there's hell within

A home of ice, a home of fire A spark that ignites it all But I won't fly higher I'm afraid to fall

[nordvei]

Silence. Oh how he wishes for it. It would be so peaceful, and it would be safe. It would not scream at him, it could not. And then, even that would be preferable to this laughter in his mind. The mocking laugh that tells him just how weak he is, how incapable of keeping his family, or even himself, together. He has failed, it tells him. And he will always fail. 

It hurts, but that is a good thing, because it helps him focus on something other than his current problem. Hopefully current, because he needs it to end. So, current. He won’t name it anything else. 

There’s something that mingles into the laughter, a call of his name, and he tenses, the last piece digging into his skin as he digs it into the wall. Or what is left of the mirror. Or something else. He doesn’t quite know what he has hit, and for that first moment, he doesn’t care. 

Kristian blinks, breathes in, and then lets go of the shard. It has done the job he chose it for, giving him something that mutes the laughter even just a little. Pain. Pain mutes fear, pain mutes fury, pain mutes fairly many emotions. 

                                                “No, stay away.”

Hands move up to his head, to cover his ears. 

                                                “No, no, no–”

[minstebarnet]

Words. Denial. The the fear kicks back in and she runs, runs as if the devil is on the back of her feet. Chasing, reaching out for her. She can’t be captured, not now. She needs to find a safe place, for she isn’t there. Never again. She’s not safe with him, forgotten the words centuries old.  Blinded, her legs bruised and bloody, but she continues to move, out of the house, bare feet on moist ground. The earthy smell of the path seeping into her nose, mixed with repugnant copper. Blood. Laughable, but she’s injured. Her heart is breaking, aching. Wanting for so much more, needing restoration. But her mind, oh her mind is close to be gone, broken laugher sounding from chapped lips. Even there, the copper is tasted. Metallic. For centuries she had been protected. It seems to have come to an end.

[minstebarnet]

i’m in need for a denmark or something

[nordvei]

His hands twitch. They feel empty. Too empty. He has to have something in them to squeeze until it breaks, shattering like the vase had against the wall. But there’s nothing there in his immediate surroundings, nothing to break and break and break that will deafen the laughter. 

So he clenches them and punches the wall. Once. Twice. Thrice. Until it hurts. 

It’s not anywhere near silent enough, so he yells. He yells at the laughter that mocks him so.

                                                    “Shut up!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. But he already knows the laughter will continue. He can’t stop it. Not while he still stands here, with ears capable of hearing. And it infuriates him only further. He needs it to stop. Now. 

He takes the few steps towards his sister, and reaches for the few pieces left of the broken mirror. She is not touched, not noticed, not cared about in this moment. She is not there, as far as he is concerned. His sister is not there. He would know if she was there, he would protect her from the laughter, then. She would be safe. 

He needs to ensure she will be safe when she comes home. 

                                                     “Shut up.”

The shards are dropped on the ground as he whispers the words he’d before yelled out. Leaving bleeding wounds in his otherwise empty hands. Only the biggest piece gets to stay. 

[minstebarnet]

She’s scared. She’s scared of him, for him and everything in between. But she remains silent, just as he wishes her too, though it’s clear to the young woman that he doesn’t mean her. But someone. Something. Her movements begin when his fists meet the wall, just a step away from herself, flinching and hiding further into herself. 

Feeling herself closing in. Succumbing to the nothingness that is so tempting, yet... the moment he picks up already bloodied shards something is stirred within her. She may not be able to protect herself, not against him anyway, but she will try to protect what’s important to her.                                          “Stop it. Kristian, stop it!” Rarely she calls him by his chosen name, rarely so much emotion is coming from her raw throat. She didn’t scream, earlier, did she? Futile. She scrambles up, slowly, wet trails of scarlet colour dripping down her shoulder. Arms. Hands. Fingers. Drip, drip.

The sound soon doubled, soon everything breaks further. Irreparable. No.                                                         “Brother, please...” A desperate attempt to be heard. Her voice just a whisper. Surely she will always stay foolish.

[nordvei]

@minstebarnet [Cont. from here.]

                                      A heartbeat skipped. It goes unheard.                                       A sharp breath drawn in. It goes unnoticed. 

     Don’t. Don’t listen, don’t speak, don’t. He won’t. He won’t let it control him, he tells himself every day. He won’t listen to it, he won’t answer it. He won’t let it win. He can control it. And he can’t. 

