Jo Harvelle runs on 100 proof attitude power (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tobeclosetohim) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-07-27 03:18 pm
tobeclosetohim) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-07-27 03:18 pm
004 { A life you don't live is still lost
WHO: Jo & THE COMMUNITY AT LARGE
WHERE: The Pub & Inn
WHEN: July 27th, Midday through Night
OPEN TO:Everyone was invited personally
WARNINGS: Jo's Better At This Than She Means To Be
STATUS: Open To All; Threads w/ Jo, w/ Others & Threadjacking Welcome
Jo told everyone she saw yesterday to come by the Inn & Pub today.
Anytime after midday, and to pass on the message to anyone and everyone else they saw. That it wasn't a meeting per say so much as something everyone was going to need everyone's help with and something everyone should probably get in on. But without clarifying much else.
She spent the rest of yesterday stealing nearly a half dozen curtains from houses that hadn't been claimed by anyone, and then acquiring enough charcoal to fill two small baskets. It's not paper and pens or pencils but it's going to have to do until someone has a better idea or finds better supplies.
The morning of the 27th, Thorfinn helps her get them tacked to two different walls of the main room of Inn & Pub using her knives to cut holes and then sharpened bones, from earlier meals in the month that she hadn't been aware had been saved even, banged into the wall to make them hold high and sturdy enough.
On one side of the room, three curtains line the wall and it says at the high top MAP & LANDMARKS. In the center most piece there are sketched bits for the buildings they can all recognize, the center most being the fountain, and in the distance the river, certain bits of forest, canyon wall, but there's a lot of white space in every other direction, too.
On the other side of the room, one curtain goes up, marked only at the top with FOR TRADE. For the moment that one is entirely blank, but sooner or later she going to end up writing Fresh Meat, with her name and Thorfinn's next to it. There's a second curtain for that wall folded behind the bar, for when and if it's needed.
For now Jo's sitting on a table, again, feet on a chair, elbows on her knees, hair loose on her shoulders, looking at the maps' ocean of white, waiting to see what else might get filled in by those who show up today. Or at least having a better idea of where they should still be looking that hasn't been covered half a dozen times already by everyone else.
WHERE: The Pub & Inn
WHEN: July 27th, Midday through Night
OPEN TO:Everyone was invited personally
WARNINGS: Jo's Better At This Than She Means To Be
STATUS: Open To All; Threads w/ Jo, w/ Others & Threadjacking Welcome
Jo told everyone she saw yesterday to come by the Inn & Pub today.
Anytime after midday, and to pass on the message to anyone and everyone else they saw. That it wasn't a meeting per say so much as something everyone was going to need everyone's help with and something everyone should probably get in on. But without clarifying much else.
She spent the rest of yesterday stealing nearly a half dozen curtains from houses that hadn't been claimed by anyone, and then acquiring enough charcoal to fill two small baskets. It's not paper and pens or pencils but it's going to have to do until someone has a better idea or finds better supplies.
The morning of the 27th, Thorfinn helps her get them tacked to two different walls of the main room of Inn & Pub using her knives to cut holes and then sharpened bones, from earlier meals in the month that she hadn't been aware had been saved even, banged into the wall to make them hold high and sturdy enough.
On one side of the room, three curtains line the wall and it says at the high top MAP & LANDMARKS. In the center most piece there are sketched bits for the buildings they can all recognize, the center most being the fountain, and in the distance the river, certain bits of forest, canyon wall, but there's a lot of white space in every other direction, too.
On the other side of the room, one curtain goes up, marked only at the top with FOR TRADE. For the moment that one is entirely blank, but sooner or later she going to end up writing Fresh Meat, with her name and Thorfinn's next to it. There's a second curtain for that wall folded behind the bar, for when and if it's needed.
For now Jo's sitting on a table, again, feet on a chair, elbows on her knees, hair loose on her shoulders, looking at the maps' ocean of white, waiting to see what else might get filled in by those who show up today. Or at least having a better idea of where they should still be looking that hasn't been covered half a dozen times already by everyone else.
