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[sadandsingle]

I suppose this is a question that has been asked before, but not in my (admittedly brief) time here. I apologise if it's a subject that comes up entirely too often, but it's one that I've been curious about for quite some time now. It's also a delicate topic, I know, so feel free to reply privately if you feel uncomfortable talking about it. Or don't reply at all. That's fine, too.

[It's certainly a difficult subject for her to talk about at times. That's why this is in text, rather than voice or video. But getting to the point...]

Who among the Travellers is dead back home? Not in some nebulous future 'everyone dies eventually' sort of way, but something rather more immediate, in that you died just before coming here. What do you expect will happen when you leave Asgard? Do deceased Travellers simply return to being deceased? Is there some sort of afterlife in your world?

[She remembers all too well Owen and Suzie mentioning the darkness that's all that exists after death. It's something that's kept her up at night more than a few times.]

I don't ask this for the sake of any sort of theological debate, mind, but out of curiosity. I don't personally subscribe to any particular system of belief, but I respect those held by others. I just want to know what you think will happen.

Comments

[needsnoheadsman]

[Westeros is the most fucked-up world tbh but Torchwood's a close second

He listens, and holds his tongue when she mentions that her "boss" brought the man she loved back from the dead, though a part of him can't help but think about wights, about Asgard dragging him (and others as well) back to life more than once. He listens to her tell of how she died, and he can sympathize.]

He died bravely. [Again.] And you as well, my lady. [That's not the most comforting thing to say, but then again he's not exactly equipped for comforting strangers, and he knows that, so he gives a little frustrated breath and tries again:]

He has the right to know of what happened to him, beyond his first death. [And isn't that a strange thing to say still.] And the right to know of what happened to you as well. But--knowing that won't make things easier, or much less complicated. [And here's the sound of fingers tapping on wood, like he's recalling something.] Someone told me, once, to do it slow. Leave room for their questions, were they to ask those.

[In the end he'd gone with just telling them outright, but Fiona's advice still sticks in his head.]