and is overwhelmed by the emotional storm within him besides. Perhaps had he been used to it, to feeling like this, it would have been different... but like an infant who has just felt the pain of separation and regards the loss as akin to dying, the intensity of it all is beyond measure.

You dumb besotted fool. It will be so much worse when she’s gone.

Heimdall shuts his brimming eyes against this thought and kisses Atieno, hard.

[seamlessoo]

The Hitchhiker

[himinbjorg]

Atieno listens in understanding, knowing full well what it means for him to move on - to try live once more as a mortal. To have to leave and frankly, it does leave a weirdly hollow feeling in her. There’s a certainly inevitability that she knew was likely to happen for some circumstance or another. It’s not surprising but it does leave her back to her own devices. It hurts more than she cares to admit at the moment.

“As loathe as I am for this moment, I do understand it - and I do understand that you need to give it all up to go to Midgard and be among them. And as always, you may not know of me but I have a way of being around in some capacity. I will miss you dearly, that I know for sure.“ Her voice is calm but the vast hollowness that seems to grow with every moment comes through. The things she does to respect autonomy, it’s the very least that she could do.

He can tell she is wounded, and the pain echoes in him, magnified by the fact that it is shared, and the fact that he has caused it to begin with. The sorrow is like a stone in the center of his body, giving him a... solidity, a certain weight of being that he often considered a hallmark of mortality: the acute and everpresent knowledge of loss.

This is how it would be all the time, once he descended.

“You have brought me joy beyond measure, and in return I cause you pain,” he sighs ruefully, raising one of her hands to his face so it rested against his cheek. “I did not intend this. But-- if you’ll forgive me even further selfishness... now, I finally know what it is like to be so dear to someone as to be missed when I am gone from them.”

He turns his head just enough to press a kiss to her palm, his vision blurring. He closes his eyes briefly. “For this moment, for as long as you like, I am yours. I will do anything you ask.”

He meant what he said. It didn’t matter if she asked him to take off his clothes and do a handstand on the Bifröst, he’d do it just to see her laugh. Even if she went as far as to implore him to stay, he would not think to refuse her. For once, he felt a compulsion that came from beyond his own lonely path.

[himinbjorg]

It does make Atieno wonder when Heimdall gives a certain sigh. Certainly there has been so much among the mind and she is only too eager to find out what exactly it has been.

“Hm. Becoming mortal huh?“ She thinks for a moment before giving a small nod, understanding a certain appeal to it. “Oh I’m sure there’s much adventure to be had as a mortal - at least, there’s the potential for it that is. But being here for so long - it does make you restless in a way. That I can understand on a very deep level. “

“It seems beyond time that you have some chance to be away from here.  Being in one place is almost certainly the fastest way to drive one into quite the dangerous state. “

Her astute words make him smile, relieved at being understood.

“Sometimes I think I do not have a choice in these things. That I, as all created things, move to the rhythm of the spheres with... only slightly more elegance to my dance than that of less permanent creations. That eventually, as a bird leaves the nest, I too must leap from the place in which I was set, in order to evolve.”

He leaves his place to sit beside her, his expression searching as he reaches for her hands. “But of all that I must give up, if I am to take this journey, I am most loath to give up... this. You, and the anticipation of your presence, and the knowledge of your vastness and beauty.”

Had it not been for this, he would have departed as quietly and suddenly as he had when he’d first walked Midgard, in a time eons before current mortal reckoning. Despite his allegiance with the Aesir, his sense of obligation to them had always been a forced thing, a moral choice. He knew they’d survive without him, and if they did have need or want of him, they’d make their wishes known under no uncertain terms. He could only use them as an excuse to stay for so long-- but Atieno was not an excuse or an obligation.

[himinbjorg]

*reappears from outta nowhere*

shenanigans in... uh, whatever my life is... have made this version of Heimdall feel like an unshed snakeskin that I need to irritably shake off

I mean I love this version, obviously, but he’s just... obsolete

it’s like leaving home, finding yourself, and then coming back home for holidays and everyone treats you like the sheltered version of yourself that they’re used to

anyway my point is... no point! haha! y’all know me (or not), at some point suddenly I’ll just come back here and flip the whole script on you and you won’t know what to do about it, because fuck stagnation

*disappears again*

[himinbjorg]

She can’t help but smile, the memories of those names being deemed on her coming back. At the time, Atieno had found such titles a little peculiar, for what was she but a force - albeit quite a powerful and necessary one within the university. Over time though, she had grown attached and intrigued by the way beings had a way of building her legend.

