Thorfinn Thorsson }{ Karlsefni (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seekingvinland) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-08-26 08:29 pm
seekingvinland) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-08-26 08:29 pm
The Destruction of Bungalow #44.
WHO: Thorfinn/Jo, then OTA.
WHERE: House 44; The Waverly.
WHEN: Predated to the 29th Storm Surge Event with Mod Permission.
OPEN TO: Jo, Kol + Threads open to those that want to help Thorfinn and Jo at their house.
WARNINGS: A lot of cursing. Will update otherwise.
STATUS: OPEN!
Days had passed since the meeting in the inn. The meeting Thorfinn stormed out of because of a headache. He had never been a social butterfly, but the language barrier was making things harder for him to want to be more social. He was both lonely and pushing the world away. The way he did in his teens to keep the horde away from him. The issue was, he was understanding a lot better than most would a man with as little known English as he had two months ago. He just had major issues with so many talking against one another so fast. It had left him annoyed and feeling isolated. Old feelings from long ago.
Since that day he had been spending most of his time in his routine. Hunt for dinner, look for herbs and collect mushrooms and timber. He keeps busy to not focus on his issues. The nightmares getting more vivid everyday. This had happened before, it was nothing new. When he started to feel the weight of life, sometimes his dead would appear in his vision in his waking hours. Reminders that he deserves whatever pain he was in. His pain would never equal to the pain he had brought upon others.
These were the thoughts littering his mind as he made his way down early afternoon. He no longer really knew how long he had been in the village. Time never really held meaning to one who didn't care about time beyond the holidays, and the approaching cold.
He made his way through the fountain park the way he usually does, cutting past the inn. A nod given to those he passed now and then. He tried to be friendly even when he didn't feel it. He had not slept well, he never sleeps well but the night before had been pretty bad. Bad enough that he felt bad for Jo having to deal with him some nights. He was tired and pondering laying down on the bench, that Jo called a couch, and trying to sleep a little even though he rarely considered sleep in the day, it was shameful to be a layabout. It was while pondering this that he started into the yard, at first not noticing a sloshing feel under his feet like it had rained. AS he neared the door only then did he notice the stream of water rolling from under the door.
"ó fjandinn!"
His eyes widened as he hurried to the door the timber abandoned to the front yard as he pushed the door open and more water rolled out soaking the boots he had on. "ríða, ríða, ríða!"
Their house, by the gods, there was water everywhere. All he could think of was how the lady next door had asked him if flooding had happened in their home. Water belongs in the river and now their home was a river.
He left the door hanging open and turned running as fast as his legs would take him, it had been a long while since he really utilized his speed. His brawl with Snake had been his last true burst of speed. Now he was running down the streets of this strange new land for the inn. Jo was usually there, if not Jo, maybe Kate would know. He came through the door fast sliding to a stop. "Jo!" he called out, the shock and concern all over his house. "House! The house is a river!" He forgot the word that their kind neighbor Peggy had used. He did not recall flood in English.
Closed to Kol
Awhile later Thorfinn was hauling things out of the saturated house. Mostly their personal effects. His carvings and soaked clothes. He was grumbling under his breath in Norse the whole while. The anger and stress showed in his shoulders and grit teeth. He wasn't even trying to hide his displeasure at the situation.
He couldn't help but think of their neighbor and her wet rugs. That would have been much better than their home turning into a river while they were both out to stop it from happening. Not that he understood it much anyway. Still every now and then he would stop and look at Jo. Jo understood more of what this meant than he did. Just was the one who kept him from slipping over to the darker side that hide in the shadows. A side of himself he though was buried, but clearly wasn't. Standing in the middle of their soaked yard he shook his head after a second.
"We will be good." He muttered walking past her to go back inside to gather more things to bring out to the streets. He didn't know what the plan was after that.
WHERE: House 44; The Waverly.
WHEN: Predated to the 29th Storm Surge Event with Mod Permission.
