[PK] Everything I saw.

[Cheese 8882]

🎶

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HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN?

It’s so cold.

 

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EYDĺS, but fourteen years old, huddled against the far side of a building. It was cold, and the snowfall was heavy, but at least the wall broke the wind. EYDĺS lost track of the hours–hours?–maybe days, since she had last eaten. It was hard, fending for herself, and it was lonely. No child should’ve had to scavenge for food and brace the freezing weather on their own, but EYDĺS did. It was an abnormality she had grown used to.

 

But then, there was a hand in front of her face. EYDĺS raised her head, bearing a scowl. It had become second nature to her. Just as frigid and bitter as the wind that nipped at her ears, she was prepared to fend off any who dared to disturb her solitude, or the small sanctuary she had carved out of that alleyway. But the face that met her, eyes as blue as ice and contrasting hair that shone like the sun, was friendly. It was kind. Most importantly, however, it was foreign, and EYDĺS recoiled from it. 

 

ÅSMUND, however, was persistent. His cheery demeanor followed EYDĺS like the cold that plagued her, and never quite went away no matter how close she huddled to the warmth of a fireplace. But just like the flames, and perhaps more effective, ÅSMUND began to crack at the walls she had raised so high. Eyerolls of irritation turned to ones of banter. Sarcastic remarks made to push him away turned to lighthearted jests. Every once in a while, EYDĺS even smiled! For the first time, she didn’t feel alone. She didn’t feel cold.

 

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HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN?

It’s so dark.

 

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EYDĺS stirred. She was awake, but when her eyelids fluttered open, nothing changed. It was dark. How many days had it been since she had seen anything? The new world she had learned to navigate was empty; she relied solely on sound and touch to guide her. And ÅSMUND, of course. He had become everything to her: her rock, her lover, her home. Everything she was, everything she had, was because of him. And she could never let him go. How could she, when she would be so lost in the dark world without him?

 

She prayed. Days after days, she prayed. Never had been EYDĺS fervently religious, but to anything that might’ve heard, she pleaded. Return my sight, she begged, just let me see him again. By some miracle, her prayers were answered, and it was returned to her. When EYDĺS opened her eyes, the world was colored. It existed. And at the center of it all, the first thing she laid eyes on, was the husband she had loved so dearly. She saw ÅSMUND, and he was everything.

 

Her sight was still flawed to a degree, but EYDĺS hardly had a care for it. She traversed the land with ÅSMUND. Every beautiful place, she would bring him to it. It would never, could never, hold a candle to the life he breathed into her own world, but that was okay. He would know she loved him. They were happy. They would build a life together; in part surrounded by the warmth of the Hearth in the North, and partially in the vineyard they had nurtured in the Southern lands of Petra.

 

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HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN?

It’s been so long since he’s been home.

 

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Every day, EYDĺS waited. That damned Mountain, it called ÅSMUND to war. EYDĺS hardly had a fear for his safety; he was a Templar, a Berserker of Mikjall. Every time he came home, even if he took too long for her liking, and even if he came home with scrapes and bruises which were even less to her liking. It meant very little though, as EYDĺS was only happy to have her husband back, and ÅSMUND just enjoyed her scoldings and her tending to him.

 

The Mountain neared, though, and anyone would be a fool not to bid it concern. As it descended upon Norland, EYDĺS took to her corner. The great forces of Norland and its allies would fend it off, surely. After a great many days of battle, it did! The allied forces pushed the Mountain back. With great relief that the storm could be weathered longer, EYDĺS came back above ground to find ÅSMUND.

 

Oddly, though, the Norlandic congregation had gathered within the Temple. EYDĺS, so apathetic to death, took to the front of the crowd. The sight that met her, however, was horrific. It was beyond horrific. There weren’t words to explain it. It was ÅSMUND.

 

“NO!” EYDĺS wailed. Tears blurred her vision, and before she knew it, she was running. Towards the pyre. Towards him. In the flames she saw ÅSMUND; his smile was as warm as the fire, and his hand reached out to her. He was calling her to join him; yes, he would never leave her. “DON’T TAKE HIM!”

 

Arms wrapped around EYDĺS, and quickly she was anchored to her spot. She was held back from the fires that separated her from her lifeline. “GET OFF OF ME!” She shrieked, the scream reverberating through the hall. She reached forward again, but this time, she was held back. It wasn’t long before her knees gave out too, and she collapsed to the ground. “ÅSMUND! NO, HE’S MINE– MINE! HE CAN’T LEAVE LIKE THIS! I WON’T LET HIM LEAVE WITHOUT ME!”

