how quickly they do sell their souls - open

Helayne Ilirum

She’d left the sanctuary of the Wilds hours ago, and with each heavy step of the horse beneath her she dreaded it more and more. It was not Valthira, with its cold snowy peaks and hidden warm valleys, but it had become a home in a way. Too soon the heavy canopy of trees gave way to the worn roadways of man and stench of the city. Sweat, smoke and piss. The salt of the sea far beyond. The sight of the boats and their heavy sails bobbing in the harbor a marvel. There was nothing like it where she’d grown up, tucked high in the mountains. She’d learned to swim in the hot springs and in the darkness of caves, but it was nothing like what she’d first seen here.

Freya’s ears lashed back and forth, her nostrils quivering as she breathed in the strange scents. Hel laid a calloused hand against her dappled neck to try and settle her, but she tended to agree. It was the noise that unsettled her the most. In the mountains everything was careful whispers to avoid the mountain's wrathful avalanches and practiced steps to avoid ice fissures in the glacier. Here voices were loud, even from outside the gates, she could hear them bartering, laughing, and yelling.

Begrudgingly, she made her way towards the gate house. The guards hardly seemed to notice a single soul. The market opened up before her, stands of every size and possibility lined the crowded roadway. She slipped down from the saddle, taking hold of the reins she maneuvered them through the thickest part of the crowd towards a familiar stand. She could see the heavy plumes of smoke curling above its thatched roof. The sight of it brought a small smile to her lips. That was until she heard the shouting. ”Oi, you try and cheat me again I’ll be quenching my next blade in your guts!”

Helayne watched as Halfdan, even at his old bent age, whipped out a large dagger from his sleeve and pointed it towards his offender, his peg leg giving him no trouble as he lunged forward. The man was well dressed, his attire adorned and jeweled. His hair was clean, his hands soft. Most likely someone with enough status that shouldn’t be so directly threatened.

She came up behind him, shoving her own blade into his ribcage. ”You heard the man, pay what you owe and move along.” With a fluster he did as he was told and hurried along down the road. Laughing, she looked over at Halfdan who gave her a stern look with his one good eye. It quickly slipped into a smile as he reached for her, his strong arms nearly breaking her in half with his embrace. Her own was just as fierce. This old man was all she had left of home. He had been her father’s closest friend. He had missed the slaughter traveling to places like this. Selling his wares and collecting more supplies for their small village. There wasn’t a memory of her childhood that didn't have him in it, watching over her and her brothers with her father gone.

"It’s been awhile lass, you doing alright out there?' She could tell he was trying to hide the concern in his normally gruff and hoarse voice.

"I’m fine, Halfdan," she smiled gently, tying the mare close by as she came to sit beside him. ”I’ve just come to sell my hides and to see what you know… Are you missing another finger or have you always not had that one?” She teased, reaching out to grab his hand and what fingers he had left. ”What kind of blacksmith will you be without fingers?” She laughed, letting him pull his hand away from her with mock irritation.

”Oh, I could use that stubborn hard head of yours, aye?” his big smile had her laughing again.

His manner changed though, his one clear eye downcast, his hands wringing in his lap. ”There is something…” He reached under the counter and pulled out a small satchel. It was worn and weathered, but she recognized the symbols on it at once.

”What? How?” Opening it she could still smell the herbs her mother used to carry inside it. Her small journal was there, faded and worn. She was almost afraid to touch it. Holding the small leatherbound book in her hands she flipped through the pages to find her mother’s familiar handwriting. Notes on herbs and their uses, different remedies she was trying for a variety of ailments. A love note, hidden in the unused pages from her father to her mother. She’d never met him, but she knew his writing the moment she saw it. Tears stung at her eyes as she looked back up at Halfdan. His face was softer than she’d ever seen it. ”Aye, I know… Some have made it back… None of your kin I’m sad to say, but some names you’d know.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing, her body felt cold all over. ”I have been sending what I can, I’m too old to go back now. There is more though...” He handed her a very official looking letter with her father and her eldest brother’s names written there… There was no hesitation as she opened it, reading the contents of the letter.

A draft. They were calling her dead father and brother to fight a war. Hel sat frozen for a moment. A humming current seemed to be boiling her blood, buzzing in her brain, thundering in her heart. She could taste her lightning on her tongue, threatening to strike everything around her. How could they? How could they ask this of her family, the ones they failed to protect, the one’s they had failed to save. An entire village, hundreds of years, thousands of generations bled out and ended in the snow. This countries leaders were so shallow she believed they’d command the dead to serve if it were possible though.

She looked at Halfdan with a burning rage. ”I’ll be back for the supplies.” It was all she could manage to say. Before he could speak or reach for her, she was astride the mare and racing through the city blindly, ignoring the angry shouts from those she nearly trampled.

ooc: this is ridiculous and long, so sorry, this won’t happen again lmao open for whoever!