Posted May 26, 2021, 9:37 p.m. by Civilian Seamus McKenzie (Future Citizen) (James Sinclair)
Posted by Civilian Ragna Idun Edman (Future Citizen) in Earth - Somewhere
Posted by Civilian Kenzo B’tren-Hyrushi (Governor) in Earth - Somewhere
Posted by Civilian Ragna Idun Edman (Future Citizen) in Earth - Somewhere
Posted by… suppressed (3) by the Post Ghost! 👻(snip)
The way her name rolled off his scottish brogue was like a warmed blanket by the bonfires on vintersolverv (winter solstice). She felt it deep in her core, and it terrified her. Need, Anything? Oh boy…could she think of somethings to fit that bill. Last of which was a ride out of here to a room, no wait…first first thing she needed was a ride out of there…Ragna glanced up at him, her focus not great, but her gaze direct and in the shadows of the flickering firelight hopefully he didn’t see her blush. She was 4 time world champion in live blade combat. Yeah she could use it, with deadly accuracy. But he didn’t need to know that, right?He came down with a massive Claymore. Sheathed in black leather with crimson wrapped grip and a cat’s eye agate set in the pommel, it was over five feet long from pommel to tip and obviously very well cared for. He laid it almost reverently on the table in front of her, his attention so focused on it he didn’t notice he had gently laid a hand on her shoulder… as if he had always done so. “This one is mine, Ragna… my claidheamh mòr. I, too, can use it blindfolded. But I hope neither of us has cause to do so. I would hate to hear what either of our Chiefs would say if we spilled each other’s blood when we are supposed to be helping Revna and Michael.”
Seamus McKenzie, Sometimes Size Does Matter
She didn’t even notice his hand, so natural and right was the gesture. The Claymore was beautiful, a work of art, the craftmanship breathtaking. She didn’t touch it, you never touched someone else’s blade, it was just a respect thing. But her hand ran an inch above it, as if she could feel the soul of it without touching it. “Faktisk et stort sverd. (A great sword, indeed). Did your sister make it? Or is it the McKenzie sword?” Under normal circumstances she could look at it and tell, but that would require a great deal of visual focus at the moment. Too bad too, she’d love to get a close look at it; the historian in her bouncing gleefully at such a piece. “I’m more afraid of what Revna would make me do. She’s scary.” She turned in the seat to reach for her own, not an ego thing, but pride in the craftmanship and her family. It was then she noticed his hand and she froze, sparks igniting. Did he notice? She leaned down too quickly for it, disrupting the delicate equilibrium she’d created. She paused, and without thinking of the consequences, “Ummm…would…would you hand it to me, Seamus?”
Ragna Edman, What did I just do????“Aye… that is the sword of Clan McKenzie. Given to the the Clan Marshall upon their confirmation in the role. They carry it for life. If they die before another takes their place, the same sword is passed on to the next. If they live and a new Marshall is named while they breathe, they are buried with their sword as a token of thanks. This one… this one has been made for me by Hrjold Grunsfeld. I’m sure you know the name.” Of course she would. She was brilliant and gorgeous and… GET YOUR HED OUTTA IT, LAD! his brain screamed. But he wasn’t listening.
Her eyes widened at the name and she leaned forward in excitement, creating a wave of dizziness, she closed her eyes till it passed, the throbbing boom in her head wasn’t going to go away though. One finger delicately point at the pommel and traced down the length of the massive handle and back and then her face broke into a huge smile as her tracing stopped at the very edge of the cross guard. “There…I never thought I’d see one up close.” It was Grunsfeld’s signature, his smith’s mark worked subtly into the designs etched on the blade, subtle and hidden. Most never found it if they didn’t know exactly where to look. It was of course a piece of living history as the sword for his clan but also the living history of a great smith. “Eireachdail (magnificent).”
Seamus nodded and reached for the blade and, grasping it with great respect , lifted it over to her and set it by her side. His brain yelled something about Look! Look! Look!, but he brushed the thought away. Looking at her hand hover over his blade, he said “I give you my blessing, Ragna. Feel the steel for yourself.” and he sat down across from her, the storm… and the world… outside forgotten.
