oo1 || Video

[thralls]

[When the video kicks on, Athelstan is in the middle of scrambling backward, his fingers closing around the axe in his belt. The hovering touchscreen, of course, follows him back and he instinctively slashes out at the hologram as it chases him through the room.

Through sheer dumb luck, he manages to hit the button that halts the screen's movement so it stops advancing on him, and after a few moments of sitting on the floor, staring in terror at the bright screen that seemed to appear out of nowhere, Athelstan pulls himself up on his elbows and takes a deep breath.]

Deus meus.

[The Latin is deliberate, and it takes him a few more moments to actually calm down and approach the recording screen again.]

This is... used to communicate? [It's an interesting enough contraption, and his brows furrow a little, reaching out a tentative hand to touch the hologram, head tilted as it makes the screen flicker before him.] With no ink or parchment... fascinating. You others with this ring, you can hear my voice through this? As if I were next to you?

[He grasps the concept quickly enough, it seems, and pokes a little more at the screen, widening and shortening it in turn.]

I... I am Athelstan, a follower of your god Odin. I did not expect to find Valhalla so soon into my days- [or at all, really...] -but as I am here now, I suppose I must offer myself to the service of the gods. If anyone can help me... the magic of Asgard is something I have never experienced before. I am unfamiliar with many things in this land. As a matter of fact, I-

[Aaand he manages to shut the recording off in mid-sentence. Go figure.

Help?]

[[ooc: intro is backdated just a bit to before the flood! :o]]

Comments

[text]

[proudofwhatiam]

Suscipiat ad Asgard.

[text]

[thralls]

Te monachus?

You speak the language of the lord.

[proudofwhatiam]

Non certe.

I speak the language of the Romans, sir. My name is Evelyn Carnahan.

[thralls]

Ah. A scholar then?

I've already introduced myself, but I am honored to meet you.

[proudofwhatiam]

Sic. A librarian, lately, and here, a teacher.

Likewise. I don't think I've met anyone who worshipped Odin before coming to this place.

[thralls]

I am from the North. Everyone worships Odin and his kin where I am from.

[There might be the slightest twinge of regret at writing that, but for all intents and purposes, it's true.]

I have seen the gods work their ways in my land, though I have never experienced anything such as this. Have you all died in battle?

[proudofwhatiam]

Do you know the year where you come from?

[Call it curiosity. And it's rather easier to ask than to try to answer his question in turn. Evy winces back from it without thinking, if only for a moment.]

No. We haven't.

[thralls]

The year?

[He hasn't really paid much attention to that in quite some time- the Northmen didn't abide by the anno domini timekeeping, and so Athelstan takes a moment to try and remember when his last writing was back in Lindisfarne, and add up all the years it's been since then.

It's harder than it should be.]

The Christians would state that it is the year 799 I believe. Or 800. I have lost count.

Then how do you reside in Asgard?

[proudofwhatiam]

[...Well, that explains a great deal, doesn't it?

I think you'll find that you are from a time well in the past compared to most of the Travelers here. I came to Asgard from the year 1926, by the Christians' calendar.

[Might as well use his phrasing. This all must be a great shock.]

It might be best to think of this place as a different Asgard than the one you were promised. The gods brought us here to fight for them; they didn't worry about only choosing the dead.

I hope you'll forgive my curiosity, but does this mean you're a Viking?

[thralls]

...that is a significant amount of time.

[Over a thousand seasons... Athelstan can't even begin to imagine. How can humanity exist so far ahead? How many sons of sons of sons would that even be?

Aaaand he's not touching that second part with a ten foot pole. Yet. Athelstan has enough crisis' of faith as it is already.]

A vikingr? [The use of the language is somewhat confusing, but he gets the implication.] I recently became free but I do not know if I am considered vikingr. My old master was, I suppose.

[proudofwhatiam]

Yes, it is. I'm afraid we thought of your time as ancient history when I was a schoolgirl.

[Poor fellow. Evy suspects it's best not to mention that until his arrival, she felt rather behind the times; the centuries that separate them are likely vast enough.

Unfortunately for both of them, she doesn't know much about the world from which Athelstan comes. She'd had to review her Norse gods when she came here--while she still remembers her English history, she's at sea when it comes to vikingr culture.]

But you live among them? Were you a slave?

[thralls]

[Ancient history... that sort of deflates him a little. Not that Athelstan places a great importance on his time period, but the idea that all of their struggles, the apocalyptic happenings of the last few years being nothing but a drop against humanity... he doesn't know how to react to that.]

I was a monk once. In Lindisfarne. [Which is... rather famous, if not world renowned. The very first place in England to be raided, the entire holy island robbed and pillaged blind.] When the Northmen came, they took me with them as a thrall. Or... I suppose you would call it a slave, yes.

It has been a long time since I have been Christian but I still remember how to read and write and count the years. I was taken in the year 793 of the Christian lord.

Ragnar- my master- freed me in gratitude after I saved his life during our raid. He gave me an arm ring and named me a man. That is what I am now.