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If he planned to keep sitting he had to offer a seat to the other, Norse were big on hospitality. Despite how hard he looked, Thorfinn had changed on the inside but his scars were the past he hoped to out run. To eventually settle in Vinland and make a hopeful place for the outcasts of his society.
He nodded to the other when he confirmed what Thorfinn suspected, that accent, it felt like one he should know, but he couldn't place it. He had traveled a lot in his younger years and the world had changed much in the thousand years since then. "No English." he replied with a shake of his head. These words he found himself repeating more and more. "I learn." He motioned to himself as he spoke the words. It wasn't easy recalling the new words but he was doing his best. He wanted to make Jo proud and be able to communicate.
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Resisting the urge to look longingly at the knife the man set down like a dog missing its favorite toy, Jess took a chair and pulled it out, moving it around so that they were almost sitting side by side and Jess could keep his view of the room without putting his back to the door. Habit.
The way the other man's accent wrapped around the vowels brought Helva to mind. He hadn't thought about his Scandinavian squadmate in a while, but over the months of their training Jess had heard her lapse into her native language a few times. Their accents sounded similar, he thought. What country was she from? Now that it crossed his mind, Jess wasn't sure she'd ever mentioned it.
Hazarding a guess, Jess said, "Svenska?" He vaguely remembered that was the word for "Swedish," though his accent was probably atrocious.
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Thorfinn was watching the other's movement's and the way he set his chair, a knowing look crossed his features. Oh he remembered that, hell he still does that at times. When he ran with the horde he almost never turned his back to a door unless he had no choice, or wanted to look utterly confident. The movement alone gave him an idea, but not one he could ask.
"Sænska?" Thorfinn repeated what he assumed the other was saying, he's heard a lot of bad accents in his day, he could mostly work though them. After a second he shook his head some. "No, I from Iceland." He knew how to say his home's name in english. He had learned it well enough in his travels.
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"Icelandic, then?" His guess had been close, if you counted being in a completely different geographical area as "close." Hopefully his butchering of the Germanic languages would be forgiven. He was better with Greek and the Romances, but he figured he could scrape together a few Icelandic terms if pressed, assuming the man was a good sport about bumpkins muddling their way through.
But what was a native from Iceland doing here? What were any of them doing here? That was the real question he wanted to ask, even knowing he wouldn't get an answer.
"I'm from England." He gestured to himself as he said it. "I'm Jess."
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"Já Yes. Icelandic." He repeated nodding his head. Icelandic was a off-branch of Romances. He didn't and wouldn't mind any buturing, he just wanted to be able to communicate and his English was bad enough that he would have no right to judge anyway.
When Jess said where he was from Thorfinn straightened his posture and seemed to perk a bit. "England." He repeated the word, it was easier on him, he's spoke it many times. "Ég barðist í orrustunni við London Bridge, undir merkjum konungs Swyen er." As he spoke he lifted his hands as if holding daggers. To mimic his old fighting style. The hand was shifted then to motion to himself. "Thorfinn." He spoke his first name. "Karlsefni." He had only spoken his nickname back home to one other in the village so far, and that was Jo. He was never proud of it, but he figured maybe it would helpful here, to this English boy.
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The show of enthusiastic recognition for his country makes the corner of Jess' mouth curl up a little higher than the other before the man launches into a stream of Icelandic that Jess has to concentrate to catch. Even then, he can only discern one or two words. "London Bridge" leaps out to him for obvious reasons. "You fought at the London Bridge?" he guesses. The pantomiming helps get Jess to that conclusion, honestly.
Had he read about a Thorfinn Karlsefni once? It's possible. Had he had his Codex in hand, it would've taken only a second for him to find the historical figure, but the name stirs a sense of familiarity for another reason. "Of course you'd have Thor in your name." The half-smile becomes a full blown smirk. "It suits."
The fair features, the hair... Jess senses a theme.
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The Thorfinn Karlsefni of the Saga's was mostly known for marrying Leif Erikssons sister in law, leading attempting to colonize Vinland and fathering the first European child in the Americas. He's really not in the saga's as much as his wife would be. The man of the Saga's wasn't exactly the man sitting across from him. Though Thorfinn's dream was Vinland he wasn't exactly that Karlsefni. Different universes and the workings of time.
