‘ sometimes, you’ll find it hard to keep going, but you always will. ’
THE GOD OF LIGHT LIES IN THE PRESENCE OF THE HEALER —— does he glow? does he glimmer? does the sun rise for him and does the moon try to shine for him? does the light vie for his attention like a jealous lover —— or does it bend for him, a malleable tool in his grasp? do the stars stare beseechingly at the sun / suns / sun which sheds its bright light upon the nine realms and wish that they were it / them / it : if only for the god of light to bless them so soundly?
THE GOD OF LIGHT IS A WALKING TRAGEDY —— it’s not an understatement to say as much, he’s certain. a tragedy in movement / a tragedy in motion / a tragedy from the moment he took his first breath. the son of odin : the brave. are all gods not tragedies in wait? a servant to the gods begs to differ / stories beg to say otherwise / and there is always some truth to stories, isn’t there?
how would this begin, if it were spun into a story? perhaps something like this : the moon has awakened and the sun has been laid to rest and there are stars glimmering in the sky, finally able to be seen, and they are clamoring and raucous and singing. the moon watches with sleepy eyes as the healer makes his way to the god of light, movements of disjointed grace in the moonlight. there is something quiet, here. there is something secret, here.
nothing is a secret to the ALL-FATHER, is it?
a sprig of mistletoe tucked behind his ear / hidden amongst his wild curls / it falls away as he approaches and the god TURNS and the earth turns, as well. maw opens and words come and he wonders if he is so very transparent. ( HE IS. HE IS. HE IS A CLEAR POND WHICH YOU CAN SEE STRAIGHT TO THE BOTTOM / WHERE THERE IS NOTHINGNESS. HE IS AIR / NOT SMOKE. ) the healer stares, head tipped, and then smiles an unhappy smile : a melancholy smile.
❝ that’s the nature of life, isn’t it? ❞ voice like feathers in the darkness and he steps his way across rocks and earth and shattered sky and finds himself beside baldur : the healing process has already begun. there’s a reason why he’s here. they both know it well.
arm severed / separated / body shattered / he is BLEEDING for all that he is an immortal god and he will not die because he cannot but / the process can be sped along. that’s his purpose, after all. that’s why he’s alive. that’s why he’s here. hands reach out and he sets to work, hands curving around uneven ribs and pushing, re-breaking and moving and setting and HEALING and above them : the stars are singing.
❝ we always keep going, ❞ he continues without preamble, an impossible amount of time later. he reaches out, rearranges limbs and breaks another bone with nary a blink, setting it proper. THE HEALER PIECES THE GOD OF LIGHT BACK TOGETHER ——
❝ even when we don’t want to, ❞ he finally looks at baldur’s face, smiling still. he reaches / long fingers splaying / and shifts his nose. the crack resounds and birds screech and the stars reach a fever pitch and he soothes it with a tap to the bridge / the earth shudders.
❝ because we’re alive. ❞
@litegod // grave suggestion.
