Because y'see, when your characters have become real, when you know them well, they come alive.
Not quite literally, but just as well as. I have a posse of several who hang around me: Rayle, Loki, Kos, Leif, Shalizar. Occasionally Hela, Truman, and others pop up for a moment. They talk to me, and I talk back. Loki offers snarky commentary on life. Leif hangs around and ridicules me. Rayle attempts to break the fourth wall and steal things from me.
They aren't really there, I know, but if I look hard enough, I can see them. I know them inside and out, and I know that in a particular situation they would be standing there and looking like so and when I talk to them, I know them well enough to know their response so that they can talk to me.
Maybe because it's also that every one of them has a piece of me at their core. Kos is my quiet, capable side. Loki is my snarky devil-may-care side. Rayle is my kleptomaniacal side (I steal things of no value from my family constantly, and I've actually forgotten I was holding things and walked out of stores with them. o.O). Shalizar is my apathetic who-cares side. I know me, and I know them.
It's not quite the same as having real friends.
But there's something magical about talking to them.
And have a dose of writing.
ASGARD AND OLYMPUS, CHAPTER THREE
The rest of the Æsir clear out, presumably to get ready for their turn on the battlefield. Hela notices a lot of Valkyries saddling their horses to follow Odin (it is a Valkyrie’s job to bring fallen warriors back to Valhalla, so they have to be on hand for a battle).
She idly (and not a little morbidly) considers what might happen to one of the Æsir, should they die in battle. Will they be taken by the Valkyries back to Valhalla to fight every day and drink themselves silly every night until Ragnarok, the end of the world? Or will they be left to wander in Helheim, her own realm, until the same date?
Neither fate seems particularly fitting for an Ás, and Hela decides that this line of thinking is entirely too morbid for a fine summer afternoon like this one. In an effort to make conversation with the Olympian still standing beside her, she says the first thing that comes into her head.
“The Æsir are eager to show the Olympians what real warriors are like…”
Hela feels this comment is random and yet relevant at the same time, and wishes she could turn back time to make a more intelligent comment that’s all the way relevant without the additional randomness.
Abderus grimaces. “They can’t win whatever battle they’re fighting if they’re too busy showing off.”
Hela nods. This threat (and what an abstract thing to call it; the name implies something so vague, so unknown, it hardly inspires fear or a desire to act) is likely more serious than the Æsir think it will be, judging from Thor’s over-eager expression and Odin’s speech.
Ares storms past them from out of the forest, muttering to himself. Hela catches a few scattered words: “Bloody Æsir…leaving me behind…how do you work a rainbow anyways…” and has to smother a giggle. Abderus (miraculously) to keep a straight face, and the minute Ares has absorbed himself yelling at Heimdallr the Gatekeeper, Hela lets herself laugh.
(Nobody is taking this seriously enough, not even her.)
-------------------------“Ten pounds of silver says Ares comes back with more injuries from Thor than from dragons,” Loki says with a grin.
“Ah ah ah. Ten pounds says Thor comes back with more injuries from Ares!” Hermes grins back, flipping a silver coin into the air.
“You’re betting over this?” Hela sighs.
They ignore her. “Not a chance, Featherfoot. Ares won’t be able to touch Thor.”
“I had no idea you had such a high opinion of Thor and his prowess!”
“More like a healthy respect based on all the times he’s clocked me.” Loki smirks.
“I smell a story, probably ending in you getting the short end of the stick.”
“I hate to brag…but I do believe I’ve gotten into more disagreements with Thor than the rest of the Æsir combined.”
Oh, Ás. Hela brings her palm to her face. (She really should have expected this sort of thing, but it’s still ridiculous.) Really, nobody is taking these battles seriously, at all.
“I’ll be out with Jormungand, Father,” she says over their argument (she’s no longer really listening but she thinks Hermes is trying to make a case for Freya having quite a few disagreements with Thor under her belt).
Loki glances at her from his seat on a bench against the wall. Hermes is sitting on a stool about a foot away from him, playing with coins. “You need to tell me where you’re going all the time? That’s new.”