Seamus McKenzie, Blade… Fire… Food… There Is A Pattern Here We Should See… But Not Yet
Ragna’s blade was the perfection of a B@#&^$! Sword. It was exactly 48 inches in total length, making it only a mere foot shorter than Seamus’ Claymore, the handle on hers measured 13 inches, a perfect two handed length for her, but would allow a modified hand and half for a larger wielder. A typical sword would range between 5 and 8 pounds, but hers was significantly lighter, this was a blade she could wield for hours and not tire, but the steel was hard and solid. She loosened it in the sheath and set it on the table, where he could see it, practically in his hand. “Go ahead, I think it’s one of the best pieces my uncle ever made.” The pommel black steel and forged, not poured, into the Edman crest, and small rune of Idun on the bottom right corner. The handle wrapped in soft grey sheep skin and wrapped in a rich forest brown tanned suede leather cording. The blade was razor sharp, and obviously put through it’s daily paces, but well cared for.
Seamus nodded his appreciation and lifted the blade, feeling its balance and remarkable lightness. He slid it partly out of its sheathe and gazed at the craftsmanship, the care… the love that went into the blade. It was evident in every part. “This is art… pure art.”
She looked up at him briefly, some warning going off in her head, about wielding a clan’s sword. She set her hand over the upper half of the handle and lifted it with surprising control. She’d never manage fighting with it one handed, but then a beast like this required two hands at the controls. She reached out with her other hand gently loosening it in the scabbard, just a foot or so to get a look at the actual steel of the blade. She flipped it over with an elegant twist of her wrist, the admiration apparent on her face. She rested the the weight of blade, still in the scabbard against her left palm as she ran her right hand over the length of the handle. “Ceartas,” she smiled softly, slid the sword back into the sheath and with all the reverence it deserved she placed it back on the table. “Et sverd som er verdt en slik mann (A sword worthy of such a man.)” She turned bright red momentarily. Thank the gods she said it in Norwegian…he didn’t understand.
She picked up the mug, her hand actually trembling some as a particularly sharp pain stabbed across her features, and swallowing her pride, or nerves, no, nope she would NOT let this man make her nervous. “I could use some water....and…” a hiss and a forced breath, “more of the liniment.” And then her eyes went WIDE as he let go of her own blade...........dear gods.......................
Ragna Edman, No…no…nononononoSeamus’ eyes fell on the runes etched into the cross piece just as Ragna’s eyes widened. He looked… and looked again. He looked plainly at the runes and then at Ragna. Fate. Willed by powers greater than mine. a man had once said when faced with his destiny. Destiny… that was what he had been feeling. He looked at her and blinked. “What do the runes mean? Right here?” he asked and pointed to them. He knew full well what they said… but he wanted to know where she sat on what had just transpired… whether she would see it as fate… or a curse.
Ragna blinked unsure which side of the handle he was pointing, the runes not coming into focus at all. “Her name: Drengskapr or honor.” She rubbed at her temples wincing, and hissing as the storm began to rage harder, crashing thunder rattled the windows. She considered lying about the other side, he wouldn’t know and then despite the closed curtains lighting cracked and exploded right above the house, as if reading her mind, “Umm....” she licked dry lips, hesitated and the thunder crashed hard into the house. Right Ragna, don’t anger the gods right now, “…’for my other half.’”
When she asked for water and more medicine, Seamus moved… and quickly, especially for a man his size. He grabbed her mug and filled it, then grabbed the medicine. “Hold still… here.” and he started to prepare to repeat the previous application.
Seamus McKenzie, Well Now This Isnt How I saw The Day Going
She was curled in a ball again, lines of pain etched across her face as the storm began to rage.
Ragna Edman, I didn’t mean to make them mad!“Shhhh… breathe, lass… breathe.” and he 5ook a seat next to her and simply pulled her chair towards him so she was pressed against him, no light in her face. He started applying the tincture again to her temples, and unconsciously held her close. “You’ll be ok… just breathe… just breathe…” he said softly over and over, trying to keep her calm.