And to see such reminders spoken back to her was satisfying.”Heh. If nothing else, there’s definitely material to build from.” She sips her drink - amused and gives a sly smile in return.

“Hm, indeed it seems like you are. And if it helps any, I tend to enjoy when you’re a little on the loose-tongued side. It’s fun to see what you’re capable of saying, getting a little bit into what you’ve been thinking.“ Her eyes show a teasing mirth, a curiosity that tends to tempt those cause within that gaze.

He watches the stars dance in her eyes and smiles faintly, his teeth nipping thoughtfully at the inside of his lip. Their last time together had scarcely left his consciousness, even as it was preoccupied with other things -- time-unbound as he was, he could relive it as if it had just happened, or put it far far away from him, if he chose. --Not that he would, even if frequent contemplation of it left him a little... distracted.

Would it still feel that way if I--?

The thought comes unbidden, and he breaks their eye contact with a troubled sigh. He is finding it more and more difficult to put it out of his mind. He does not wish to be rash or hasty, but the feverish excitement that races through him when he considers it is... tempting. Mortals tend to follow such excitement to their deaths or damn-near -- it is that level of daring.

“Lest you think me inattentive, I must confess something to you,” Heimdall sighs, raising his eyes to Atieno’s again. “I am thinking of-- nay, I am obsessed with the thought of leaving. Of becoming mortal-- or feigning mortality, if the other is not possible. I don’t know why. It is... foolish, to the highest degree, and surely it should not seem so attractive...

But I have just been here, just here, for so long.”

[himinbjorg]

Atieno gives a slight nod in agreement when Heimdall notes the skill that mortals have for storytelling. It was an ability that she had found herself incredibly fond of and grateful that it seemed to be common to a wide variety of mortals. Made studying the variations in storytelling all the more fascinating. One would be foolish to think she hadn’t picked up traits from here or another place to blend in what attempts she made.

“Hm, they do have an incredible talent for it. I can’t quite give them enough credit for it. Especially when they are capable into calling such beings as your self into awareness. It’s a solid question to have - one that may not ever really have an answer.“

She sympathizes with his admission about not acting so hastily. It’s not surprising that he might have had a few regrets about making them forget. “It’s nice that they haven’t forgotten you entirely. There’s still hope for you yet. That I’d like to be certain of.”  Some things had a way of coming back into focus over the years and certainly it’s possible that Heimdall might be one those whose story would resurface.

She smiles a little wistfully when he asks, a sign that she had seen a few things in her time. “Oh they do tell interesting stories. It depends on how much they see of me. I do get the creator of worlds, weaver of the skies. One who will not be contained, that’s one I get when people try me all to no avail. I’ve seen some markings and places set up to admiring my work. So you can imagine the kind of reaction when they see my presence among the constructions. It’s fascinating to say the least.”

There’s still hope for you yet. Perhaps, at that; worship of the Aesir and their associated entities rose and fell with the passage of time, with the rise and fall of civilisations, and there would always be scholars who delve into history to find the gems buried by the rubble of empires.

Heimdall had taken his main body of myth from them, but he couldn’t prevent them from rebuilding it. In fact, the empty space he’d left only made them more intrigued. You can’t make something from nothing was a favoured cliché of theirs, except they did it all the time, because to be content with ‘nothing’ was unfathomable to them.

“One who will not be contained,” Heimdall repeats, his smile widening. “Yes. A worthy kenning. Atieno the Unbound, the Unfettered. Eye of Galaxies, Heart of Darkness, Void-Shaper, Lone Wanderer of Infinity’s Highway... and Infinity’s Bridges, even.”

He eyes his drink speculatively. “Tch. If only this were the mead of poetry, and not simply the mead of making Heimdall loose-tongued and foolish. I only mean to say... it seems I am in good company in my delight at your existence.”

[divine-consciousness]

[sketchysketchiness]

Norse Guardian of the Gods: Heimdall.  

[rustandruin]

Art.

[qvicksilversass]

“Asgard…she’s here…”

[saigarth]

on that note, I don’t interact with my actual rp dash much anymore because it’s just overwhelming and like, it’s hard to get to know people through just the dashboard (chat threads in forum rps were a godsend for getting to know and befriend rpers) B U T my inbox is always open (got discord, too) so yanno, hit me up if you like what you see *waggles eyebrows*

[xxdovelin]

by Alexxander Dovelin, reference indikos

[himinbjorg]

“Fair enough. And you..you make for quite the wonderful observer. All the better to show you then.“ She returns with a mischief in her own expression. Although she is looking forward to the food, something about sharing this with Heimdall makes the whole experiences especially delightful.

