「 Skill Point ― Ranger 」
Astrid

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.

Gods.

She's already tired of them, and something in her bones says she's been tired of them. If that's why the Queen and Daddy Loki and Saga are gone, she's already exhausted. Her tail swishes, watching the light die as she paces perpendicular to the horizon. She doesn't want to think about what's out there. She doesn't want to think of the world right now, not when hers is so fragile and shattered. If her other two fathers aren't leaving now, it doesn't stop her. At this moment, any of them could leave and return to the spirit world. That precedent is set.

And is she a God? She ought to be. She ought to have that power. But she feels so small and fragile, like at any minute the wrong step could shatter her into a thousand pieces.

Ahead, one of her half-siblings sits. One of the Trueborn, the ones acknowledged as a Demigod. Without Freya, are they finally equal in circumstance? If Tyr leads their remnants as King, she is a Princess now. After all, Freya was not Tyr's wife. If she is to be a bastard, so is this golden boy.

She wants to be angry at him. She wants to scream at him. She feels the rage build up in her as she approaches, but its swelling causes the surface to break. The anger bleeds out, dying before she's a step away from Asgeir.

Uncharacteristic. She doesn't have words. Grief is not something she feels she should carry. She looks at him, wordlessly, then out at the valley. She opens her mouth to speak again, but only the desire to cry meets her. She hates it. So she snaps her mouth shut and sits down next to him, huffing and forcing herself to do nothing. She's not a baby. She's not less than him. And she's not going to give him the honor of seeing her cry.

She's going to act like this was her intention all along, sitting beside him. That's all.

「 Skill Point ― Ranger 」

The young demi-god heard someone approaching, his ears flickering and rotating on his head. The foot steps were light, but the evident compression of snow crunched behid him. Asgeir couldn't stop himself from bristling, his body tensing. Who..? His nose twitched.

Ahh..

His mood seemed to fall further, eyes lingering in annoyance as the yellow girl sat beside him. It seemed she too did not wish to speak though, seeking the silence of their interaction. Asgeir couldn't deny it pleased him to know they would not speak as he returned his attention back towards the swirling winds and the dramatic watercolours of the sky.

The child was 2 months his younger, a sibling from Tyr and that one they called father. Asgeir hadn't taken the time to know that one's name but they were different from the rest of the pack. He didn't know why, nor did he care to ask. Part of Asgeir hated them, despise the very earth they walked on for it stole his father away from him. But somewhere deep inside he knew they were also feeling loss.

Gross. Was this... emotion?

If she knew he looked upon her with that disdain, she would have fought him on the spot. Younger, frailer, feminine-- it would not stop her. She holds wrath in her heart. Sitting next to him is defiance, she says. It says she no longer sees him as the child of a Queen, and herself as the bastard. No. If he were truly so gifted, would not his Queen mother take him with her? No. It means he is mortal, as she is, and now they stand on equal ground.

Astrid does not budge.

The sky shifts colors, blood amidst the orange and yellow. She raises her lip for a moment, thinking of how Loki must be beyond that sky. It makes sense that the great Yggdrassil would be in a different world, or a different part of this world. She wants to leave. She wants to expand past the oceans, find a world beyond, claim it for herself. Or perhaps she'd claim this world for hers in time. She doesn't know.

She gives Asgeir a glance, making sure he's not leering at her. He won't say a word, so she won't, either. Let him acknowledge now that the differences between them are not so great. Without Freya there to protect him, what makes him special? She's the child of three gods, not just two. That makes her the better, the stronger, the prettier of any of the lot.

And with so many of them gone, there's less competition for that role than ever.

Her nostrils flare. Her rage bubbles, oozing blood from its previous wound. But beneath it, pain. Her eyes sting. She blinks them. She won't cry. This is defiance. This is strength.

Let him choke on it.

「 Skill Point ― Ranger 」

There was an intensity that swelled beside him, an ominous force he tried his best to ignore. It was making this whole finding peace in the sky rather awkward and something was tugging on his mind. An irritation. He rolled his shoulders back and sat tall, gritting his teeth as he tried to push down the urge to snap at the girl.

