POV: Heath Dollen.
Date: Góa 4th, 798 AD. (Alt: 15th February, 799 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
'This feels off, at how fast she is pushing the relationship.' Heath hid his racing thoughts, Skaði always at least <= league (2.2200-km (1.3795-mi)) span away from him during their travel through the bordering Borgholmr (Borgholm island.)
She stalked, circling to protect her younger Lover God. Now and then, she would appear in front of him to give a moment to show her love through a sudden kissing sesh before disappearing by the next fierce gaze. Sometimes surprising Heath with how truly fast a Dís (Fate Goddess) was. 'Is this true love? Or is something hidden from me?' . . .
'Did she know of her future arranged marriage to Óðinn, to find me as a shield?' Heath forced that away, instead telepathically speaking to her, to simply stay by his side, to hold hands and to treat the forest less as a threat to their lives. But, she would not heed what is seen as an underreaction, as the effect of the Lyngbakr (ἀσπιδοχελώνη (Aspidochelone)) sea beast would lead to other creatures towards rising stresses over the food chains' major disruptions. Hers is none who would get close to, a presence too Godly for standard fauna alone.
"*?*" Heath feels he may have gone way over his head, and that he should cut down on his Divine-Mead consumption later on. Hidily rolling his eyes before noticing an island one would realise was not part of any GPS or maps, he remembered in thanks to his photographic memory of many small croppings within Kalmarsund (Where the Kalmar Strait is.)
His vision could tell how one could see the illusion of grass that is its surprisingly saturated algae on its surface, and of the coalescing 'trees' that are the spines of such a large creature. It stayed a revenant within the water, sculking with the stillness necessary to be confused with a rocky island. Heath raises his hand, pointing straight to the Lyngbakr (ἀσπιδοχελώνη (Aspidochelone)) sea beast's location, with the great Huntress taking out both of their energy-shooting bows. Before that, however. Heath knew such a creature could not realise its mind is read, so he does so.
There was an intelligence equal to that of hvalr (Whales.) Yet of deepened anguish at having spent centuries running afront its watery domains with none to call beside herself, equal Gods and Mortals chasing her in seeing only for that appearance, of a monster.
There was a crushing cynicism felt by its contemplatively similar emotions, with a single directive in her mind: That if any boats got too close, they were to be capsized, afterwards streaking away below the waves. A somehow undying blue whale that had grown in an almost mutated fashion deriving the excessive power of faith all those lifetimes prior, during its escapades from ANTONINVS PIVS (Antoninus Pius)' whaling vessels that would hunt the Atlantic Grey and Right Whales and found her too close upon them.
She built a lasting myth that had spread enough throughout the empire about the 'CETVS (κῆτος (Sea Monster))' that burdened their shores over multiple decades, that became much of a legend before being turned into the Lyngbakr (ἀσπιδοχελώνη (Aspidochelone).)
Its size and altered physiology would allow it to eat schools of fish as it would a swarm of krill in the past. He is sad that she became an unaware part of sapping the years' supplies for local communities. Now, Heath, using his omni-translation magic, sets a message to be directly pinged into her mind. 'Hello?' The tall God asks. The next second interred, an aftershock occurs from the transmodified whale. A small thrashing occurred, overcasting the fins, its body flailing in position in a built-in traumatic response before pausing, realising it was a friendly voice that could speak its tongue. The whale's voice made a silent "*WOOOOOO-*" that vibrated the waters.
Heath realised part of what was required, he raised his fist and used 2 fingers that represented 'Negotiating.' Knowing the marine biology of normal blue whales, a self-furrowing of magic was controlled to transform into a more friendly appearance that she could recognise, slidingly entering the waters the next river distance away.
He swam from this hidden viewpoint to seem as if he did not just appear from thin air, slowly gliding around the lonely female whale while doing a gentle hum to calm her down. 'Please, to be safe, speak your thoughts through your mind.' That earned a pause of the "*-OOOH.*" Her decades of carefully expunging her existence are now completely thrown down into the abyss. '. . . Safe?' She repeated back that single word, both a question and revocalisation after having no contact with any of her kind, leading to her communication skills regressing.
'Yes, you are alright. My name is Heath. Do you want food?' The transmodified giant's eyes widened, an expression of agreement through a "*Bloᵒoᵒh*" sound next. The smaller 'whale' provided a light that absorbed through her skin, a taste of her most favourite school of krill she had eaten years prior, a feeling of fullness filling her, a sensation she had missed.
'. . . Heath.' The elderly voice spoke in a gentle tone, its body that had been kept still for weeks now moving as if to gently encase him in protective motherly instinct. Even just meeting a literal wave prior, she saw him as a son impromptu. The tall God slowly introduced more memories, concepts, and language to help her understand the world. He described to her the history and concepts unavailable below the water of the surface world, and of the reasons why she had once been hunted.
Her curiosity, yet equally entrenched trauma, clashed as a battle of personality. The Southern Seafarers were vilified in her mind for wishing to make her a 'delicacy,' but now, she realised, the people of the North had wished for no harm to come to her at first, and had only seen her as a landmass from her grand size.