She slowly begins, taking bites from here and there. Mixing the different foods together to see how the flavors mix together. It is a delightful combination that still feels so peculiarly warm and welcoming. A pause at the request for a story.

Ati sips on her mead as she thinks for a moment. Surely, she always has something to tell. “Well, something wonderful. That doesn’t narrow things down at all.” A little laugh at the thought. “I did enjoy the site off in the quieter edges of the galaxy, I did see a few stars form around each other. Sometimes there’s the process of stars that are coupled in a way. And seeing them develop in such a matter and causing them to pair up - was most fascinating.

Further - seeing being’s reaction to that discovery is satisfying. A little while later I happened to be visiting a planet that was in sight of those couple of stars. And those who existed there couldn’t resist speculating on the meaning and the suggestion of the stars coming together. It’s ..it’s wonderful to witness the lore building off of something you know full well you had a hand in. Terribly satisfying, I have to admit.”

Twin stars, dancing, one learning of itself through the development of its partner. Heimdall imagines it, eating thoughtfully, his molten-gold eyes soft and contemplative. Odin and Loki had been twin stars, among others; sharing the same cosmic material, burning with the same light, singing the same song in different tongues, always in sometimes-inscrutable but always-inalienable harmony.

Heimdall smiles fondly at the mention of sentient life making stories of the stars -- an even more familiar tale. “Mortals tell such lovely and intricate stories. I am often unsure if I would even exist in this capacity if it weren’t for Midgardians seeing me and calling me into self-awareness with verse and magic and will.” Not all immortals appreciated it -- some took umbrage with the nature of their mortal-woven shapes, for example -- but nearly all of the Aesir and associated beings followed Odin’s example in taking great amusement in being deified, and actively engaged in Midgardians’ search for meaning through them.

“I sometimes wish I had not acted so hastily in making Midgardians forget most of what they knew of me. I don’t know what came over me. But... they have not entirely forgotten, I think, so perhaps they will tell new stories of me.” He hadn’t anticipated how lonely it would be, or how much he would miss the quickening of energy within him whenever he heard the names they had given him, spoken by beings who chose to dedicate part of their painfully short lives to loving him and his kin.

“Do they tell stories of you, too? The Mother of Galaxies, She Who Walks Between the Stars?” He smiles again, thinking of how lovely a mythology that could be.

[kristenplescow]

Old vs. New. (May 2007 vs. Oct 2012)

Belias from Final Fantasy Tactics.

[himinbjorg]

Atieno took so much pleasure in the way she was able to settle into the place, this time easier than before. It seemed to be a natural pattern that came with her visits. Not that she would ever complain about such a pleasant re-occurrence.

“Oh of course not. Thankfully, I have more time to savor whenever I get to enjoy.“ She replied with a smile, appreciative of the fact that food is even a thing. Oh how the mortals had a way with finding interesting things in their existence.

The smell of the food is the first to reach her, and already it has her delighted in the possibilities. Atieno always did enjoy the smell of freshly prepared food, that alone had filled her with an anticipation that she couldn’t resist.

When the dish comes to be in front of her, she smiles at Heimdall, grateful for such delights. “I can’t thank you enough really.” And slowly she starts to uncover the dish, letting the auras and appearance of the food take the attention.

And a delightful arrangement of food it was. “Oh.. I am so going to enjoy eating this.” It was obvious from the way she gazed at the food, that it had struck her fancy in all the right ways.

“Don’t thank me. This is a wholly selfish endeavour. I like to watch you enjoy things.” Heimdall smiles, a hint of impishness in the expression, and settles in across from her -- the better to see her, of course. Delight sparkles in her eyes as she looks upon what she’s uncovered, and the smallest knot of tension in Heimdall’s body eases.

There is symbolism here, in the offering of lamb’s meat particularly, simply because it amuses him. He’d become accustomed to communicating with Midgardians through symbols and signs and portents, using them as a way for the humans to understand him, and he never quite lost the tendency. It suits him, anyway. Sometimes directness is overrated, and certainly not as fun. -- He thinks that may be a sentiment he picked up from Odin.

“Tell me a story, elskan,” Heimdall says, chasing a forkful of salad with a swig of mead, the complex interplay of flavours a riot on his tongue. “Tell me of something wonderful you have seen. Let me see the universes through your eyes for a moment.”