Arrival: A new land

[seekingvinland]

WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE:  The Fountain
WHEN: July 13th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Closed

---

It's another nightmare.

It was the first thought that crossed his mind when he felt the water around him and his eyes flew open. He needed air… Dream or not, Thorfinn had little choice but to push up towards the light in the distance. Swimming was always one of his strong points. Kicking as hard as he could for the surface as his lungs started to burn desperately needing air. When Thorfinn came bursting through the water his scarred hands grabbed onto the edge of the fountain. Coughing heavily as he heaved himself over the edge onto the ground.

This was the strangest dream he had ever had… Well, kind of.

It took a few moments of coughing to get the water out of his lungs before he could breath. Pushing himself onto his hands and knees and sitting back his long blonde hair plastering to his face. He his eyes widened as he looked around him. Something akin to fear started to fill his senses… This wasn't the bodies of the dead, this wasn't his father or Askeladd. This wasn't a dream.

From the way the air felt on his wet skin, to the strange ground beneath his hands biting into his palms. It all screamed reality. It was no dream.

"Móðir! Einar! Ylfa!"

He called out the names of those who had been in the house when he had slipped to sleep. His instincts seemed to finally catch up with him as he pushed himself to his feet. He was in strange shoes he had never seen before. Clothes like those almost from a dream. A dream that he had long forgotten. One of strange islands in the sky connected by small bifrosts. He stood there examining the strange light gray clothing on him. Confused and soaked to the bone.

"Hvað er þetta? Hvar er ég? Odin, gefa mér merki."

Comments

[tobeclosetohim]

She doesn't answer and she doesn't cup his cheek. Her thumb rests against his cheek, and her first two fingers, on their side, catch under that side of his jaw. She doesn't stroke the scar there under the pad of her thumb. Her face doesn't even soften at first. She tilts his face, to the right and then to the left, in the same position she's held far too many men's faces to count, when looking to make sure if a far too good shiner did or didn't need stitches.

The shape of his face is right. The color of his eyes is right. The scars are right.

But, also. There are more of them. There's a section of his ear missing. His hair is longer.
Even the way he looks sad for the second instead of angry, that's different. That's new, too.

But. She looks at his face again, and then finally settles on those eyes: sad, confused, but comforted. "It is you, isn't it?"
That should be impossible. She knows how these things work. Anna was an outlier, but from her world, her time. Thorfinn wasn't.


And if it really wasn't him? He should go for it now. She'd rather figure out how to shoot him in the face right now, than anytime later.

[seekingvinland]

Thorfinn had felt a motion like this just a day or so before. The hands of his mother holding his face, looking him over. Looking and finding his father in his eyes. He had inherited his father's mysterious light in his eyes. The same light that Thorkell had once taunted him for lacking. Somewhere in his pain he had found the resolve, the realization of why his father hated that life he once so coveted. The life that now turned his stomach to think about.

Like with his mother, he did not fight Jo in this. He even helped tip his face and let her look. Being closer he could see the differences now that before he had been to far from home to see, she was smaller than Ylfa. Her hair had a darker hint of blonde than Ylfa as well... but yes, they were still so alike. Beautiful and strong.

"Jo Har...velle." The last name tripped on his tongue a bit. The first time he had spoke it in the Roadhouse asking her about the name had been a heavy weight, now it was harder to say, but important. He had to try and dig into a dream, a dream from years and years ago. Nothing at all was making sense and his resolve was all that kept him still. "Thorfinn Thorsson....Karlsfeni." He didn't need translating for that, her tone, her look they did it for him. He gave his name, the only thing he really had besides his life he didn't know what else he could do and that alone hurt.

[tobeclosetohim]

There's a sigh out her nose. Because that's just perfect, isn't it. Again. A-fucking-gain. Turning the whole things on it's head once more. Making it so it wasn't impossible. Somehow. Someway. Someone she knew. Once upon a time. When they were someone else. And dropping them in her lap. But making it impossible in a new way. All communication all but lacking. Why was there never anyone to punch or stab or shoot for these things.

The way they made her want to knit her teeth, clench her jaw and left her with nothing but to sigh. "Yeah."

Releasing his face with more care than she usually showed touching anything. "Yeah, that's me, and that's you."

Muttering, as she looked at the fountain, while rubbing the water off her hands, from his skin and dripping hair, onto her white tank top and the top of her black scrubs pants. "That's us, all rolled up and fucked sideways in this mess. Again. But with even more perks." She looked up, and over at him again, thinking about what the hell to do. She couldn't leave him here, and he was hardly going to understand her, even though he seemed to recognize her. Maybe even trust her.

"I guess I can't let you go now, can I?" Jo considered holding out a hand, but that seemed almost wrong.
Too much like relegating him to being a child, who needed to be lead. He wasn't dumb. They just couldn't talk.

She raised a hand and waved for him to follow. "C'mon. I'll show you where I'm staying." Where he could stay if he wanted.
Not that any of her thoughts, nor any of her words, were probably helping, except to sound like endless gibberish tossed at him.

[seekingvinland]

Thorfinn might have argued he was dumb, but that was a recent thing. He thought down on himself a lot for not being the most intellgent man. His skills were lacking where othrs his age would have vastly more. His intellgence laid in battle, battles he no longer wanted to fight.

Still, he appreciated not being treated like a child. He had hated that even when he was a child. Language barriers were nothing new to him, just another annoyance... but one he could deal with to have a familiar face near by. When she lifted her hand and waved for him to follow, he did just that.

He used to move so silently, but the new boots felt strange on his feet. He moved a bit uneven, his steps a little louder, the steps of a man who had never wore boots like these before. They felt nearly like armor and had it a little harder to move the way he was used to, and yet he followed along anyway. His fingers messing with the straps of the pack on his back. It was nothing like his old satchel but he was less concerned with it than the buildings coming into sight, and following the head of blonde hair before him.

While he only understood one in ever four or five words Jo was saying, the sound of her voice was a comfort enough. She was an old hand at this other worlds confusion, they would find a way.