OPEN TO: Jo, Kol + Threads open to those that want to help Thorfinn and Jo at their house.
WARNINGS: A lot of cursing. Will update otherwise.
STATUS: OPEN!
Days had passed since the meeting in the inn. The meeting Thorfinn stormed out of because of a headache. He had never been a social butterfly, but the language barrier was making things harder for him to want to be more social. He was both lonely and pushing the world away. The way he did in his teens to keep the horde away from him. The issue was, he was understanding a lot better than most would a man with as little known English as he had two months ago. He just had major issues with so many talking against one another so fast. It had left him annoyed and feeling isolated. Old feelings from long ago.
Since that day he had been spending most of his time in his routine. Hunt for dinner, look for herbs and collect mushrooms and timber. He keeps busy to not focus on his issues. The nightmares getting more vivid everyday. This had happened before, it was nothing new. When he started to feel the weight of life, sometimes his dead would appear in his vision in his waking hours. Reminders that he deserves whatever pain he was in. His pain would never equal to the pain he had brought upon others.
These were the thoughts littering his mind as he made his way down early afternoon. He no longer really knew how long he had been in the village. Time never really held meaning to one who didn't care about time beyond the holidays, and the approaching cold.
He made his way through the fountain park the way he usually does, cutting past the inn. A nod given to those he passed now and then. He tried to be friendly even when he didn't feel it. He had not slept well, he never sleeps well but the night before had been pretty bad. Bad enough that he felt bad for Jo having to deal with him some nights. He was tired and pondering laying down on the bench, that Jo called a couch, and trying to sleep a little even though he rarely considered sleep in the day, it was shameful to be a layabout. It was while pondering this that he started into the yard, at first not noticing a sloshing feel under his feet like it had rained. AS he neared the door only then did he notice the stream of water rolling from under the door.
"ó fjandinn!"
His eyes widened as he hurried to the door the timber abandoned to the front yard as he pushed the door open and more water rolled out soaking the boots he had on. "ríða, ríða, ríða!"
Their house, by the gods, there was water everywhere. All he could think of was how the lady next door had asked him if flooding had happened in their home. Water belongs in the river and now their home was a river.
He left the door hanging open and turned running as fast as his legs would take him, it had been a long while since he really utilized his speed. His brawl with Snake had been his last true burst of speed. Now he was running down the streets of this strange new land for the inn. Jo was usually there, if not Jo, maybe Kate would know. He came through the door fast sliding to a stop. "Jo!" he called out, the shock and concern all over his house. "House! The house is a river!" He forgot the word that their kind neighbor Peggy had used. He did not recall flood in English.
Closed to Kol
Awhile later Thorfinn was hauling things out of the saturated house. Mostly their personal effects. His carvings and soaked clothes. He was grumbling under his breath in Norse the whole while. The anger and stress showed in his shoulders and grit teeth. He wasn't even trying to hide his displeasure at the situation.
He couldn't help but think of their neighbor and her wet rugs. That would have been much better than their home turning into a river while they were both out to stop it from happening. Not that he understood it much anyway. Still every now and then he would stop and look at Jo. Jo understood more of what this meant than he did. Just was the one who kept him from slipping over to the darker side that hide in the shadows. A side of himself he though was buried, but clearly wasn't. Standing in the middle of their soaked yard he shook his head after a second.
"We will be good." He muttered walking past her to go back inside to gather more things to bring out to the streets. He didn't know what the plan was after that.
no subject
His bag he had left on the porch had already washed down into the yard. It was a good thing it was water proof but still, the fact it had floated down so far already made him sigh moving, more splashing through the yard to snatch it up and he turned throwing it into the street a little harder than intended. Better to get it out of the water when his catch for their dinner was in there.