     He sees nothing, not the tears and not the fear. He hears nothing, not the sound of his hand hitting her face, and not the sounds she makes trying to breathe. Trying to break free from his hold, but unable to. He neither hears or sees her at all. All he hears is screaming laughter in his head and all he sees is a mocking smile directed at him. 

     Kristians hands tighten the grip around her neck, and his anger has him squeezing harshly. He wants, no he needs, to break something. Anything. But. But… 

     The soft flesh within his hands is not enough. 

     He lets go. For a moment. Just long enough to shove her away, into the mirror hanging on the wall. The resulting sounds do not deafen the laughter. They just make it sound louder. 

     His hands clench around a vase sat on a small table by the doorway, and he throws it. Right at her. And he prays it will stop the laughing. 

                                          He prays to the most cruel Gods he can think of. 

[minstebarnet]

The pain is immediate, instant agony. Not only because of those pale hands squeezing down on her frail throat, but those unseeing eyes in front of her. Tormented. Desperate. She doesn’t know for what, but it stops her from moving altogether. Stops her from using that little strength her body has, which is nothing on his. Weak. She chooses to be so. Because she lacks the drive to hurt, the drive to hurt for survival.  Blurry. The room gets blurry, light vanishing and reappearing, endless seconds ticking by and just when she thinks she can’t bear it any more the pressure vanishes. Silence, silence, silence. Relief floods through her veins, shoulders sacking. The first sob. So she’s too late to notice him shoving her, no footing that keeps her steady. LÍneik crashes against her full-body mirror, feels it giving in. Then... it breaks.  Shards like glitter, frantic grey opened wide and fearful. Thousand little knives, stabbing, cutting, her skin holding nothing against their sharpness. It rips her apart. No pain. Nothing. Not even when she falls to the ground, her legs falling victim to bigger ones. Blood. It runs, runs, runs over her pearly white skin, assembling on the light wooden floor under her. Her heart stops. Momentarily. The vase, a present of him... so long ago, she doesn’t even flinch when it hits the blue coloured wall behind her, red dots mixing into it. Violet. Purple. How much blood can she lose? The question remains, even as she looks up to him. Silently.

Family.

Brother.

Hers.

[minstebarnet]

@hvitdronning

“I guess this calls for a toast.”

Never mind her nonchalant attitude, or her lack of a smile. Once she poured the other female a cup of coffee as well, she was invited.

[minstebarnet]

sends meme despite agitation: a moment of weakness

Your muse has been drugged with a aphrodisiac and is out of it, needing release.

It’s not as if she never thought of him having any sexual desire. She could clearly say that she knows he has some. Towards certain people, surely. That doesn’t mean that she considers herself on of those, nor does she want to be.

That though, doesn’t change the fact that she’s currently, in some very strange way, being a victim of pale hands reaching for her blouse. 

“ Egill. Hvað– “

The only thing she sees for a moment, pale skin and redness stretching over it. Warm lips on hers, demanding.

Then she bites and shoves him away from her.

“ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? ” Screeching.

[minstebarnet]

[minstebarnet]

A Moment of Weakness

14. My muse is being beat up by yours, something they did must of been the last straw.

“ What are you-- “

The slap sounds through the house with a deafening intensity, leaving deathly silence in its wake. A blink. Two. Eyes, previously so trusting ( a wonder in itself), fill with tears quickly. Overflowing. But there is no time to say something, not when pale hands reach for her open throat and stop any syllable from parting with her o-shaped mouth.Helpless and suffocating, yet unable to defend herself. Not when her offender is someone she calls brother in lonely hours.

[minstebarnet]

A Moment of Weakness

26. My muse is temporarily blind.

Foolish are those who dare to predict a certain order of events. That, she is aware of, always was. Truly. Still, that doesn’t mean she could have foreseen Norveigs arrival just in the hours of twilight. Not after Líneik told her not to.

That, perhaps, had been the foolish part. Believe. Though she is fine. She doesn’t need her help. Not any more.

Or this is what she tells herself.

“ You really don’t like listening to me. “ No greeting, nothing, as the older woman opened the Icelanders front door without much ado. The ashen haired girl knows anyway. Recognised her steps.

(Trained to do so, so long ago.)

[lepetitprxnce-deactivated202305]

Eliot could very easily tell that she didn’t trust him that much

“It’s okay, I’m stronger than I look. If I drop you slap me.”