She rolls her eyes; technically yes, he’s right, she’s centuries old and she no longer needs her dad’s permission to go somewhere, but… “I was under the impression it’s polite to keep your host informed of where their guest is. But of course I could stop.” Hela shrugs.
“You do as you like, your Majesty,” Loki grins.
“Oh, stop it. You have got to be the most…” She’s not sure which adjective to use to describe Loki. Infuriating? Immature?
He answers her before she can decide. “God of Mischief, Hela. See you later.”
“See you.” She pauses at the door and says, “I bet you both twenty pounds of silver they come home equally injured.”
Hela hears fresh debate over this break out as she leaves and tries not to sigh. Trickster gods.
----------------------------Thor trounced the Jotuns in Midgard, easily. There are still unexplained scorch marks in Russia from when Thor used Mjollnir to call down lightning and incinerate the bodies. The god of thunder fought alone on Midgard, while the rest of the Æsir scattered in groups of four or five across the Nine Worlds to root out the groups of monsters. Heimdallr finally relented and allowed Ares to take the Bifrost to join Thor. Ares came back with a broken arm and a myriad of bruises, Thor with a gash in his side and random cuts and bruises. Hela collected her dues from Loki and Hermes with a slightly smug, “I told you so,” and left them to bother Ares and Thor about where exactly they got those injuries.
Now she hovers in the corner of Gladsheim as Æsir file in and take seats on the benches against the wall. Odin himself is back, reclining in his throne, with Hermes standing next to him. She notes that less than half of the normal council are here; she sees that silent, strong Vidur is missing; bright Freyr of the field; and Ullr and Ali the archers. Heimdallr, Thor, Tyr, Njord, Baldur, Forseti, Bragi, and Odur remain, as well as, of course, the Allfather.
Loki saunters in fashionably late just as Odin begins talking.
“Heil, blood brother,” he says to Odin as he takes a seat next to Thor. The thunder god glares at him (Thor hasn’t quite forgiven him for the snide comments on having no self-control and for the teasing about having turned on a teammate, Ares).
Loki grins at Thor and turns his gaze on Odin, who sighs. “Greetings, blood brother. If we are all assembled now…let us begin,” the Allfather says.
A collective nod from the Æsir. Hela leans against the wall in the corner, playing with one of the brooches fastening her dress.
“This is more serious than a simple strike from the monsters,” Odin begins. “The Jotuns on Midgard were a distraction, keeping Thor from joining the rest of us in what we assumed would be a simple battle. We have lost my sons Vidur, Ullr, Ali, and Freyr.” He pauses, and the Æsir lower their heads in a moment of respect for those fallen. Hela wonders if they are dead or only-- “They were only captured,” the Allfather continues.
“Who’s behind it all?” Loki interrupts. “We all love the sound of your voice, brother, but cut to the point.”
Odin shoots him a glare, as do most of the rest of the Æsir, and Hela struggles to hide a laugh. Hermes turns to the side, hiding his face. “I don’t know,” Odin admits. “But these aren’t random attacks. This was a carefully orchestrated plan… a plan to take our next strongest after Thor, Vidur; and the others. They’re weakening us.” He gives Thor a pointed glance. “And fighting amongst our allies, the Olympians, is not helpful.”
Thor protests at once. “Ares is a cocky braggart! He deserved every hammer blow!”
“You were saying about those injuries being from dragons?” Loki smirks.
Oh, Ás, this meeting is not going to end well. Hela turns her face to the wall to hide her inadvertent grin.
“I did not say my injuries were inflicted by Ares,” Thor grumps.
“Oh, and you expect us to believe Ares let you hammer him without fighting back.”
Forseti breaks in before they go any farther. “Let us not dwell on past mistakes, Loki, Thor. Not in the middle of what appears to be shaping up to be a war.”
Loki subsides into silence at once, with a smirk. He won’t push this, not when there are bigger sarcastic comments to make.
“…Yes. As I was saying, this was a planned attack. We must work together,” Odin says. His one eye glints dangerously, as if daring the Æsir to refuse to be polite to the Olympians. “We will continue to squash threats as they come up. Be on your guard; after this battle, we know they are trying to take gods captive.”
