1963-11-28 - Old Souls
Summary: Hrimhari receives a visit from a friend he has not seen in millennia…
Related: None
Theme Song: None
hrimhari brunnhilde 

It's not totally clear how long the woman has been sitting in his front room, but from the even warmth of her cheeks and the faint, strange scent of power now on the air, it's probably been more than a few minutes. There are many new scents which have invaded his space — the old, echoing must of Hilde and her ragged clothing, Dial soap and generally malnourished state, but that is DEEPLY consumed by something new. Something coppery, old blood. Metallic. Swords. And, more strange than anything, poppies. The flower that the blood of battlefields makes grow. It's the scent of Valkyrie's power on the air, as she's pushed herself through the mortal coil of this body.

Even her body language alone says this is not Hilde Norris. Her boots are off, legs folded beneath her slender frame in a peaceful, focused pose. Her shoulders squared, back straight and strong. Her hair, though still too thin and pale, looks somehow more golden, fuller. Her eyes are full moon, steel-blade silver. She waits with the patience of someone who feels like they have centuries.


When the Prince of Wolves returns… well, one can hardly say 'home'. This apartment is not his home — he stops in the hallway some yards away from his front door… nostrils flaring.

Then he smiles.

When he enters the room, he sets down a briefcase, and the silver-haired man looks Brunnhilde up and down. "You smell… yourself, Soul-Warden," he calls her, giving the Valkyrie a solemn nod of his head.


The smile that the ancient woman gives him is equally as warm and respectful. She certainly looks more healthy than he has ever seen her, almost completely overcasting the frail, fragile mortal she often has presented to be in the past. The Valkyrie elegantly bows her head to him and unfolds her legs from the couch, standing smoothly so she may go greet him and any of the canines he's brought with him tonight. They deserve as much respect as their Prince.

"Indeed, Prince of Wolves. Though it is a… unique challenge to maintain control of this body which is my home. The mortal side of myself is… stronger than she appears. At least, when it comes to personality. But, having recently, finally come into full remembrance of myself, I realize I owe you quite the debt. Young Hilde does not understand, nor would she be capable of repaying such a thing… but I do. I must thank you for your actions the other week."


Smiling broadly — and with no small amount of emotion held in his golden eyes — the Prince approaches the Valkyrie, hands extended to take hers. By the time he reaches her, his body has shifted into his more comfortable 'wolfman' form, shedding the annoying clothes like an old skin.

"There is no debt, dear one," he tells her, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. Yes. The scent of the soul feels… right.

"Thou art the Twin-Souled now," he adds as he takes Brunnhilde's hands. "Wilt thou leave 'Hilde' behind? Or remain with her a time? This one believes a unique choice lies before thee…Few of the Valkyrjar would ever find themselves in such a position."


Whether Hrimhari realizes it or not, it is simply not one of the Valkyrjar that stands before him. It is *the* Valkyrie, the original, or so she claims and no one has yet fought her on such. At least, until she disappeared decades of mortal earth time ago. Now, however, a woman who looks rather different but smells very much that same as Odin's first Valkyrie stands before him and happily takes his longer, shifted hands. Well, one of her palms takes his. The other reaches up into his scruff, gingerly burying nails there in an affectionate, tender sort of scritch. As if they had been old friends but separated a few days.

"There is debt. While I did what I could to help the woman while she was mentally…Unwell, there is only so much I can do to keep this body functioning. It is frustratingly fragile, even for a mortal. When I chose this shell, perhaps it had been dead in heart and soul too long. Too empty. It never… grew strong enough again." Explaining the fact that she took over a brain dead mortal child to another Asgardian is difficult. It would be even if she was in Hilde's mind, much less her own speech which is now an odd mix of the more archiac language and what she has learned living int his place.

The question of leaving her behind gets a low sigh. She shakes her head quietly. "No. This is her life… as much as mine. More so, as… my… taking this body created her, I do believe. She is a facet of me. I just… worry joining us both will permanently shatter her. I've only recently been able to come to myself as is… Much due to the guidance you sent. Thank you, dear friend." She turns her head, resting cheek to cheek, taking in his scent as well with her far less capable nose.


"Thou hast lingered out in the dark far too long, Soul-Warden," Hrimhari says, his head bowed forward just slightly — no doubt due to the scritching at the back of his head. He is Wolf, after all. Lifting his head after some moments, he looks into Brunnhilde's eyes and lays a paw upon her shoulder.

"'Tis well past time for thee to come back into the light… even if thou must share a vessel with a Two-Leg… one who has more strength than she knows. Perhaps… you will teach her."


"Come, I know you have your nightly rituals, but you can take rest with me for a few moments. It has been too long." Brunnhilde gently tries to ease him back to the couch, so they might lounge together, stretch out like ancient days. She was never one of those too good for him, even if some Asgardians considered themselves above the level of those who commanded animals the way he did. Much like she spent so long trying to befriend and be a companion to Amora. For all her pride, she was not arrogant or ever hateful.

