trans_9 | Sticks and Stones [closed]

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Sticks and Stones [closed]

He couldn't find her in the great hall, and that meant that she had likely heard, too, heard the truth. He wasn't sure if he should look for her, wasn't sure if she'd want him to find her. It wasn't that he expected her to run off and cry, but Astrid, by her nature, was the type to deal with things like grief alone.

In fact, he remembered when they were younger, when her father had died, she'd just... withdrawn; disappeared to practice like the crazy person she was. He wondered sometimes if the Astrid of the present, who made everything look so effortless, had been built on those quiet afternoons in the Berk woods, as she worked out her grief with relentless practice.

He still found her anyway, trying to find somewhere to be alone himself. It was a room that wasn't really a room. It led to an open sky, a meadow surrounded by trees, somehow still inside the ship. They weren't trees like back home, but they were trees. What he didn't know was this was Stacy showing off the Sensoriums to anyone nearby. All he did know was that he heard screaming. Over and over. And thunking noises. Scream. Thunk. Scream. Thunk. Scream. Thunk. Grief and anger with its own percussion. As if just screaming or just thunking alone weren't enough.

He watched her, and for once she didn't see him coming, she was so lost in it. For a moment, he wondered idly if he should leave, since she hadn't noticed him coming in, but found that he just...didn't quite want to. Right now, as far as he knew, she was the only Viking left, the only person from Berk left alive with him. After a while of standing there, watching, listening, he started to shake, and then closed his eyes, his mouth setting in a firm line.

Then he pulled his knife out of its sheathe, and his eyes opened again, and there was his own scream, his own thunk, as he threw it into the same tree Astrid was using as her unfortunate practice dummy. It actually hit the tree for once, next to her axe. And it even stuck. A testament to what he was feeling maybe.

(Everyone always told him he needed to focus more.)

Then he stood there, shaking with pent up...something waiting to see if she'd yell at him to get out or not.

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Another scream of pure, mixture of frustration and agony.

Another hurl of a great axe.

Another tree deftly struck and impaled.

It would be retrieved and this grief-stricken rhythm went on for however long before either the weapon's blade chinks or the female's arm muscles simply gave. She truly lost herself in it within this fake meadow.

Initially, there was appall. Then came disbelief; she absolutely didn't want to believe it... she refused to believe it. Their world can't be gone. Berk can't be... gone; a good-natured village formed and built from the sweat and blood of their kin, many generations of their ancestors. Everyone. The dragons they have recently befriended, created bonds with. Francisca, her faithful Deadly Nadder given to her by Hiccup. Her mother.

Mother.

It stung hard. Her jaw clenched, she might've almost drew blood from her tongue, biting back another pained scream. Losing one precious parent had been agonizingly painful enough--now fate had freakishly and cruelly taken her mother?

Pushing down bitter hot tears, heated by the boiling fury of her soul, she proceeded to reach for her weapon again--

...though when a knife suddenly sank into the wood with near precision, startled, the girl quickly withdrew her grip, spinning around in the direction it came.

"...?!" Unaware she was being watched from afar, to her surprise, he was there.

It wasn't a time to be impressed. And if circumstances were different, she would outwardly show him her approval - that was one damn fine throw, really. But in these awful circumstances neither said anything. There they both stood in silence, the air between them thick with mutual hurt.

A rising feeling of awkwardness coming on, Astrid tore her gaze from him, turning away, trying best to keep a casual Astrid front. Her arm raised, a discreet attempt to rub at her face, stubbornly ridding any trace of moisture that may have inadvertently escaped her eyes when she had been focused on taking out her rage and sadness. Pulling away, she caught a glimpse of her knuckles of her right hand, now noticing how red and raw they were, evident that she had ditched the axe at some point to release physical tension in a more barefisted manner. She'd conceal the marks with her left hand, avoiding him from seeing.

"...You... You could've said something," she finally blurted out, a slight grumble.

He could have revealed himself in a less I'll-just-hurl-this-knife-out-of-nowhere fashion, she meant.

But just saying 'hi' wouldn't have let him let out his own rage and frustration.

For a moment, he stood there, gaze cast downward, hands balled into fists, arms swinging slightly at his sides from the tension.

"They said--someone I talked to said our loved ones might be in the pods. As if--as if that's enough."

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She nearly scoffed at that.

"I... I don't know if I can rely on that chance either. Not until we see them face to face. Alive."