Hela knows the Æsir will have little more patience for a longer speech, and that Odin is more or less finished. She turns towards the door and sneaks out as Loki drawls, “So what about the losses of the Olympians?”
She turns to circle the hall and go around the door and sees a pair of curly-haired, toga-clad teens listening at a window.
Autolycus and Abderus.
Hela can’t help but laugh at them. After all, Odin would let them in if they wanted to listen without subterfuge; it’s not as if this is a meeting full of secret plans. If it were they wouldn’t be able to listen at all.
Abderus whirls guiltily. His brother turns at a more leisurely pace and grins at her. “Hello there, Hela.”
“You don’t have to sneak around if you want to see what’s happening,” she says, tilting her head with a smile.
“Ah…we don’t?” Abderus looks guilty and rather annoyed at this piece of news.
“You think Odin would make it possible for a pair of Olympian teens to listen at his windows if he cared whether they heard?”
“He doesn’t like us very much, though,” Autolycus says lamely. Hela decides that it was his idea to listen at the window; he seems the type to engage in such pursuits. His brother is much more honest.
She shrugs. “He doesn’t like me either.” He killed my mother, imprisoned my brothers; the only reason I am not still a captive in Asgard was because becoming queen of the dead was seen as a punishment, an exile, rather than a reward and an honor…
Typically when she tells some poor fool fragments of her tragic past (though does ‘he doesn’t like me either’ count as a fragment of a past?), the poor fool says, “Oh, that’s too bad…I’m sorry” and sometimes inquires further.
Abderus looks vaguely uncomfortable. Autolycus doesn’t apologize or inquire further. Instead he flashes her a grin the size of Yggdrasil. “I like you.”
Hela is taken aback. “Um…thank you.” (It’d be lying to say she likes Autolycus; she barely knows him and besides, he’s an Olympian and one of the five people who wrecked her happy visit to Asgard.)
“You’re different,” he goes on. “Most of the Æsir would probably agree and shoot me a glare that said they don’t like me either.”
“Well, you have been stealing random things from random people,” Abderus mutters.
“Have not. The items stolen weren’t random at all,” Autolycus protests.
“…What did you take?” Hela asks, out of horrified curiosity and a fear for Autolycus’ life.
“Oh, just daggers and jewelry and stuff. Freya had a really pretty necklace but she keeps too close an eye on it; keeps reaching up to touch it.” Autolycus shrugs with a cocky smirk on his face. “Does it matter?”
“If you like your head where it belongs,” Hela says.
Autolycus pauses, eyeing her as if wondering if she’s serious or not. “You’re…”
“Quite serious,” Hela says.
“Well…” Autolycus looks down. “You Norse are freakin’ insane. Who kills people over a few trinkets!?”
Abderus laughs, seemingly despite himself. “The Norse, of course.” Hela giggles at the inadvertent rhyme. “And stealing is probably not the best thing to do when you’re a guest.”
“Well, no,” Autolycus concedes. “All right. I suppose I’ll return all the stuff. I didn’t really mean to keep it anyways.”
“Of course you didn’t, brother,” Abderus says. Hela turns to go, not interested in watching them be brotherly friends. She has better things to do, and sometimes she really doesn’t want to see others be such close friends because she really has no friends at all.
She makes it a few feet away before she hears footsteps behind her and then Abderus’ voice, saying, “Hela, would you introduce me to your brothers? I have not officially met them yet.”
Hela turns around, looking at him with disbelief. He really wants me to introduce him to people? Or is he just being polite? From what she’s seen of Abderus, the two options seem equally likely. “Fen won’t appreciate seeing you.”
“Um.” Abderus looks slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah, about him. I met him and he nearly chewed my face off. Admittedly he was a wolf at the time, but…I think we’ve met.”
Oh. Well. That would certainly put a damper on a relationship. “So… Jormungand…” Come to think of it, where was Jorgi…
He nods. Hela decides she has nothing better to do. “Okay.”
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