So, she guides to the couch. She settles easy, like it was some plush, ancient bench, body stretching, making room for him to languish along side of her. Not as lovers, but companions. Trusted friends and souls. "…Yes, I… must work on teaching her… but she will teach me. She *has* taught me. And there is so much more to learn… even if she is a two leg." Hilde scritches a few fingertips at the side of his body, "…Technically I am a two-leg as well, you know." She murmurs with a throaty sort of laugh.


Settling down into the couch, Wolfman and Valkyrie, Hrimhari lets out a chuckle. "There is more good that comes out of this world than most Two-Legs will ever see…" says he, letting his head fall back against the head-rest of the sofa — relaxing as if for the first time in centuries. "Still, seeing thee… almost as thou shouldst be… aught else pales in comparison. With recent goings-on… some good is a most welcome sight."

He tilts his head forward.

"What will you do next, old friend?"


The woman easily lounges along side of him, one of her hands buried in his fur. It's a lazy, slow stroke, up and down the side of his ribs against that familiar, powerful frame. None of the demeaning assumptions about dogs or pets. This is pure friendship and relaxation. "…There is… but that is why Asgard has always found this place fascinating, is it not? Why we protect it. Because these creatures do so much more than they know…" She explains softly, clear respect in her throaty tone for this place. The nervous rasping of Hilde's voice is simply gone.

"Recent goings on? What… else have I missed? The woman whom I am ignores much of the world. She is quite sick, in her own way… if very strong as well. It is… perplexing. And I do.. not know what to do next. I'd rather openly join with her… but I fear ruining her. And if I leave to find my body again — trapped somewhere, back on Asgard, trapped by the Enchantress of all people — I do not know that she will survive. This body had no soul. No mind, when I came. I did not… put a new one in. Nothing but myself."


The Prince frowns.

This is grave news to him, and yet not entirely unexpected. He is no master of magic by any means, but even a Wolf knows that a 'foreign soul' in a Two-Leg body — especially a Midgardian Two-Leg — is bound to have consequences.

"Watch over her then," he tells his friend. "Be thou her warden, until thou canst be no longer. We will find another solution. As to that which thou has missed…"

He takes a breath and his ears go flat against his head. "The Two-Leg ruler of this country was slain — the blame points toward this one's grandsire, Loki. He recently unveiled the existence of Asgards and her peoples to the Two-Legs here… This one can taste the chaos in the air, and it is as bile upon Hrimhari's tongue. There are a few Two-Legs whom thou shouldst meet — Milady Bloodcrown, strong in arm, gentle in heart, Milady Sunhair, born of fire and soon to fly…to name but two of them. The Master-Weaver of Spells, and his household…"

Hrimhari lets out a breath.

"Understand that suspicion and prejudice shall find thee when thou shouldst walk into the open, seen as thou truly art, old friend. They will… not understand. If and when you decide to seek out your true body, call, and Hrimhari will come — or even if you merely wish to breathe Asgardian air again in this form."


As his ears go flat, a faint frown flickers across her thin mouth. Brunnhilde turns her head and presses her slender cheek against the top of his skull, tucking one of those ears beneath her chin, almost wrapping him up in what feeble warmth she herself can offer. "…Ah, yes. I did hear that… messiness. This one's mortal partner was awfully cocky about it. The killer. He is an even more strange one. But… he cares for her. I suppose that is enough." The Valkyrie is happy to push mortal issues aside and just relax with him, focus on the reunion they manage here and now.

"…The mortal man is beginning to understand, even if he fears it… It will take time. I let her have her life, mostly. I just wished to see you. And…yes. there will be a time I wish to breathe Asgardian air again. Even if not for too long. I… have been without so… So long." She tucks against him a bit tighter. "But you, here… this helps."


Another smile graces the Prince's face and his ears perk upwards again — even his tail moves. "Then this one shall take all the joy in the reunion of friends that he can," says he, golden eyes gleaming. "This one shall take thee to visit Asgard then, even in thy form such as it is, now — but before then, thy… host may find some mementos of Asgard in her den, for Hrimhari shall bring them. A sapling, a flower, soil from the mountains thou once didst call home."

His expression grows more serious after a moment. "And this one shall keep thy return quiet for as long as he may, to give thee time to decide thy course, heretofore. When thine heart is quiet as the streams of thy true home, then make thy choices. Trust Hrimhari."


"I have always trusted you, Hrimhari… you know this to be true. If I did not, I would not be here tonight. She would not have taken at all to your care, as she is still… part of me. A branch of my soul which has grown and learned in this place as I did not think possible. The trust never changes." The woman's smile widens as she feels his tail going that way. She is almost half tempted to get him to stay, let them rest together as they would on lazy, warm days back home.

