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penitence_roadA little bit of (non-canonical) Norn backstory, written while I was trying to get her timeline ironed out.
Release it.
Her hands tremble wildly, plunging downward then jerking up again in a ricochet of uncertainty. Pale blue light waves in the sapphires' depths and gleams along the band's gold curve. Images flash metal-bright through her mind,
--the muted shine of velvet--
You must release it. Do not fear.
Her throat burns like she's gulping fire. Fingers curved into rigid claws, she parts her hands, feeling the tears stream down her raw, windburnt cheeks. The clatter of the hairband on stone nearly deafens her, and she closes her eyes against the leap of the blue flames.
Release it.
"I have!" she wails, voice breaking. "What more do you want?!"
Release him. Let go.
Sobbing, she opens her eyes again, hands twisting in the chainlink of her armor. In the fire, Thane's gift burns, the gold running hot and bright. The blue light washes over her, whispering through the knots of her hair and wrapping around her, well-water cool.
She sees him there in the light, sees him as she always remembered him, shouting commands, confident and proud. One hand she presses to her mouth; the other presses against her midsection as if to hold shut a wound as, within her, her grief burns, and burns away...
After, she lifts her head wearily, drained, as she hears the scrabbling above the room. The flames have guttered, and outside, it is light. The pale sunlight spills out over the pool of gold, melted and flown into the curves of the god's holy sign, so long ago worn away. Beyond it, heavy and dark in the dim light, a flail lies abandoned on the floor.
The skeletal knocking sound enters the basement; outside, she hears Berveln roar.
She reaches for the flail, and stands.
Release it.
Her hands tremble wildly, plunging downward then jerking up again in a ricochet of uncertainty. Pale blue light waves in the sapphires' depths and gleams along the band's gold curve. Images flash metal-bright through her mind,
--the muted shine of velvet--
--a circle of gold in her hands--
--a reflection in a steel mirror, her hair being pulled back by strong, careful hands--
--his muted smile--
You must release it. Do not fear.
Her throat burns like she's gulping fire. Fingers curved into rigid claws, she parts her hands, feeling the tears stream down her raw, windburnt cheeks. The clatter of the hairband on stone nearly deafens her, and she closes her eyes against the leap of the blue flames.
Release it.
"I have!" she wails, voice breaking. "What more do you want?!"
Release him. Let go.
Sobbing, she opens her eyes again, hands twisting in the chainlink of her armor. In the fire, Thane's gift burns, the gold running hot and bright. The blue light washes over her, whispering through the knots of her hair and wrapping around her, well-water cool.
She sees him there in the light, sees him as she always remembered him, shouting commands, confident and proud. One hand she presses to her mouth; the other presses against her midsection as if to hold shut a wound as, within her, her grief burns, and burns away...
After, she lifts her head wearily, drained, as she hears the scrabbling above the room. The flames have guttered, and outside, it is light. The pale sunlight spills out over the pool of gold, melted and flown into the curves of the god's holy sign, so long ago worn away. Beyond it, heavy and dark in the dim light, a flail lies abandoned on the floor.
The skeletal knocking sound enters the basement; outside, she hears Berveln roar.
She reaches for the flail, and stands.