"Careful Jo!" He called after her, sloshing up after her now. He had not gotten far inside himself, he hadn't tried. Now with the door open and her going in he followed stomping through the water.
no subject
It's everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Chills are going up her skin as the water soaks up her clothes, gets kicked up and keeps roaring out their door like someone had turned on a hose. When everything is how and an attempt to keep her thoughts while, also, keeping her balance. The flat porch is easier and harder. The door opening is just another kick in the stomach. It's everywhere. The wetness feels like it's filled the air, and it's rolled, pooled, at least an inch deep everywhere she can see.
Worse. So much worse it's gushing down the stairs. That's where it's coming from above them. "It's coming from up there."
Her voice is too high and the stairs are a river of their own. Tumbling, little rapid, waterfalls from step to step. When she left this morning it was just a house. Just a place where she laid down her head and stored her crap, and somewhere, somewhere, that was a lie. Because she feels slammed through with a fist, or a blade of some kind. Punched in and ripped out, blood still dripping. Lungs punctured.
Not giving in or up, when she's headed for the other stairs. The only things she even owns are in a bag in the bedroom up there.
They took everything else. Her Dad's knife. River's bracelet. Jack's hat. Jo hates the fear they've taken everything she gathered, too.
no subject
"No good." He spoke almost defeated. This place had become home. He wasn't sure what to do, so he looked to Jo. Part of him wanted to try and jump up to the top of the stairs, but he knew it was too high without having something to bounce off of.
"Careful!"
He called after Jo moving after her, carefully and slowly up the gushing steps. Worried about stepping through the wood with that much water soaked in it. He knew their important things were up there. His clothes. His carvings.... This was terrible.
no subject
Water. There's water everywhere. She hasn't seen this much water since that week it wouldn't stop pouring in Medietas. It's a strange collaterally violent bounce to hear Thorfinn's voice and know he's right behind her, the same as he was with her then, but not the same. Never the same. She knows that. Yet it's more visceral a feeling now, since the meeting, since realizing he's as green as all the rest, just like she was an idiot, and because of all the fucking water everywhere all around them.
The floor creaks and gives in spots, too soft to feel like ground. Furniture is already soaked up a few inches. But she can't let it stop her. No more than Thorfinn's second choice of shouting that word at her, like he hasn't learned anything in the four months he's known her. Careful is not a grace she was given. Especially not in places like this. Not even when she slides on a step she takes too fast and has to catch herself hard with a shoulder against a wall, swearing at a burst of pain.
no subject
"Jo!" He called out when she hit her shoulder against the wall he tried to move up after her but he could see if, if he got to close one of them was falling through the steps. It wasn't smart so he stayed by the railing and kept moving up through the water. The water soaking him up to the knees as it rushed by.
no subject
Even when she's gritting through a flash of pain and a wash of stars, chilled in her blood by the water still splashing down her calves, ankles, into her boots and fill them around her feet, she's swearing hotly, yelling at herself in her head to get up right back. That it's just a miracle she didn't actually fall back down the staircase itself. She pushed off the wall, shoulder throbbing and chest feeling solidly jarred. Like it was still vibrating with the impact, or the confusion of it.
She let her hand stay on the wall, hugging that side of the staircase, feeling the bend and bow of the wood under the stairs under even her slight weight. Having small wobbles that weren't slips as bad as that other one, when it seemed like the water was harder and faster up here. Gushing for all its worth. "Where the fuck is this even coming from? The bathroom?"
Not that she thought there was really anywhere else up here it could be coming from. It just seemed insane to think about the bathroom, inert and quiet and barely ever used, except evenings and midnights, showers and finger toothbrushing and using the toliet, having this kind of force in it.
no subject
He moved until he reached the top of the stairs, holding his hand out to her. She was always most important. And, another important thing, she'd be the only one to be able to shut it off. He could only work the taps because of Gabriel and Derek old memories, but this kind of water... he needed Jo.
"Yes, must come from water room." He spoke, holding the hand to her still, wanting to help her up if he could. This was no worse than moving through frigid rivers. "How we stop it?" He asked feeling the floor groan under his weight, he moved just a bit worried the soft wood would give way.