"…I appreciate you… not telling others. They may try to force my return. They may not understand… my wish for remaining here. As her. Learning what it is to be a mortal in this place. To…to bridge our beliefs. You know, I… can usher on mortal souls as well? Not just ours? Not just to Valhalla, but to wherever they find peace. In this frame…I can give peace to *all* the dead. That is…unprecedented. It is important. Who this HIlde has become… may be important…"


"'Hilde'…" repeats the wolfman. "Aye, this one knows it to be true. She has yet to find her worth… but Hrimhari knows she will — with the to guide her. And Havardr. We shall keep watch. This fragile world is changing swiftly, and who knows what it shall smell like when the sun next dawns? Hrimhari will, however, let the Wolfkind know thou art… well. They will trust his words and be content."


"You are too kind, as ever. Too… loyal. I am glad no one has taken advantage of you for this yet. I shall rip their head from their shoulders if they do." Brunnhilde half growls out those words against his fur and ears, fiercely protective, even in this strange, bird boned form. Her fingertips bury themselves deeply in his fur again. She's silent for several heartbeats before giving a drowsy laugh, "…I should go, though, lest we pretend it is high afternoon and we have all day to lie here and laze…"


ROLL: Brunnhilde +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 81


The smile upon the Wolf-Prince's face is… bittersweet, but he slowly sits up and across from the Valkyrie, knowing that the troubled person of 'Hilde' shall take her place any second now.

It would not do well to wake up, lying upon a couch next to a wolfman, no. Not for Hilde. Standing up, the Prince walks back to his clothes, his form shifting back into that of a naked man just as he pulls his trousers up. Then he puts on his shirt.

Still, he inhales deeply through his nostrils, as if committing the scent of his friend's soul to memory. "We shall meet again," he tells her, turning around. "As surely as the Sun rises over the mountains of home. Be at peace, Soul-Warden; the Dead already rejoice for thee; thou art once again among the living."


It's partially the fading of the flowers, partially her relaxing voice. Of course, when Brunnhilde said she should go, she very much meant that she should walk out the door, not mentally go, but she is still learning how violently Hilde fights for her own mind. Hrimhari's instincts about the mortal taking back over are correct. It's a few quiet moments, the Valkyrie not even quite saying goodbye, but then Hilde is suddenly sitting up straighter on the couch, her once silver eyes too blue and wide.

She keeps bare feet straight on the floor, staring down at the few bits of fur on her shirt, then quickly around to the room, heart starting to gallop in her throat. Like all the other time she has missed as of late, she has not a clue as to how she got here. Hilde breathes shakily against the panic. "…here… Again. Did you bring me? I… I don't remember. I am sorry… this… This isn't right…"


Hrimhari closes his eyes, and on the window-sill, and other places in the apartment, flowers native to the woods of Asgard grow and release their relaxing aroma into the room. It will help, if only a little.

"You are safe," he tells Hilde as he comes to stand near her. "You fell asleep for a time. This one brought you here, to make sure no harm befell you." A pause. "How do you feel, Hilde?"


Still standing herself, Hilde looks rather shorter than she did moments ago. Where as her counterpart stands straight and proud, she is always slightly hunched, slightly curled in on herself, like she's cold or ashamed. Her pale blue eyes are too nervously, wide, heart straining in her throat as she looks up to the strangely handsome, older man. "…F-fine… I feel fine. Recovered… from the mess. From everything. I'm fine. Don't…don't know why I fell asleep. Shouldn't have. I… it's not good. I don't… know what's going on. Barney won't talk to me about it.. fuck…I need to yell at him. Don't want to fight with him…not again, but… fuck…" She sits down abruptly, starting to pull on her shoes. She doesn't remember them being taken off.


Hrimhari sits down the couch a few feet away from Hilde, his entire manner gentle — he does not want to alarm her. "You are welcome to rest if you wish. If not, this one will arrange a taxi to take you home. Do not fear, young Hilde. This one can tell you…"

There is a slight pause as the silver-haired man smiles. "You are truly on the mend; the worst is over, and thy long night will soon give way to dawn. Trust that." Another smile.

"Trust Hrimhari."


Wary eyes watch him as he sits on the couch, she so different with him than Brunnhilde was. None of that easy, lounging trust. None of the warm friendship. She's still nervous about this one, though he's been nothing but kind to her. "N-no…I… can walk. It's not that cold. I'll be fine. Barney…will wonder who got me home, if… if I'm not walking. He gets…touchy. I'll manage. I… I am mended. As you said. I'm fine."

She quickly finishes tieing her shoes and then she's standing. She looks frantically around for where she might have lay her coat down, scooping it up a heartbeat later and shrugging her skinny body into it. "…you…you be good, Hari. Yer a nice guy. Weird, but nice." She gives him a little salute and heads for the door. She'll double time out if he doesn't stop her.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License