[minstebarnet]

Yeah, she heard that one before. Not from him, of course, but she did.

“ ... I wouldn’t. ”

Still, she climbs on his back. Arms around shoulders. “ I’m sorry for this. ” She supposes helping her out because of a strained ankle hadn’t been in his plans for the day.

[minstebarnet]

A Moment of Weakness

22. My muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)

“ STAY AWAY FROM ME. ” 

Panic. Panic and dark red patterns on shiny tiles. Reflecting. Paint. She doesn’t know what is true, what is real. Caught up in a dream or is it a memory? She can’t say. No, she’s far too terrified to answer such an unimportant question. It doesn’t matter.

The thunderous beating of her heart is all she can feel, all Líneik can grip on as her grey eyes become unseeing. It’s just a small wound on the pad of her fingertip. Red against white.Blood in freshly fallen snow.

[minstebarnet]

cont from here

She eyes him for several seconds, long enough to create the air of distrust. Until she finally moves. Still slow, but she does.

“ Don’t drop me. “

A warning. A plea.

@richlittleboy

[memeroundups]

Send ‘a moment of weakness’

and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter. { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

Your muse is emotionally compromised and breaking down.

My muse is emotionally compromised and breaking down.

Your muse is smashed drunk and incoherent.

My muse is completely drunk and incoherent.

Your muse is tied up (how and why is up to the mun)

My muse is all tied up (how and why is up to the mun)

Your muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and mine happens to pass by.

My muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and yours happens upon this.

Your muse is having a vivid nightmare and is shouting out brokenly.

My muse is having a vivid nightmare and is crying out in their sleep.

Your muse has been drugged with a aphrodisiac and is out of it, needing release.

My muse has been drugged with a aphrodisiac and is in a haze, needing release.

Your muse is being beat up by mine, something your muse did must of been the last straw.

My muse is being beat up by yours, something they did must of been the last straw.

Your muse is being kept hostage and mine has just rescued them.

My muse is kidnapped and yours has just rescued them.

Your muse has been beaten badly and is in bad shape, mine happens to find them.

My muse is been beaten badly and is in bad shape, yours finds mine in this state.

Your muse falls very ill and continues activities even if they seem on the verge of passing out.

My muse is sick and continues daily routine even though they seem on the verge of passing out.

Your muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)

My muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)

Your muse is being punished by mine.

My muse is being punished by yours.

Your muse is temporarily blind.

My muse is temporarily blind.

Your muse has suddenly sprained an ankle and can’t walk.

My muse has suddenly sprained an ankle and can’t walk.

Your muse has blackmail over mine.

My muse has blackmail over yours.

Your muse catches mine naked.

My muse catches yours naked.

Mun chooses.

[nordvei]

"I won't shed any more tears."

“Good. The world does not deserve anything so precious.”

[nordvei]

“So judgmental, all for the simple truth being spoken. Don’t worry, though, it won’t change my opinion. Nor am I trying to get anything from you other than a smile or two.”

[minstebarnet]

“ You’re most likely the weirdest man which happens to walk this earth . ” 

She almost sighs in exasperation, sounding rather like a mother than a younger sister. But she smiles. A bit. Upon fixing his hair for him

[nordvei]

"I won't shed any more tears."

“Good. The world does not deserve anything so precious.”

[nordvei]

“Was I supposed to add some? That would have made it seem like a false statement, though– I could give a few guesses, but it is probably best that you just tell me your own opinion on that one.”

[minstebarnet]

“ That you cut this flattery short. “ Enough is enough, she thinks quietly before taking a step towards him to pull out his hairpin.  “ Or are you trying to get something? “

[nordvei]

"I won't shed any more tears."

“Good. The world does not deserve anything so precious.”

[nordvei]

“Oh no, there is no exaggeration, the world does not deserve neither your pain or your happiness, but if I can throw in my opinion– a happy you is something to be treasured.”

[minstebarnet]

“ I don’t detect any sarcasm. “           Not wary, maybe a bit of unseen amusement and... perhaps embarrassment.  “ A happy... you know what would make me happy? ”

[nordvei]

"I won't shed any more tears."

“Good. The world does not deserve anything so precious.”

[minstebarnet]

A moment of hesitation, a tilt of her head causing ashen locks to fall into her grey eyes.  “ You exaggerate. ”                                             But a small curve lifts the corners of her lips nonetheless.