"All men named Thor." he tried to say, scrunching his face some. "Family. Faðir minn is Thors."
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But since when had any battles been fought at the London Bridge? And involving people from so far north, no less?
"When? When was this?" Jess had a strange feeling about this supposed battle in the middle of Central London where the London Bridge stood as a popular historical landmark. "I think I understand--it's a family name, that it? I was thinking of one Thor in particular. The thunder god. Wields Mjölnir."
It's a blatant cultural stereotype, but it's hard not to think it with Thorfinn looking like part of an old Norse saga with warriors, and giant serpents, and Ragnarok.
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When clicked as Thorfinn had to sit back and think about it. "I..." He lifted his fingers counting silently. He had had to ask his sister just before he arrived here how old he was, he had lost it over the years. "Jeg er toogtyve, slaget skete, da jeg var sytten." He spoke slowly. Then it clicked. "1013" That was the year, it was the year he got assigned to guard Canute and everything went to shit.
Thorfinn nodded to confirm that Jess was right. Though again not all the words connected he knew enough of them at the moment. It was a stereotype but he fit it very well... aside from being short.
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Not for the first time he feels a swell of anger that his belongings had been taken from him without so much as an explanation. If he'd had his Codex, he might not have been able to make out what Thorfinn was saying perfectly, but at least he could've found a translation text and figured out the gist.
At first Jess doesn't understand the significance behind the heavily-accented numbers, but then it clicks that it's a date. Caught off guard, his eyes widen. "1013 CE?" It occurs to him too late that Thorfinn might not understand what he means by Common Era, but his surprise gets the better of him. England had fought many battles, sure, but that had been over a thousand years ago.
Pieces start to click into place. Every aspiring librarian needed to have a thorough knowledge of history, and Wolfe had quizzed them relentlessly on all manner of subjects.
"Sweyn... You meant Sweyn, the Danish king of England?"
Good lord. Peggy hadn't been kidding about people claiming to be from all sorts of places.
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The only text Thorfinn could do was in runes. Shockingly though he could not speak English he could translate runes to English a bit because of his time on Medietas, but it had not really clicked that he could use that to his advantage. "C..E?" He asked with a tip of his head. "No, D?" Again, on Medietas he had learned a jaunty little tune, of letters from a six year old named Cassie Lang, who had been the one to help him learn what his runes meant in her language, besides the device. The device he misses so damn much. He thought that the other boy was speaking that song, but with the numbers which confused him more. World traveling was confusing business.
"Ja! Yes, Sweyn." He narrowed his eyes a bit, he had a lot of anger about that old king. That old king and his son had cost Thorfinn his revenge. Not that Swyen asked for Askeladd to cut his head off. Still, Thorfinn took a breath. "And son, Canute." He motioned to himself. "I friend, of Canute." It was strange, he had only seen Canute maybe a month before he appeared her, before he stepped on Leif's boat and left his life of Slavery behind. Such bad blood had passed between him and the king of both lands, but the fact remained, somehow they were friends.
now made with whole wheat and 10% more correct tense
"I meant Common Era," he clarified once it became clear Thorfinn thought he was skipping letters in the English alphabet. How to put this so he wasn't just blathering off meaningless terms? "'C' stands for Common. 'E' for Era. It's a date. A year. 1013 is a year. Right?"
Jess couldn't possibly begin to see how it could be, but this was the second time someone had given him a number that made him double-take. First Peggy with 1947, and now this. Once is a random happenstance, twice is a pattern.
To tie Jess' brain in a further knot, Thorfinn obviously recognized the historical figures history, except he referenced them from a present point of view, which didn't make any sense considering that had all happened before even the Norman Conquest. But Jess couldn't deny that Thorfinn also obviously had a basic understanding of English. Enough to differentiate between past and present tense. He didn't think he could pin the confusion on a simple mistake of language.
Meaning what? Thorfinn didn't just look like a Viking, he'd been bumming around with them in the eleventh century?
"That happened a long, long time ago. Centuries ago."
But we can keep the cheese, right?