But why did she have to sit here of all places on this entire mountain range?!

It urked him, rubbing him the wrong way entirely. Such a burning annoyance was growing in the pit of his stomach that it was becoming more and more difficult to push away. He was trying, more than he normally would. He really wasn't in the mood for such dramatics but if she pushed him, he'd blow.

A couple more birds danced in front of the him amongst the backlit oranges of the sky, their silhouettes doing the walts in the wind. Seconds felt like minutes as he watched them before they dispersed into the canopy below. Awkwardly, he glanced at his sibling, spying a glassiness to her eyes.

His lip twitches momentarily as he shifts his weight and inches away from the child. He wasn't about to do this here, couldn't she just leave?

She turns to look at him properly this time, noticing him backing away from her.

There's no words still, but simply the burning on her face, the rage in her soul. The need to be seen. The need for him to see her. And even if he hates her for it, she would make him acknowledge her. There's no more ignoring, no more treating her like she's nothing. Something in her soul says that men are not to be given mercy, even if they're related to her. Blood is nothing.

The burning in her blue eyes reflects the dying light of the sun. Look. Her face says it as she stands, stance wide, legs stiff.

Astrid is no longer going to be a lesser. She will not let anyone treat her as such. If he truly were greater than her, would Freya not have taken him? No. So he was never much of anything in the first place, was he? And she'd say that, but there are no words coming through her throat. She will not cry. She will not break.

「 Skill Point ― n/a 」

Their eyes locked, the burning passion of whatever was going around in her mind present in those pale blue eyes. While similar to his own, they lacked the gold outer ring, one of the differences that separated the two golden children.

She reminded him of that split coloured boy, the one he'd ripped into for getting cocky. Were all of that litter the same? Headstrong and down right stupid? A disgusted frown morphed onto his maw. She looked like she was either going to cry especially with all that focus she was looking at him with.

A thought made him snort and he just couldn't keep it from slipping from his mouth as a twisted smirk dared to pull at his once frowning maw.

You look like you're going to shit yourself.

Her nostrils flare, but there's a pride in it. The rage curls, the anger bites, and yet. Yet she can't help it. It bubbles, it bites, it curls, and then it explodes-- the need to laugh. It's high-pitched, ungraceful, hyena-like, leaving her convulsing slightly in the process.

And when it passes, she looks up at him, the look of intensity changing slightly. "You lose." It's a game, isn't it? A game of power. And she considers this a win.

It's something to give her meaning in this moment.

"A fair way to lose, even. Jokes and all." There's a smug curl to her voice, as the urge to cry creeps in again. But she won't. She's not going to. Even as she shakes a little. The silence is dead now.

「 Skill Point ― n/a 」

The smirk falters as the manical laughter begins. A look of concerned disgust plasters itself across the boy's face and inevitably he takes a step back, casting his gaze around himself in hopes to find an escape from this rabid child. He didn't act like this at her age did he? What a creep she was.

With the frown having returned and his eyes looking back to the weird girl, her voice breaks his running thoughts as he finally figures out a way to escape. He lost? He lost what? The look of concern is clouded by thick brows that furrow and a lifting of his lip as the disgust only grows.

Lost? they were playing a game? To lose, surely both parties needed to be aware of the game? A coldness holds onto his tone. How dare she accuse him of losing when nothing has been lost.

I don't lose. there was a bite to his tone. He wasn't here for fun and games.

Skill: Sadist 1/5

The way he speaks to her is unacceptable, but the grin stays on her face even as her limbs shake. They're the same fucking age, separated by only a few weeks, but she's so much smaller than him. And yet, she's not going to back down. Without Freya here to protect them, she's not afraid of them anymore.

Let him be a bastard, too.

"You spoke. You broke." The rage is coming back, blood through her teeth. "I got you to say something first."

And for a moment, she wonders if her hatred of him is a hatred of all men. But something tells her that brothers can be dangerous. Brothers can do worse than simply beat her. But this one... He's not clever enough to do that. He's just a brute, isn't he?

"I bet you'll be the first to strike, too," she continues. "Gonna lose to your temper?"