[proudofwhatiam]

[The name "Lindisfarne" strikes a vague chord in her, but it doesn't have the recognition he might hope for. She was always much more interested in the history of her mother's land, rather than her father's--and at the moment, she can feel that deficit.

She chooses her words carefully, uncertain quite what she ought to say.]

It sounds like you've had quite the eventful life. Perhaps sometime you could tell me more about it; I'd be interested to hear about your experiences with the vikingr.

Is there anything I can tell you? This must seem very [strange, different, overwhelming] new.

[thralls]

I suppose it would seem rude if I simply said 'everything'.

[He's still got a bit of a sense of humor. Sort of.]

May we begin with the things in our homes? There is a large chest in the cooking area and it seems to be filled with some sort of hive. I can hear it buzzing when I am nearby.

[That's definitely the most pressing thing at the moment, since Sophie already explained the lightning-cased-glass keeping the rooms alight.]

[proudofwhatiam]

I couldn't blame you if you did. Much of the technology here is well beyond what I had at home, too.

Is it the ice box? [Wow, that's not going to help him at all. Rephrase.] Is it tall? Does it have a door at the front?

[thralls]

Is this a door? I

[There's a pause here because it's totally a door.]

...there is nothing living inside. Just strange objects.

Is this... food?

[HELP HIM EVIE YOU'RE HIS ONLY HOPE.]

[proudofwhatiam]

Is it cold inside? If it is, you've found the icebox. Food that might spoil goes in there: meat, fruit, vegetables, milk, and so on.

[She pauses, considering. Trying to explain things using text is rather difficult when she hasn't a clue what he's looking at.]

If it would help, I could come by and show you in person.

[thralls]

It's somewhat cold, yes.

[Athelstan has to sigh at that, a little disheartened.]

Only if you don't mind.

I feel slighted, in a way. This magic is all so interesting, but it is clear that some of the others think me touched for failing to grasp the purpose or workings of it.

It's not a feeling I am accustomed to. [Being one of the most educated people in hundreds of miles and going to this kind of sucks.]

[proudofwhatiam]

I don't mind. Which house are you in?

It's a difficult adjustment when one first arrives; I felt a bit similarly. You'll catch up quickly, though. You've already figured out the bracelet, and the rest will come soon enough.

[thralls]

The goddess Sigyn has bound me to her. I have entered a door marked '101' in her great hall.

Thank you for the encouragement. I've adapted to a new land and a new culture before but its nothing like this.

[text > action]

[proudofwhatiam]

I'll be there soon.

No, I suppose it wouldn't be. I don't think any of us knew what to expect when we were brought here.

[Once she's finished sending the message, she puts on a wide-brimmed hat and starts walking towards Sigyn House. Athelstan's room would be easy enough to find, even if it weren't the first in the house; it's near to the rooms of several of her friends.

She raps lightly at his door when she reaches it.]

Athelstan?

[action]

[thralls]

Lady Evelyn.

[He opens the door a hair and- well, looks are basically what she might expect. He's shorter, more wiry than a stereotypical viking may be, but he certainly dresses the part, and the axe on his belt isn't quite for show. It really does seem hard to believe that he could have been a monk, but stranger things have happened.]

Forgive me for the state of the room. [When he lets her in, it's rather obvious to see why he asks. The clock on the wall has been pried apart with a knife, and pieces of it lay strewn over the table. Some of the appliances made it out okay, but some- like the unfortunate microwave- now suffer from a case of 'probably-been-hit-with-an-axe' syndrome.

In his defense, the beeping was terrifying.]

[proudofwhatiam]

Just 'Evelyn' is fine.

[Evy gives him a little smile. After all, he's merely Athelstan; she doesn't think she can fairly expect him to call her 'Miss Carnahan.'

He might not be especially tall, but he still has several inches on her, and with that axe of his, he is a little intimidating. But he's been anything but frightening over the network--and should worst come to worst, she supposes she can try to escape into Will's room. Given the circumstances, she doubts Will would mind.

When she walks in, her eyes go wide. It certainly looks as though a Viking's been raiding the place.]

Oh--um. [Say something nice, Evy, don't be cruel to the poor fellow.] Well. It seems you've made yourself at home. Where shall we begin?

[thralls]

[He nods and steps back, allowing her to sort of take in the place. It's not ransacked, exactly, but he definitely hasn't been gentle with it. Most of the violence has been through fear- but he doesn't want to tell that to a stranger.]

Here- this thing was making sounds when I came in. [He moves to the shoddily-disassembled clock, holding up the face for her to see.] Like: tk tk tk. I thought there may have been a locust inside, but there is nothing but this odd intricate steel. You see?

[He holds up a cog for her to see next- completely harmless, more curious than anything.]

[proudofwhatiam]

[Evy nods, taking the cog from him. Her first thought is there've been shortages lately, I hope we can replace all this--but perhaps someone can put it back together as it was. She certainly can't.]

It's a clock. Well--[she gestures to the whole of it]--that is. It keeps the time. Ticks every second.

[Does he have a concept of seconds? She's not sure.]

You measured things in hours when you were a monk, didn't you? Did you use minutes as well? Seconds?