She squeezed at her enclosed fist, feeling herself tense again. Shutting her eyes, she slowly brought braced hands to her mouth. Her faith shook and she began to question. Questions she didn't expect Hiccup to have the answers for.

"Why is this happening to us...? Are we being tested? Can the ancient ones not hear us? If so, why--why are they not listening? Allowing their children to suffer..."

How was Lord Odin, their father above, not stepping in for his mortal servants. It was just incomprehensible.

Hiccup just stood there for a moment, looking aimless.

The only thing he could think of, that he wouldn't dare say, was that maybe the gods couldn't do anything. Maybe--horrifying thought--these things killed the gods. Maybe the world hadn't been destined to end in flood and furor. Who's to say that isn't how it ended?

"I think the gods would expect us to be strong enough to fix this. We're Vikings, Astrid. Maybe Ragnarök is an occupational hazard--"

He stopped.

Oh gods.

OH GODS.

Their world had ended in a flood of death and--and maybe it was so horrible they didn't remember it, but what if the serpent had--what if the gods had...?

There were two of them left. Two left. Two were meant to survive after the heavens split apart and were supposed to--they were supposed to--

It was never said how they were meant to survive...

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A chill ran through her.

Ragnarök. Ragnarök. The greatest catastrophe of the Viking culture. They were not listening--the gods were not heading their prayers because, because...

Wait, whhhy did he stop? Hiccup, why did you--

....

Realization kicked in. Astrid stood upright, hand moving to her hip and closing her eyes with brows furrowed, pinching the area between her eyes on the bridge of her nose.

No.

No, no, no, no--nooo. No.

"Hiccup... you can't be serious..."

They were... the last? THE foretold last?

"No, let's--look, we're getting ahead of ourselves here."

Waaay ahead of themselves.

"Listen, whatever happened, whoever was saved, the person--the dragon-person, by the way, which was really--anyway, the person I talked to, he said they think there's a way to restore our worlds."

Hiccup took her by the hands.

"I don't know what I can do, at least not without..."

Toothless... where are you, bud?

"But you--you're brave, and fierce and--they must have saved you because you're a warrior. I'm probably here to help you be a warrior. I've been here a day, and I'm already learning things--do you know there's this thing called 'science'? Rules about how the world works and how things go together, like knowing metallurgy but for everything. Maybe I can make you even better weapons."

He was getting off topic. He needed to get back to it.

"Whatever we do, I just want you to know...that I'm gonna help you do whatever you have to. We can work together to fix this, to bring back our world--" His eyes finally raise to meet hers. "--to bring back Berk."

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Incredibly ahead of themselves, she agreed with a demure nod. And there was no fuss from the girl when he held her hands. She wasn't use to it, but the male's touch gave her comfort.

Brave and fierce, huh? He flattered her so. ...He really thought so much of her, didn't he.

To be honest, Astrid wasn't entirely feeling so self-assured she is up to the task. But... he was willing to give her his all. To take on "fate", or a foretold dark prophecy, and set things right. No matter how hopeless their predicament seemed; he was willing to fight in his own way and keep hope alive. He...

Those blue orbs softened on him, countenance wavering as she met his emerald gaze. And there she saw it, at this proximity she saw it. His eyes were strong with a flicker of resolve behind them, his pale freckled cheekbones glistened from what might have been dried tears. She'd been so wrapped up in her own feelings and submerged in her despair, she hadn't thought of his own turmoil.

Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs--the rest of the dragon training teen crew; old enemies turned pals, were nowhere to be found, probably never to be seen again. His father, Stoick the Vast, powerful and a vastly formidable Viking chief as he is, possibly just another body count to this tragedy-- just when the boy finally gotten the father's approval he so longed for.

Gobber and The Hooligans. An entire village of closely-knit Viking folk, who once looked down upon their awkward heir for his differences, though soon he taught them all to look past their prejudice towards the dragons and they regarded him a hero-- now perhaps completely lost in destruction. What good was an heir when he no longer had the very people he would have some day stepped up to carry on a legacy? The people who his blood ancestors--the preceding Haddock chiefs--cared for and protected with their lives.

And Toothless. She did not want to think about what happened to the dragon; the boy's first true friend. Ever. The friend that Astrid, as a child growing up, should have been more of.

Hiccup's damages were far greater. Could she even fathom how he must feel? And he tried to pent it up, barely hanging on; his profuse shaking made it apparent.

What she would do next would break boundaries and everything she upholds.

