Are
Conflicting emotions washed over Are as he chased the words to dress his feelings, like waves over the spring ice on the great lake. The first break of spring that cracks what little remains of another harsh winter, the feeling of joy at the warming sun and the smell of the frost releasing its grasp on the land. A world long lost to a place between worlds. Ginnungagap had claimed its pound of flesh, carved from the mind of the cobbler as he was allowed passage as unscathed as a mortal passed to Hel could ever hope to be. Memories of a home as distant as the place itself. Faded they seemed, but the people as vivid as he'd met them just the day before.
He smiled like he used to. Bordering on sad, as the worries tugged at the corner of his eyes. Melancholy though, not the same aching that cut deeper yet he felt for the heart he left behind. "My home, yes. It is, was?" he said and paused, the word tugged at the hooks still sunk deep in his soul. Reconciling with the new order of things wouldn't come easy, maybe never. "It was beautiful, no words could do it justice." he finally said, settling on the simple fact that nothing he could ever muster would describe Midgård just like it was. Not one to tarnish the memories he had he instead turned his eyes to what laid around them.
A cynic would call the world a ruin of something once great. The people clinging too it maggots writhing in the flesh of a corpse long since passed. Somewhere deep inside the cobblers mind the likeness was striking, it was Niflheim after all, a land of death and cold. But there was more to it than he had thought at first, a broken land maybe, but inhabited by folks hardy and kind in equal measure.
"This though..." he said, motioning to the grayish hills and faded skies. "Dead at first glance, but from death life will sprout. I don't see ruins, I see foundations."
He smiled like he used to. Bordering on sad, as the worries tugged at the corner of his eyes. Melancholy though, not the same aching that cut deeper yet he felt for the heart he left behind. "My home, yes. It is, was?" he said and paused, the word tugged at the hooks still sunk deep in his soul. Reconciling with the new order of things wouldn't come easy, maybe never. "It was beautiful, no words could do it justice." he finally said, settling on the simple fact that nothing he could ever muster would describe Midgård just like it was. Not one to tarnish the memories he had he instead turned his eyes to what laid around them.
A cynic would call the world a ruin of something once great. The people clinging too it maggots writhing in the flesh of a corpse long since passed. Somewhere deep inside the cobblers mind the likeness was striking, it was Niflheim after all, a land of death and cold. But there was more to it than he had thought at first, a broken land maybe, but inhabited by folks hardy and kind in equal measure.
"This though..." he said, motioning to the grayish hills and faded skies. "Dead at first glance, but from death life will sprout. I don't see ruins, I see foundations."