Thorfinn had gotten over the shock of years in Medietas when his gods told him most people came from a thousand years in the future from when he was. His first moments of tasting fear were seeing the wonders of the modern world in that hell before this place, all the split the two worlds in his mind was the four years he spent enslaved. The other world happened before hand, feeling like a dream until he was pulled here.
It was an accurate way of saying it. He had stowed away on a ship at six starting his adventures.
"I know." His English sounded better on those two words. "My time, my people. They dead." It hurt saying it, to know his little niece and his nephews... Einar, his mother, sister, even Thorkell and Canute, they were all dead. Why should he have made it so far? He sat back, visibly upset but he didn't try to say anything else.
Jo refused to stay silent, say sorry.
Nothing save the very small movement that is Jo giving up pretending she's not paying attention just as much to Thorfinn's conversation as she is to everyone hovering in front of her curtains. Yes, she still thinks of the curtains as hers. (Maybe, she still thinks of Thorfinn as hers, too.) But both of those are neither here nor there, and neither of them is the reason that word came out.
Her eyes are on Thorfinn, without even getting to Jesse. "You don't know that."
"We--" She emphasizes the word and gestures between just the two of them. "-don't know that. None of them--" This one a gesture to everyone from Jesse to the rest of the crowd in a sweeping gesture. "--know that. No one can be sure of that. You aren't dead, and it means you might go back again."
It hurts to put that out there so flat, so possible. It's too many words. So many he might not even get what she was trying to say, refusing to let him keep believing, but she hated that tone he'd said that in, and unlike her, he had gone home, for years time between when they'd met on the islands and then again after he came out of the fountain a few weeks ago. There were still chances for him, and all of his people.
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Thorfinn's crestfallen reaction made him feel worse for asking. Loss transcended language and was something everyone could understand, Jess included.
However, before he could apologize for dredging up memories better left alone, the man's companion on the other end of the table made the decision to interject--with a bang like a judge's gavel. Jess watched the exchange in silence, glancing between them. The clear distinction between "us" and "them" was pointed, and Jess knew it wasn't the right time to speak up.
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You don't know that
"Jo, many ages pass." He spoke back, his emotions were always a powder keg, but he had learned over his years to keep them in check. To keep from losing himself to the rage that once ruled him. "No fake hope." He spoke back just defiant. He pouted, the viking pouted like a dejected child sitting back in his chair, mirroring the pissy boy who had demanded mead from her in Medietas, demanding to be treated like a man. That child warrior was still under his skin, just as much as his scars showed for all to see.
Thorfinn unfolded his arms and looked to Jess, motioning to Jo. "This Jo, Jo help, family." As close as he had to family here. He didn't have the faith she did that his family was fine even if he had gone home the wound seemed so much more real here than it ever did in Medietas. "Jo, This Jess, Jess new here." Broken English introductions, at least he tried.
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But she can frown for the moment and be half distracted from proving him wrong -- even if she can't prove herself 100% right either, not in the middle of this place trapped -- and look at the new boy. "Hey."
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Family. Blood relations? Despite their contrasting backgrounds it could be possible with their fair hair, but everything Thorfinn was saying hinted at something else, a different manner of relationship. Jess didn't ask. None of his business.
He nodded at the woman. Given Thorfinn was obviously working to familiarize himself with English, Jess appreciated the attempt at introductions and shot a smile at him. He couldn't even hold it against the guy for slapping the "new" label on him. "Thanks, mate."
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Though they have some traits that could pass for family, even the multiverse wasn't that vast. He had once thought how much the woman looked like his sister, Ylfa. Now he sees Jo as more, she is more than Ylfa, yet he respects her so much. His eyes shift back to Jess. "You Welcome." He responded, so quick to catch on. He crossed his arms now looking to the map. He wasn't sure what else to say, his English was still very broken.
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She wants him to understand, and it's the frustrated anger, with the process more than him, in all of that make her teeth stay closed.
She'll tell him, maybe not again until he does understand. Or maybe she'll have to figure out some way to explain that he will already.
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For Thorfinn's benefit, Jess leaned forward in his chair and pointedly gestured at them, then jerked his thumb at the door, signalling his intention. "Right then. If you two need a minute, I'll get going."
Let it not be said a Brightwell didn't know when to get out while the getting was good.