What followed were no words. Astrid slipped her hands out of his grasp, slowly extending them, and when it looks like she might grab his face, her reaching detours, and arms carefully slid around the frame of his shoulders. A gentle tug with enough force to have him tilt into her until he was solely against her, and digits clutched at his fabric, her headband clad forehead finding a place to rest against his shoulder, burying her face in the fur of his vest.

Nothing needs to be spoken. The female's firm embrace will speak everything for her:

"I need this. You need this. Don't say a word."

And something, somewhere, inside told her he wouldn't think less of her.

If he knew what she was thinking, he'd tell her that his loss wasn't any greater than hers. It was a home to the both of them, they both belonged to its people. Her mother might not have been among the saved, the same friends might not have...

But he was the overly sensitive one, wasn't he. Of course she'd be able to shrug it off a little easier, of course she'd see his pain as worse, because she was so used to just gritting her teeth through her own.

That was Astrid all over.

And it did hurt. It hurt because he's finally gotten the approval of his peers, finally fit in with the rest of his people. He'd finally gotten the love and approval of his father.

And maybe most importantly of all, he'd made a friend that had become a lifelong friend, the first to ever accept him as he was--a friend he wasn't sure was here. His best friend.

Finally, finally after a life of being Hiccup the Useless, he'd gotten everything he wanted. And then, in some universal display of irony, as if a world where he got his heart's desire couldn't exist without imploding under the sheer pressure of unlikelihood, Everything He Had Ever Wanted was suddenly gone.

Both the unselfish part of him that was mourning that loss for the loss it was, and the selfish part that was mourning it for the loss it was to him were working on overdrive.

So when she embraced him, there was a choked noise in his throat, and then a sniff he couldn't hold in, and he, in turn, buried his face in her hair.

His arms tightened around her--around the very last precious thing from home that, as far as he knew, he had in all the universe.

Also unspoken was:

"I won't tell if you won't tell."

Vikings didn't cry. Ever. Not even silently.

But he'd always been a pretty crappy Viking.

They were laying in the grass, side by side, their heads near each other's head, enough that their cheeks occasionally brushes together. His face had been wiped enough with his hands that it was almost not sticky anymore. They were looking up at a deep-deep-blue projected sky, and the strange cloudshapes that were forming in it.

Looking up at the magical sky, he said, "Some magic room, huh."

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"Illusions, you think?"

Her own tears were cleared from her face long before his; her face stubbornly and shyly hidden against his shoulder, she'd rub off whatever liquid had escaped her eyes onto his vest. It was a little embarrassing to have him witness her like that.

Well, okay, it wasn't too bad as she thought... and "letting it out", as they say, seems to work. It alleviated her mood to some degree.

"Creates an image to trick our senses, confuse us, and try to put us at ease." She scowls lightly, plucking a piece of the grass and holds it above her vision. "Hn, just another lie in the form of a spell or whatever."

"I hate it."

"There's a lot to hate," Hiccup acknowledged.

"But think about it this way, Astrid. As hard as it'll be to bring back our world, in the meantime, we get to see the most amazing things. Did you see the window that leads outside? Back in the meeting hall? The space between the stars, Astrid, that's what's there. The places above the sky."

"I never thought I'd see stars this close, at this sort of perspective. So close, but still so far."

It brought back a reminiscent feeling. She once never envisioned she'd see, much less touch the clouds, either.

"Above the sky..."

"When you put it that way... It almost feels like we'll become stars ourselves."

Astrid had to chuckle meekly at that. What was she saying.

"Like the constellations. Maybe that'll happen at the end of this all, someday. People will look up into the sky and see Astrid the Brave, the stars all shaped so she's wielding her mighty axe--and Hiccup the...uh, Somewhat Useful."

And maybe they'd look up someday and sees those stars. But they had a rough journey ahead of them, he knew, and Vikings, in general, were very aware of their potential fates. There was death by enemies, death at sea, death by sickness--there were a lot of ways death could take you. Now they had a new, fun one to add into the mix: death by sky-ship. Or, at least death by enemies IN a skyship.

"Which would be nice, but let's face it, we are way over our heads and are going to have to work to even remotely catch up to understanding some of the things other people understand here."

Fatalism mixed with Charging in Anyway: it's a Viking thing.

Hiccup tilted his head. "Hey, look, that cloud looks like an elk."

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"The Dragon Whisperer."

