1/23/2025, 3:57 PM
His mother way gone. His siblings, also gone. Sverke remained, as did his dad and for that Asgeir was grateful. Even some of the pesky half siblings had vanished but with so much of it happening, Asgeir put it down to the gods deciding on fates.
He often found himself on the mountainside, staring up at the stars during those last couple of weeks, face a blank slate of emotion as he tried to search for something. On that day, the skies were scarcely decorated with clouds, the winds shifting from the east to the west as the sun said it's final goodbye's and handed over the beacon of guidance to the moon. He watched the setting sun with such an intensity, a feeling of kinship shared between them as it laid itself to rest behind the horizon.
If only he could follow it, to seek out that horizon. It was one of the only things keeping him situated in this mortal plain, if he was to believe his fathers tall tales.
Gods, it seemed, lived amongst the mortal. His dad said so himself. Unlike his siblings, it seemed Asgeir and Sverke were also mortal though, born to be torn between both life and death for aeons to come. Not quite mortal, but not so immortal either. If his mother had been there, he'd have asked her to tell him more, to help him, to guide him. But she was not, and that left the boy to mourn a connection he had favoured above all else.
Birds danced across the sky, seeking a place to nest for the night as they dove in the forests below the mountain. Their songs did not penetrate the icy environment like it did in the lowlands, and for that Asgeir was thankful. He enjoyed the silence the most, it let him think without distraction.
He often found himself on the mountainside, staring up at the stars during those last couple of weeks, face a blank slate of emotion as he tried to search for something. On that day, the skies were scarcely decorated with clouds, the winds shifting from the east to the west as the sun said it's final goodbye's and handed over the beacon of guidance to the moon. He watched the setting sun with such an intensity, a feeling of kinship shared between them as it laid itself to rest behind the horizon.
If only he could follow it, to seek out that horizon. It was one of the only things keeping him situated in this mortal plain, if he was to believe his fathers tall tales.
Gods, it seemed, lived amongst the mortal. His dad said so himself. Unlike his siblings, it seemed Asgeir and Sverke were also mortal though, born to be torn between both life and death for aeons to come. Not quite mortal, but not so immortal either. If his mother had been there, he'd have asked her to tell him more, to help him, to guide him. But she was not, and that left the boy to mourn a connection he had favoured above all else.
Birds danced across the sky, seeking a place to nest for the night as they dove in the forests below the mountain. Their songs did not penetrate the icy environment like it did in the lowlands, and for that Asgeir was thankful. He enjoyed the silence the most, it let him think without distraction.