By the 3rd rotation around Heath, he slowly grazed her side in physical touch. She froze for a moment before falling into the 'embrace' of missing affection. This prolonged for long enough that he felt his Lover Goddess tagging his mind in worry. After that accidental silence, Heath now notified Skaði of the success in that this was no monster, that this immortal whale was simply a wounded soul that had no home to call to. Nor creatures that could commit beside her eternally. Our heroes realised what needed to be done, and that the best way to give her peace was to provide her with a better 'sea' that had no people to fish above.
'I, could guide you to a new home.' Heath corralled her thoughts towards the Cavern, and how he was the creator of such a grand space, where he could repurpose much of it, to be used as a new 'beach' for her to have free space to swim with others he trusted himself.
The great scientist God was rather surprised she was so open-minded to the fact that he was a God, when she was once hunted by many such beings in the past. A show that her desperation made her put their fins into this gambit. 'Do you wish to come?' Heath nuzzled her side, a skin's whisper that made her remember her old pod. 'Hello, home?' She repeated the first words she had ever rerealised in existence with sarcasm. 'Let us go, then.' Heath touched her mind with a sleeping charm, putting her into a blissful slumber.
'Sassy grandma.' Heath thought to himself in English, before doing as he stated. His children are told of the matter, before warping himself back into his human 'new form,' then recreating a perfect abyssal environment on the south-east corner of the Cavern, an unused large space of 009 / 128 ≈ (978,949.4447-Model km (316,406.25-km (196,605.7288-mi)))^(2.) About the size of modern Spain, as he knew she could potentially grow further. It is filled with a few artificial lands. A rapidly growing, grand marine ecosystem, implanted into their new aquatic coastal environment.
And a standard hidden dispenser that can adapt to the choices of this whale's mind and hunger, it can release Cellular agriculturally grown meat as millions of pellets varied from krill to minnow-size with any texture and flavour she can choose, with the necessary nutrients and vitamins needed for her diet, beside that, if she wanted a more digital experience, there was the hyper-massive externalised Uni-pod.
Heath warps back, finding her still fast asleep. He cooes at how adorable she appeared, even when able to dwarf smaller islands. He gently transports her into her new 'retirement home' while filling in the displaced space with oceanic water. Finally, he felt it was a job well done with a satisfied smile playing on his face. Getting ready to leave swimmingly until he felt the intense stare directed at his trailing form, reminiscent of Thyra's welcoming of his focus on helping refugees. He turns around, soon seeing a
His vision squinted towards Jǫrmungandr's own, sending a mote of vitality as food, knowing there was not much out in the seas that could feed her. That earned a slow blink and closing mouth before she slinked away into deeper waters in acceptance, soon turning invisible against the haar fog.
"Well, shit." His English wisdom turned to skiddadling through another warping towards his Lover Goddess' location. 'She was NOT meant to see me.' He would internally mark over his mistake with hindsight, with Skaði tilting her head in disjointment from feeling his dismay. 'Then, to better hope she does not tell their father.' He shivers uncontrollably, Loki's possible plans in using him as a pawn plaguing his deepest waking nightmares. 'I always find the characters meant to lead to many of the cast's deaths, maybe I should start declining these freak requests?'
He rejects that idea uninhibitedly, as while it may lead to fate forcing him down a path, the only thing he wishes to complete is a way to make ends even, or at best, to use his capabilities in saving others' lives, which reminds him of a certain headcracked Æsir.
"My snærrskina (Shining snow.) Could you bring me to Dróttinn Hœnir, please? I wish to see if I can help him." Well, she could not say no to those lovely manners, now could she? They do so with hands in arms, reaching the size-unrestricted body of the ancient Deity in his 'shrine,' his gigantification tall enough to pierce the surrounding mountains in Vanaheimr. Wyrding (Œrlǫgljós (White fate)) magic so thick it rolls over him as blanketing snowstorms. The great scientist God scans the injury that left him in a catatonic, immobile state, where his moiling power led the once thriving valley to be covered by grand ice sheets.
He scans the external skin damage and the shattering of his skull that led to an illusionment of his mind, turned into a micro-realm that led to seeing all of your greatest regrets into driving you to madness if locked within. With the phylactery long since built and the mana siphon unused from Chapter 42, he reverses a process towards creating a large injector.
And allocatively, with the injector being a central faculty, he redesigned the ritualistic horizontal circle to surround it, all of it having been embedded into Hœnir's split cranium. He calls 65 / 75 trialers who were available and not using their greater spiritual ability for work. 57 chose to join in to donate part of their magical reserves and only a minor portion of their blood through the siphon. Now, he cannot cut his wrist again with Aghi, so he uses Freyja's reserves with Skaði's express permission and Rod's Divine energy through liquifying his apples.
Even so, like with the *Ĥstḗrium, he also slowly releases his own beside everything else to act as a minor adhesive bonding agent compared with the applicable energy and space bi-concepts. By the time it was done, the dawn that broke was of Góa 6th (Alt: 17th February)'s.
