Ragnarök awaits.
The mainlands, but not just the mainlands. The frigid north, uninhabited by many. A land that most had forgotten, and for good reason. Somewhere that was so far off, so far removed, that it seemed time had all but forgotten them. A secretive people. A people who didn’t often send their own out into the world… at least not intentionally. The fact that Åse was even here now was maybe a small marvel, though one she couldn’t explain. No, she didn’t have the words for it. Maybe in time she would. Maybe. It was hard for her to give voice to the thoughts in her head, limited as her vocabulary was.
It occurred to her that she’d need to learn eventually, but eventually was a long way off. Åse had a soft voice, and sometimes it was hard to use it. Sometimes. There’s always going to be a bit in her head that’s more than a little far away. Far away places lived inside her head, as they did. Åse had always been far from home, even when she lived there. Did that make sense? No. But she also wasn’t going to bother explaining. No one was going to listen anyway.
Right over there, oh– Åse followed the direction of his muzzle, and it made sense. When he began moving too, the silver haired mare was barely able to conceal her surprise. It was a pleasant one, for certain, but she hadn’t expected anything more than directions. He was coming with her, this Raziel. A bit of a smile played on her lips, one that reached her eyes and filled them with a light that had become more and more uncommon these days.
The trees came closer as they neared, and Åse was grateful for the break in the wind. Your accent, oh, yes. “Sorry, if I make it hard to understand,” her tail flickered at her haunches. Though she was trying her best to speak clearly, the words came out stilted and strange. Getting her thoughts across would become easier in time, but time… time would still need to come. It would also depend on just how much speaking Åse would do here. Would it be like home? Would she remain a wallflower?
“Far, far away. On the mainland, and much time northward from there.” She nodded once, maybe to herself. It punctuated her speech, and she considered his question. The Islands… well. “Yes and no,” she spoke slowly, considering. “Some don’t believe they’re real.” Each island with an isolated climate, despite their proximity– it seemed very strange, and her people believed mostly in things that they could see, feel, touch. Something like these islands seemed ridiculous to her people… they couldn’t be real. They couldn’t be real, but here she stood, speaking with Raziel and hiding from the chilly wind.
“You are from here?” The words were curious. Maybe it was silly, but Åse didn’t want him to leave. She would do her best to come up with something to say, something to ask him, in an effort to keep him here. The silvery mare could hope, right? Surely she could hope.
ÅSE
mare. ten. silver blue roan. icelandic. |