 

The screams of EYDĺS carried throughout Norland. “I DON'T WANT HIM TO BE REMEMBERED! I DON'T WANT HIM TO BE A HERO! I WANT HIM!” At the age of twenty-nine, after nine years of marriage, and fourteen years of knowing the man she now called her everything, she had been widowed. She had been abandoned by the world. And after so many years of warmth within ÅSMUND’S arms, the frigid wastelands of Norland were a cold EYDĺS could never describe. It was deeper than the chill in her bones, or the tears that froze to ice on her cheeks. It was an emptiness that would carry even farther than the grave that would surely follow soon for the woman who swore ‘till death do us part.

 

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Spoiler

HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN?

I miss him.

 

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The days trudged by slowly. They all blurred together for EYDĺS. How many days had passed since she last saw ÅSMUND? Too many. That was the only answer. She was kept only alive by the good will of Soren and Veta. But how much longer could she carry on? She never ate, she never slept. Her only thoughts were of ÅSMUND, and more importantly, his absence that was made real by the helmet that EYDĺS carried constantly. It was a dreadful existence, dragging through each day, surviving only because the watchful eyes of others forbade her from anything else.

 

That changed on a particularly snowy day. Orsathiael had been driven back from Norland, but his wrath remained in the freezing winters. It was early; the sun had not yet risen, and neither had Soren or Veta. It was then that EYDĺS’S quiet footsteps crept outside into the ice and snow. They began slowly, weakly, but the further she got from the house, the faster EYDĺS ran.

 

She ran until her legs burned and she couldn’t see where she was. And there, EYDĺS screamed. She wailed to the heavens, begging for her husband, for her ÅSMUND back. But her cries were swallowed by the Northern winds, and her plea was unanswered.

 

Everything she had seen, it all meant nothing without him. It was nothing, for ÅSMUND was all she ever saw. “IS THIS ALL I GET?!” She shrieked to the storm. “I GAVE HIM EVERYTHING! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING?! AND THIS SIGHT– THESE DAMNED EYES ARE SUPPOSED TO MEAN ANYTHING WITHOUT HIM?!” Gruesomely, violently, EYDĺS tore into the sockets of her eyes. Her fingernails shoved into them animalistically, ripping at flesh and nerves and anything else that would extract the porcelain prosthetics that shielded the true source of her sight. Along with them, droplets of blood stained the snow. She collapsed to her knees thereafter, meeting the impurely colored snow with tears that fell from empty and bleeding sockets. The wind laughed– it mocked her pain. It nipped at her ears and dug into her skin until shards of ice cracked open the palms of her hands and her bare feet.

 

For the last time, EYDĺS looked to the sky in desperation. She had been answered once, all those years ago, when she had lost all. And then again, she prayed with a voice raw, “Take me away from here. I can’t– I won’t do this without him any longer. It is hell.” It was then that the cold began to swallow her, and the snow drew her down into a bed of numbness. An embrace so freezing, it memorialized the blood and tears she had spilled in ice.

 

And when EYDĺS awoke next, not in the halls of Valhalla, nor in the realm of Machediael, nor with ÅSMUND, but in the fold of her own nameless, sightless Patron, the Norn truly did realize,

It was hell. And that was eternal.

 

Spoiler

Although she was short-lived, thank you for everybody who made playing Eydís so much fun. Thank you especially to stal who got me to play her, and to all of Norland who welcomed me into their community :) I love y’all <3

 

[scoobi 124]

And then his gaze turned.

The first thing he saw as he turned was Eydís. His gaze softened, wondering how he’d tell his friend the news…

 

But, he didn't have to. 

 

Soren did what he could, kept her from the flames. 

 

He sat beside Eydís, needing no Palmreader to know what lay next.

 

The ice shard began to dig itself into his shoulder, his arm slowly beginning to numb, spreading over his chest.

 

But Soren couldn't move. He couldn't leave her side.

He wouldn’t lose another.

 

At some point, he pulled it out. He doesn't remember when. At some point, he stopped the bleeding. He doesn't remember how. 

 

“Was there nothing else you lived for?”

 

He didn't know why he asked. He already knew the answer.

 

If he didn't leave her side. If he stayed there waiting, perhaps her fate could change. Perhaps there'd be something else for her to hold onto.

 

“Get up.” 

If he left, would the next actions be his fault?

 

“You can't stay there.” 

But he wasn’t left with another option.

 

“Look at her.”

Fine.

 

His eyes met Eydís, his eyes finally realizing her state. How, though he wanted to do something. To give her hope, he couldn’t.
He couldn’t lose another.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊
 

Still, he tried, and he continued to try. To give her a semblance of hope. Anything, really. Spending time with her, involving her in his own family, but it wasn’t the same, nor would it ever be.

 

He finally awoke on that snowy day, his first thoughts ensuring Veta and Njáll were okay, before trudging to Eydís and Åsmund’s home, lightly knocking on the door.