Hey, if he is going to bestow her with that, she felt she should give him the same sentiment. And she does think it sounds kinda cool...

She rubs her forehead, sighing softly, "Seriously. A lot of the things around here make my head spin, including the people and what they say of their "worlds". I don't get it. Are you understanding any of it yet, Hiccup?"

"Nngh... don't say that. It makes me hungry." Aah, what a treat that'd be right now.

You are such a Viking, Astrid. And he meant that in the most complimentary way possible.

Dragon Whisperer. Huh. Okay, he liked it, and you could tell because he squirmed where he lay in the grass somewhat happily--and that squirming brought him a little closer to her.

"I don't understand half of it. The only thing I can think of is a lot of these people are from places where maybe they've gotten further along in the forge--but I mean, really really far along. They've had more time, maybe, to understand how everything works."

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There was no objection and he seems to like it. Good, then she is pleased as well.

With a brief side glance, she could tell he's bravely testing the boundaries, and she chose to look the other way-- literally pretending to turn a blind eye to gaze skyward, continuing the conversation, "If that is true... then..."

...And one of the hands that rested on her previously growling stomach would pretend to absently fall at her side, palm up.

"It sounds like what a world really needs are extraordinary minds to help shape it into something wonderful. Like..."

She swallowed quietly, the fist now between them gingerly uncurling fingers.

"...Like you."

Hopefully he got the gesture.

Signal received. Cautiously, daringly, his hand clasped her own. For a moment, he waited for the inevitable hitting, but that didn't happen and then she said things.

Nice things.

Deadpan. "Wow, Astrid, I don't think I've heard you say this many nice things about me at once without at least offsetting it by smacking me senseless."

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...Is he purposely trying to egg her on to get a rile out of her?

A light scoff, avoiding eye contact for the moment as it will just break another barrier.

"Then you're lucky my hand is occupied? Maybe you should hold it tighter to keep me from hitting you."

--But she won't. She rather likes where her hand is right now, thank you.

He's so right, though. She can't remember when she actually complimented him this much. And from his tone, she briefly started to wonder if she said too much. Inwardly conflicting to go with it or hit him so he won't feel weird about her.

Well, she couldn't do it with the one hand, because he held it tighter, and she might not want to hit him with the other because he showed his appreciation for the kindness by moving closer and nuzzling his cheek against hers, and leaving his head there, leaning on her shoulder slightly.

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Heeeh. That just means he is in biting distance if he riles her enough. ...On second thought, he might like that, too.

Hair unbound and splayed behind her and over guard-less shoulders, her other hand timidly played with the golden strands. His dried tears had slightly matted the locks. The subject took another detour suddenly.

"...You really cried a lot there," she softly murmurs. Not that she didn't shed a few of her own; he was there. And she wasn't picking on his feelings either.

It just brought on memories of what felt like a lifetime ago. Reminiscing when a certain squirt with wild red-hair sniffled and released the waterworks after finally pushed to the limit from all the teasing of his peers, but stubbornly insisted he wasn't crying for fear she'd tell his stern father.

Astrid smiled fondly, her cheek offering the same appreciation.

"Well, I don't know. 'Your whole world is gone and your village is gone, oh, and your dad and best friend and Gobber might be gone, and everything sucks, here have a war to fight--'"

His hand gripped hers even tighter.

"How am I supposed to react to that?" It's asked slightly defensively. He's always been the soft one.

"Is it wrong for us to mourn everyone, in case we can't fix it all?"

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She brushed the tresses of hair she held under her nose, peering off thoughtfully. "To be honest, I'd be really worried if you reacted differently."

No, there was nothing wrong with mourning. Even Stoick The Vast nearly broke down when he thought he lost his son. Herself included as she clearly remembers wiping away at wet eyes as she sat by his bedside. Hiccup was unconscious for the majority of it of course.

"It just means you haven't changed," keeping her tone sincere as possible. She wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"Nope, still the same overly soft, sentimental, and utterly un-Viking-like idiot I always was."

He craned his neck to look sideways at her.

"Where are you going with this?" he asked, curious.

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What does this say about her for liking you, then?

"Hah, self-depreciating as usual, too."

Embarrassed to mention she had been thinking of their youth, she shrugged a little, "I...I don't know. Forget it." She settled with distracting him with a little finger play.

"No no, what were you thinking?" he asked, curious.

And hee, fingers. His fingers played across her hand, and he traced little circles on her hand with his thumb.

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Sticks and Stones [closed]

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