He wouldn’t see it with her face pressed against him, but her face relaxed as the light disappeared. She inhaled deeply of the herbal scent of the medicine and something…else. She was breathing, what nonsense was he spouting. She’d learned a long time ago, holding her breath didn’t make the pain stop. That was a childhood tactic. The liniment was potent but his hands were soothing. She promised herself she was going to move away from him as soon as the pain stopped....
As the tincture was absorbed, he said softly “Trust me, Ragna. Ok? Trust me. I’ll never hurt you.” He wasn’t listening to himself. He just wanted her to stop hurting. He reached over and picked her up still in her ball and carried her to the bed. He yanked back the covers and laid her down, pulling the heavy blanket back over her.
Trust him? Her head throbbed and pounded and she had a moment of panic, she was alone, no one knew she was there, but for some insane and totally incomprehensible reason she believed him. He wouldn’t hurt her, she could trust him. Tomorrow she could worry about it.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t uncover your eyes… Angus. Watch over her.” From under the blanket, all she would hear is the door open and close.
A few minutes later, the door opened and closed and Seamus’ voice said “Easy, love… just me. I’m gonna put this on ya face. It’ll be really cold, but that’ll help ye…” and the blanket raised up and a cold… really cold… and wet cloth was laid over her eyes and forehead. The blanket went back over her.
There was a flash of harsh light and then something cold, and then the light was gone. It was icy, blissfully icy and numbing. It smelled of rain and wind and it cleared her head slightly. She reached up slowly pressing the cloth tighter against her head that felt like it would shatter. But the blanket was warm and heavy and underneath was dark.
Seamus was soaked. The storm was one of the worst he had seen in years. He stood there dripping wet and looked at the form under his blanket. He went to a chest in the corner, pulled out another blanket, rehung the ‘wall’, and started to strip off his wet clothes.
Seamus McKenzie, Agent Of Fate
The cloth numbed the burning and throbbing and she drifted in utter stillness, if she didn’t move, if she was quiet it didn’t hurt so much, and she fell into a still but restless sleep. At some point in her numbed half asleep state she heard movement and she moved her head, and cried the pain returning like a hot knife across her skull, behind her brow. “Seamus får det til å stoppe. (Seamus make it stop)”
Ragna Edman, Why Don’t I use modern medicine?
Arms wrapped around her, holding her close. The compress was swapped out with another, and a deep voice swam through the half-dreamscape.
“Jeg prøver, kjærlighet. Jeg prøver. Bare sov. Bare sov.” (I’m trying, love. I’m trying. Just sleep. Just sleep.)
Seamus McKenzie, Holding Onto The Future
Ragna stirred, inhaling deeply and then slowly letting it out as her head pounded like a distant cadence drum from a ship just out of sight. Her head felt tender, like a muscle that was over strained and wasn’t allowed to rest after. Wood smoke…she smelled wood smoke, which wasn’t strange, but different wood gave off a different scent and this didn’t smell like home. A band of icy cold across her face, she reached up and pulled the compress away. She opened her eyes slowly expecting light to great her overly sensitive eyes, but the room…no…the house was dark, the fire banked and the curtains closed. There was a moment of confusion and then remembrance: Seamus McKenzie. She inhaled slowly…food…there was food, and her stomach both growled and rebelled. She was in his bed! She sat up too quickly a swayed. Holding onto the edge of the bed frame she forced her eyes open, finding his across the room.
Ragna Edman, I got hit by a train
“Breakfast… Ragna. Please, come sit. Tea is ready, as well.” he said from his seat at the table. Angus was laying at his feet. He looked over and gave her a half smile. “I hope… sincerely hope… you feel better. I know you had a hard night.” He nodded his head towards the door.
“Storm’s still going, I’m ‘fraid. But maybe we could go over those documents you brought in more detail? Nice way to… pass tha time, as it were.”
Seamus McKenzie, Anything To Get Her To Stay
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