sjaldan er ein báran stök (there seldom is a single wave)

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WHO: Armeria and OPEN
WHEN: Post NY celebrations - Mid January
WHAT: Settling in, learning about the other domes, meeting new people.
WHERE: Everywhere!
WARNINGS: Will update.

All of it still feels like a whirlwind to Armeria, but over the course of several days, she does her best to settle into life in the sphere, though it proves to be both a easy and extremely hard. Things are very, very different from her world. Not only by being so far beneath the sea, but with the dome that she lives in to the food that she eats and everything in between.

When she is not walking aimlessly through the market dome, picking up things to eat, she can be found watching people at the recreation dome, trying to figure out the activities that some engage in. None if it really makes sense, but then nothing there does.

The library and agriculture domes become favourite spots of hers in no time. She spends countless hours looking at pictures in books and doing her best to understand what it is she's looking at. The future is interesting and complex in equal measure. But it's when she can sink her hands into pull up some healthy soil to smell it that makes her feel like she's truly at home. And that brings back her Viking spirit and calms the ache in her homesick heart.

When the day is done, she slowly makes her way back to the dormitory where she lives, humming a song from her homeland with a smile on her face.

Comments

For Ned

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[ cont, from here. ]

Armeria wonders if he means that his daughters are shieldmaiden's or something similar only with a different name. Those are the ones in her world that make their fathers proud, and who will join the men on the battlefield and embrace the possibility that they will die and go to Valhalla, as promised by the gods. She supposes this world - the Sphere - might be similar, though, for a moment, she can't help but worry that maybe this was it. People who have died in their world, like Robb and his wife, were brought here. Where is the feast? Where are all the Viking men and women who had been ushered by the Valkyrie to Odin's Great Hall to drink and fight!

No, why would the Gods lie?

She comes back from her quietly drifting thoughts, blue-eyes wandering back to him and listening intently to this father speak of his son. There is something more in the man's voice, but she can't quite put her finger on it.

"I know," she reveals easily, giving a slight nod of her head. "He spoke to me of how unkind your world was to your family, of his wife's death, and of his own. Also how you told him he should start a new life here."

Armeria offers a sweet, supportive smile. It was during the entire evening she spent with Robb that she had learned that he was afraid to do that. It may not have been said, but Armeria saw how badly he wanted to hold onto the past; to remind him of the mistakes he made. Remembering was the punishment.

In the end, only he could forgive himself.

[ulfur]

How strange, to be speaking with a woman he just met about some of his deepest regrets and reflections. But she knew Robb quite well, it seemed. Well enough to hear his story, to hear him speak of Ned, to know the unique circumstances of the Stark men being here and alive at all.

He meets her eyes unflinchingly, finding unexpected understanding there. It occurs to Ned that perhaps where a father's voice might land on deaf ears, a pretty girl's might find more fertile soil.

...So to speak.

"He told you a great deal over the day you have known him," Ned remarks mildly. "Robb can use more friends, people he can confide in. People to care for in this new life here."

His own role in Robb's life is limited now, some of that the natural progression of time, some the falling from grace and hurt Ned could not repair any other way but with time and patience. But Robb shouldn't be alone here either.

There is a large white paper heart on the table in front of them, along with a pen. He picks it up, looks curiously at Armeria. "Can you write, my lady?"

recreation dome

[architector]

When not teaching at the school, Antonio busies himself with one hobby or another. While having a talent for art, it's more structural than artful, but he's been working on it recently, having been given the unique opportunity to view a world in daylight, the vampire would love nothing more than to be able to capture the scenes in sketch if nothing else.

She'll find him on a bench in the park area, watching the false sky and enjoying the warmth on his skin. He's been here months and is still in awe of the lack of harm. A chance glance brings his eyes to her as she's people watching. She isn't like the locals and isn't familiar to him, either, and he recognizes the rapt interest in her eyes. The dome is new.

After a moment's pause, he makes the decision to approach, his motions slow, human. He isn't an impressive stature, the man who approaches, folding his sketchbook under his arm. Standing half a foot over five, he does have broad shoulders and a practiced, steady gait, though. He smiles amicably when he's near and finds a closer bench, rather than forcing his company on her, should she rather not.

"You're a new arrival, yes?" His voice is deep, smooth, and there's a faint accent on his words, though it's faded to the point of obscurity. "My name is Antonio. What am I to call you?"

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Armeria happens to look his way as he approaches, smiling in greeting when he does so. She had not expected him to sit so close and realizes when he begins to speak that he might have been wanting some company, which, of course, she was happy to give.

"Armeria," she replies with a slight nod. Her voice has a strong Nordic accent, though not so thick as to not understand her. "And yes, very new. I came here a before the.."

The word is lost on her, but in the end sways back and forth as if she's dancing at the ball again. It was quite the first time experience for a Viking girl from the ninth century.

"There are many here that have been here longer. Are you one of them?"

[architector]

"Before the New Year's celebrations?" It was the most recent event he knew of, and he raised his eyebrows questioningly for confirmation. "And I am, yes, for some time, at any rate." He inclined his head. "It's a pleasure, Armeria. Where is it you're from?"

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"Yes! That's it!" Armeria laughs, though mostly at herself for being so clueless about this new world. But she is learning and hasn't been afraid to ask questions when she needs to. "I came here from Hedeby. In Sweden. Do you know of it?"

[architector]

"The island? Yes, though I've never visited or had the pleasure of calling it home. Sweden itself is a lovely country."

Though her accent was strange for Sweden. Was it possible she was from the past, further even than he was born? That was...fascinating, honestly. "I am from far south of Hedeby. Do you know of...Cordova? Or Galacia?"

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"It's home," Armeria says quietly before her smile slips away and she looks down at her folded hands. It would be said more fondly if she didn't know what was waiting for her when she returns. Or rather who was waiting for her.

The names of the places Antonio gives her are considered and her brow creases in thought. "I remember a group of men sailing south with Björn Ironside. It was sometime later that news had returned that they had reached a place called the Mediterranean. Are those places close to it?"

[architector]

He understands the sentiment, and the shadow that crosses her features. Spain isn't home any longer, not after everything he lost there. Even after so many centuries, the memories didn't fade. He'd met painfully few of his people, though. Maybe their memory was simply longer.

He nodded. "Close enough, yes, and it seems as though both of us are far from home. I hope this place has been kind."

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"It is... confusing," Armeria replies, looking slightly embarrassed for having said so. Everyone that she has crossed paths with appears to fit in well enough and even dress the same. "How long did it take for you to fit in here? Was it much different in your world than here?"

Time for her was measured differently, but Armeria has realized that a great deal of time has passed between her world and this one.

[architector]

"There is no where in my world where people live so far under the waves, no." He smiled, shaking his head. "But there are similar means of communication and dress, so the adjustment wasn't as great as it likely is for you. Can I help you with anything?"