Session 4 Downtime

Night 1: After the conversation with Borga, I cloak myself in shadows and retreat from the castle. I walk into the forest. A walk turns into a run. A run turns into a full sprint. My mind races with questions. Voices, pictures, memories, and noise compete for dominance in the forefront of my mind. Every sound dissolves into the cacophony and all that remains is her laugh. The pictures fade, and all that remains is her face. Her beautiful eyes are gone and only darkness fills the space where her soul once resided. In my blind emotion, I don't see the stones that begin to litter the ground. Crumbling walls replace the tall trees, and weed-specked cobblestones replace the forest floor. A rock catches my foot and I fall to the ground in grief and despair. My hands touch smooth stone, and I go to my knees and look around. Benches, broken stained glass, and an altar stand around me. I recognize the architecture as one of the human churches and my thoughts turn to the gods to whom I have dedicated y life. Why would they let this happen? Why would they take her from me? Why would they return her just to corrupt her perfect innocence and break my heart? My vision clears and I start to work. Mushrooms, small animal bones, birds, feathers, moss, leaves, shells, stones, herbs, flowers, and whatever else I can find are gathered to decorate my new altar. I pray and sing and scream at the stars until the first rays threaten the horizon and I feel my limbs grow heavy with sleep. I crawl under a crumbling wall and force my eyes to stay open as long as possible, watching my altar from my hiding place.
 
Night 2: The sun disappears over the horizon, and I wake to see my altar toppled by the wind. My offerings are strewn upon the ground, and everything is in disarray.
Rage burns my skin and I scream at the heavens. "WHAT IS THE POINT OF YOU?"
"Heimdall, hear my words and witness my grief. Have I not served the gods? You who sees all, has surely seen my deeds."
"Tyr, where is the justice in this? Have I not, in your name, only fed upon those who deserved it? How many wives remain unmolested when their husbands return home too weak to raise a hand at them? Would you prefer for such injustice to go unchecked?"
"Frigga, how many of your children have I saved from the hands of others? Do I not show wisdom and grace enough for you to take some notice?"
"Thor, have I not proven myself in battle? Have I not slain my foes and brought the fiercest warriors to their knees? What cowardice, what disloyalty have I shown to warrant such damnation?"
"Loki, have I not perfected my craft? I can reach into the minds of others and bend them to my will. Am I not cunning, quick-witted, and charming in your name? How can you desert me now?"
"And Father Odin, you above all. God of magic, of wisdom, of runes, and of poetry. Am I not your daughter? Do I not walk in your footsteps and follow your guide? This eternal life, I chose to pursue wisdom and knowledge just as you have done. Tell me then, why you forsake me now."
Sobs strangle my voice and I fall to my knees. The truth was that I'm simply not good enough. The shame of my hubris in thinking the gods would know me crushed my heart like a vice. I couldn't save the boy, I endangered the party by being fooled by a phantom, and I spent about half of our last adventure slung over someone's shoulder. My feeble attempts at enlightenment are nothing compared to the eons that the gods have already lived.
Thinking upon these things, I begin to walk. I leave my clearing and eventually come across a remote farm. I silently approach the house and peer in the window. A dog sleeps on the floor and the family is in their bed. I think of how they care for the animal. Perhaps it serves a function. Herding the sheep or assisting in a hunt. Perhaps it is too old or too young yet to be of any use. Looking at the family, I feel about them the same way. The potential that they have is boundless, but their lives are so short. They cannot know what the next day will bring them, but still they rise to greet it. I feel sorry for them. Most will never know what lies beyond their own tiny world.
Am I content being the same? Shall I forever be a pet to the gods? A curiosity that they pick up and put down again once they tire with me? Someone they pitty or ignore? I return to my alcove to await the sun, pondering these things as I go.
 
Night 3: I wake as the sun falls and stay motionless for a while. I imagine my sister's face, and I imagine the soulless gaze of the demon who tried to take me. I compare the faces and try to come to some conclusion about the nature of the demon. Were they in fact the same? Was it all a trick?
Assuming it was truly my sister. What sinister path had she taken to become thus? How does one go from a mortal girl to the enemy of both werewolf and vampire alike? Would such a path still allow her to remember her mortality while having lost all reverence for it? She put me in danger. She put my companions at risk. The entitlement of a child is well known, but this utter indifference to life itself was something else. Something darker. If this was truly my Synne, then there was none of her left. This magic is far beyond my understanding, and there is nothing that can be done. I weep for my pitiful ignorance.
 
Night 4: I rise as soon as darkness falls and set about my work. I begin by gathering Juniper wood and branches and clearing an area for my ritual. I surround a makeshift fire pit with rocks and clear away the brush. I forage for flowers, wild herbs, and eye-catching stones. A stag becomes my first meal in days, and his antlers are added to my collection. An unlucky fox is too slow to escape, and I carry its limp form back to my camp.
Around midnight, I light the fire. Before long, flames dance in the pitch black, and I am reminded of the sun, so long forgotten. My remaining predawn hours are spent in dance and song, connecting with the Earth, the animals of the forest, and my Fylgja Feel-ya (a Norse version of the spirit in animal form).
 
Just before the sun rises, the fire is extinguished and I retreat to my makeshift bed for one final night. I will return to the castle after I awake, and whatever visions do or do not visit me will be my answer.