 

It was their routine. He’d knock, make sure she was there, bring her breakfast, and make sure she was okay.

 

But that snowy day was unlike any other.

 

He knocked– to no answer. He knocked, knocked, and knocked, hoping that perhaps she was still asleep. 

But he knew that wasn’t the case.

 

At some point, Veta arrived. And they searched Norland, they searched Sólgaard, for any signs, anything.

And they found it.

 

Soren stared at what remained, the chill clinging to his face, the snow falling onto his lashes.

 

But he didn’t blink, not yet. He didn’t cry either.

He’d already done that, long before she was gone.

 

Because he knew the outcome. Though she never directly said it, he knew. 

 

And he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

 

“You can’t save everyone.”

He hated that phrase. Hated how true it was.

 

“You can’t even save those closest to you.”

But he tried. He still tried.

 

Edited August 3, 2025 by scoobi
im sad now :(

[Sonybut7 530]

 

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THE SNOW FALLS QUIETLY.

 

Not like it did in war, no frantic wind, no blinding flurry. No shrieks carried on the gale or thunder of blades colliding. It fell the way grief does, softly and without fanfare, sifting through every crack of the SOUL until all things beneath it feel still. Still… and hollow.

 

Aegon stood at the edge of a cliffside clearing where the last embers of a campfire clung to life. They sputtered weakly, defiant of the cold that crept in from the north. Behind him, far in the distance in the capital of Norland, the ASHWOOD loomed, silent and thick, carrying ghosts, though not the kind born of magicks, but of memory. Of names now buried beneath snow.

 

He did not kneel this time. His leg, stiff with healing wounds and new scars, would not let him. But more than that, the weight in his chest forbade it. GRIEF had pressed him low once before. Now, it merely steadied him where he stood.

 

The letter had reached him only hours before. Simple words on smudged parchment. A name. A decision. A farewell written not with poetry, but with absence. EYDIS, flame of ASMUND. Gone.

 

AND THE NIGHT TURNS COLDER.

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"First the sword. Now the soul." - "You were his warmth. He was your shield. And when his flame went out, I suppose you thought there was nothing left to hold on to."

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His voice didn’t carry far, not even to the edges of the trees. It wasn’t meant to. This wasn’t a declaration. It was a confession. Aegon remembered the way she had stood beside ASMUND during celebration and more, sharp-eyed, kind, loving, his. How fiercely she could speak, how gently she smiled. A storm wrapped around a hearth.

 

He knew what kind of love that was. And he knew what kind of pain its loss could bring. His voice caught a crack at the edge of composure, and for a moment true silence reigned in the blinded Northman.

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"But I wish you’d held on. I wish you’d seen what he gave HIS LIFE for. What we’re still standing for." - "You gave yourself to the quiet. I don’t blame you. The COLD calls louder when the FIRE feels gone."

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He turned his blinded gaze to the horizon, even though he could not see it, he knew it there, felt it there. Where the faintest light still glimmered, not of the sun, but of torches lit down in the city of VJARDENGRAD, where survivors gathered and tried to name the world again after all that had been taken.

 

A silence followed, not the empty kind, but the full kind, full of the weight of lives shared, of paths crossed and burned.

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"EYDIS. May you find him in the next. May your hands find his, and never let go again."

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The snow touched his brow, melting as it met the warmth of his skin. Still he did not move. Still he stood tall, spine rigid as a spear rooted in frost. He stepped away then, slow and steady. And as he did, the final ember behind him gave one last FLARE, as if in farewell, it died.

But Aegon did not look back. The night was long, but his FIRE still burned.



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[Monty Cobra 921]

Possibly to her chagrin, Njáll had made his affection for Eydís no secret. From the day he had poisoned her with a poorly baked cake and subsequent river water, Eydís had become one of Njáll's favorites. When she entered the tavern the little Norn would brighten, and if she tried to escape him he would chase after her undeterred—like a game. 

 

Until that fateful night, the death of Åsmund. The events of that battle saw Njáll’s jovial nature gone, a glaze to his eyes as he sat before Åsmund’s pyre alongside Eydís, Soren, and Aegon. He had hardly begun to process the loss of one friend when that loss of Eydís came, too—when after futile searching, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told him the truth.

 

Njáll didn’t get to say goodbye, nor even speak to her before she was gone. The offer he had meant to make to the fellow sightless Norn in the absence of her husband would remain forever unsaid.

 

“If you need someone to guide you when you can't see, I'll be here.”

 

[ReverseNebula 373]

Spoiler

 

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Iron from Ice.

That was the Motto so many he knew seemed to call so dutifully, when the times seemed so tough. One to raise morale and bolster their spirits - but now the saying seemed to echo, like the fading beats of a wardrum.