It took the effort of 4 Deities and all the joiners who gave in 5% of their blood and 30% of their reserves to remove the damage sustained by Óðinn's Gungnir. Hœnir, after his body was fully repaired, shrank back down in size to Baldr's height, yet he remained unconscious. "It would be better for us to bring him to Konungr Tiwaz." Heath would exclaim, the trade that had happened far in the past of the show, finally being completed with him now intact, rather than as an insanity-inducer. Heath carried the old Áss (God) gently in a princess carry, kneeling towards the thorned king in another success over multiple nights of trialling.
"Thank, you." The King of the misty storm nods gratefully towards him, soon asking his 3rd þegn (Servant) Byggvir, Yngvi (Freyr)'s mill-grinder and taught healer, his incredibly strong baker's figure framed by his thigh-length hair, helped to carry Hœnir, who was twice his size.
"The past, has been fulfilled." Konungr Tiwaz's crown raised atop his wooden monobrow lift. Feeling as if his debts to his new family were growing ever higher, the next, he realised there would be no point in equalising, for Heath did not care about that. He laughs in an un-rotten creaking, feeling himself spiritually heal from his decay. "And, our people, are safe,*Pause*once more." Surprising the rest of the Vanir, their king grabbed his new adaptable hilt and walked down through the way, before jamming its end to make a rocking noise that reverberated through the entrance of the Iðavǫllr council hall.
As the wisened one bows, those before him react to match their ruler. All Vanir and allied saw the growing creed between their King and great Huntress with whom they saw as an outsider a few weeks prior, a surprising turn of events to build up against their dwindled, now unfading memories.
And one they are more than happy to continue fulfilling, if there are more surprises like the Uni-Pods arriving again. Heath felt uncomfortable having so many people bow towards him. Eh, he kept quiet, Skaði's silent hand grasping his waist in comfort. Their heights in comparison to Heath's original form made it easier for her to eye waistwards. It seems she has thoughts about the shapeshifter who is her Lover God. Something they may figure out once he feels comfortable enough to break their barriers further.
POV: Freyja Njǫrðrsdóttir
Date: Góa 6th, 798 AD. (Alt: 17th February, 799 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
Her eyes twitched with whitening bluish light from the feeling of having half her saved pool being used in the span of a few days, her guessing of Heath's personage making her imagine something grand in its usuality.
"*Huh~*" She breathed out slowly within her room in the Valhǫll's Ásynjur (Goddesses) quarters, running the edge of her still darkened neck betwixting the forceful removal of her necklace Brisingamen in punishment by her brother, understandably ellipsing all points of view. . .
Except for hers. She muttered under her breath curses about the many times she had used her power to help grow both the Vanir and herself in influence. The single time it was done again, as the time with the dvergar, to find possible faults in an off-worlder and in trading, was the broken string that got her self-dominion suspended in revocation. She pulls up to pet her cats in a self-calming embrace, both of her highly loyal feline companions pushing their heads while "*Purring*" wholesale. They were given their treats of meat before she left them upon their Sæhrímnir pelts to travel within an unkept, isolated portion of the Ásar (Gods) quarters to find Loki.
"Oh, she finally arrives~." The trickster would slant his eyes in mischievous white light, punctuating his high cheekbones from the focused beams towards Freyja. "And may you bring news of this 'revision?'" He would walk to the left of her side, reappearing to walk by her right, steering to scoop some basin water.
She would raise her hand, forcing 'him' to stand still and for any decepting phantasms to disappear from her sight, finding that Loki was sitting upon a foldable plank chair in reading through his daughter's messaging scrawl while telekinetically raising the handleless mug towards himself. "You have no taste." He would point, guiding her to another stool for a comfortable arrangement. Both now quieten in discussion, their private conversations met with a few of 'her' own suggestions that came from Heath's best ideas to dealing with Þórr.
"-through creating overwhelming sensory input, one can use a concept found by those down south near a þúsund (Long thousand (1,200)) winters prior known as 'lodestones.' If one gathers enough of this material to direct his lightning from how we see iron attract a storm's ire, we could weaken blows directed to our warriors while we pelt him with hidden attacks."
She pauses, planning the best way to apply his knowledge. 'I may borrow Heath's teaching of a voltaic pile, how to describe it?*Ah*' "If we design long sky-spearing pillars they call 'pilons' that surround certain strong points away from our army, we could lead smaller spiked entrapments into the ground where he least expects it, lastly coating them with your daughter's venom to follow the fate of 'mingling their seed to complete death.'" That nearly caused Loki to fly into a minor scuffle with her. But no, he forced himself down, realising the veracity of this idea, without it directly involving his beautiful Jǫrmungandr.
Loki turned frozen, caught between his love in hoping to keep her from any harm's way, and for asking a bottle of her venom to complete this part's fathoming. 'I am sorry, my ljómahaf (ocean-shining) daughter.' "You speak truth, I see its validity." He raises his mug in a toast, flowing mouthways with a noble flaunting. "But know I will add much to
He now gets up, his silver hirsute hair framing his growing smile before morphing, turning into his raven-form and seamlessly flying through an opening by the roof of his light-sparse room.