 

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Iron from Ice.

It echoed, once rest had finally come for the dutiful Waldenian, something he’d done his best to stave off ever since they had returned from their journey elsewhere. He hadn’t wished to close his eyes, and retreat into slumber, no. He simply wanted to tell her the news, the possibilities - the hope, he’d been given.

 

Yet it claimed him on the ride back… His eyes felt so heavy.

Was it due the years he’d lost so quickly? His body seemed to tire just a bit quicker, his muscles ached just a bit more - and bones felt just a bit weaker.

 

How much time had he truly lost?

 

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Frozen Still.

His body seemed reluctant to move, when dawn finally beckoned him awake - his routine seemed ill-placed, as if it didn’t fit the age he was. Five more minutes.

 

Just five more, was what he asked of Sissel, despite her incessant push to arise, and so he did, clambering himself upright and to his usual duties - one to cure of Lycanthropy. Hope to bestow upon Eydis. Talks to be had.

 

The day came quickly, started by the sounds of joyous laughter, of kids brimming with innocence, eyes alight with flames that so dutifully wished to learn and grow, unknowing of the world that awaited to claim such a thing.

 

Then came the woman, a Silasian who Ragin had swore to aid, to cure her of the curse passed on by her Mother, and even that was a taxing process - the travel wasn’t light, nor were the seas as they ferried towards Neveahlen - his doubts had almost brewed, but finally he had been successful, A light within the dark.

 

A Soul Saved.

 

The journey back was swift, and decisive. Ever since Asmund had died, and Ragin lost thirty years, he had a sign of hope, that brandished elsewhere and not just upon words he’d been given, from a stranger so far away.

 

His footsteps into the town were filled with jest, from the woman whose fate had altered, because of him.

 

A laugh turned into a call, a singular cry for Veta, so that the newly healthy could be double-checked… Yet the news it brought, it couldn’t’ve have been coincidence, perhaps it was the way that Daemon toyed with him, for her words were soft and brimming with sorrow.

 

Eydis was DEAD.

What?

ĐɆ₳Đ.

How?

 

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Iron from Ice.

Ragin hadn’t asked much more, he didn’t even truly await an explanation for his thoughts filled in the gaps. He had heard her wails, when his sleep had claimed him, when his body tried to recover from the turmoil it’d undergone.

 

Why was it another had been snuffed out?

A stupid question, another one laddened on the mind of a man in grief that he refused to show outside of the occasional doubts of why he remained.

 

Would Sissel have done the same?

Another rancid thought, for a mind laddened with despair.

 

Why?...

 

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Raginolf had grown tired of the question his mind always repeated.

He’d grown tired of doubting.

Of Inaction.

Of Despair.

 

“It took time from me, it tried to freeze me in it. Torture me. NO MORE.”

 

A singular gaze, to a flame of orange, amidst a desolate wasteland of white snow, and seared trees.

 

“They need hope, and yet I stand - so let me instill it.”

“Let me be their LIGHT.”

A quiet prayer, a solemn request, to a deity whose blessing had been entrusted unto him.

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ᛚᛖᛏ ᛗᛁ ᛚᛁᚷᚻᛏ ᛋᚻᚪᛏᛏᛖᚱ ᚦᛖᛁᚱ ᛞᚪᚱᚳᚾᛖᛋᛋ.
Let my light shatter their darkness.

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[xDisarray 552]

reserved

[Otakuu 128]

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Fey stood in the morgue of the unstable building. She along with her friend, Aegon, had gone to retrieve Eydis from the cold. It was a sad sight, to see one having given up on life after a loss such as this.

 

Disappointed as she was, she understood. She hadn't known Eydis, she merely heard of her. The wife of her dear friend, Asmund.

 

She questioned the woman within her own mind.

 

Is this what he would have wanted for you?

 

Fey then shook her head. It was too late for questions. The woman was deceased, her soul having passed along, long before she even found her.

 

With a sigh, she spun around and walked out of the morgue.

 

Endurance is the fire that doesn't roar, but still burns long after the world expects you to fade.

 

It was a shame that Eydis couldn't endure this...

 

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[TaraJess 2848]

A dream came to Mallory one night. A replayed memory. A silly moment caught in time from her childhood, as she jumped on some random blind woman, and knocked her down the stairs. She was okay thankfully, but little Mallory laughed and giggled with glee while the woman scolded her.

Mallory woke in the middle of the night and stared at the grandfather clock. The sun had not yet come out, but it was far past midnight on her 17th birthday. She sat up in her bed as the dream slowly drained from her memory. In that quiet moment, she pondered the state of that woman from all those years ago, how she was doing, where she could be in that moment. Surely, she was somewhere, warm in her bed with the person she loved, and a family having their own dreams at that moment.