Ad Astra - 1st Chapter: The End.
Title: The End
Character(s) or Pairing(s): All Nordics, Iceland's POV
Rating: G
Warnings: two character deaths implied.
Summary: As the worlds begin to fall through clouds the survivors on one of them are facing a long side voyage without even knowing if they'll ever find another world again.
The End
“Don't... don't look back... ok? Remember what happened to - to - “
The request was needless and Iceland knew it. Nobody was even looking up from their seats where they were buckled in, and regardless of the gravity of the situation the atmosphere among them seemed unusually calm. Everyone, that is everyone else but Iceland himself, seemed to be filled, aside of grief, with quiet determination and possibly a small trace of hope. Things were now as bad as they could ever become but at least they had Iceland. He checked himself without even thinking and forcefully pressed down the panic rising at the back of his throat. Perhaps he himself no longer had such a luxury as having someone to look up to, but he'd be cursed if he did not fulfill his responsibilities.
He shrugged and bent down to close the scout's straps around his ankles, climbed to the front of the ship and turned his back to the old home below. At his command the oars were manned and, as the old world sunk through the final layer of clouds below, the survivors began to row.
They rose higher, away from the dangerously turbulent winds of the last layer of between-clouds, climbing all the way to the top layer and through it. The sun blinded him as it always did when they finally submerged to the Sky, and blinking, he tried his best to adjust and to look around for others. There was a weight in the bottom of his stomach when he saw how few ships popped up after theirs. He decided to wait for a bit longer. The ships were all well quipped and a couple of hours would do no damage.
Eventually if became clear that of the world that had once hosted millions of people, only some hundreds of thousands were now left. He peered around and sent a scout mark to the other ships, letting them know there was at least one functioning scout among them. No one replied to it.
It was as if his worst fears had been confirmed. No other scout had survived, or perhaps they were simply not capable of working anymore, injured or rendered useless without their gear. In a way it had been lucky that Iceland had a bad habit of being absentminded; he had forgotten to take his harness set with him the last time they had returned from a side voyage and so it had still been there on his ship when he, among the very last ones that could make it to the harbour, had boarded on it. As much as Iceland hated the thought this made him the person who would have to make decisions as to what to do next.
He checked the straps once more and, assured they held well, climbed onto the dragon head in front of the ship. Once upon a time a ship with a front like this was bad news for everyone who saw it, but now it had turned into a rather generic symbol of their world, a world that was now gone, disappeared as if it had never existed at all. For a moment he thought of his library and felt such a jolt of pain in his chest that he wanted to double up, but he managed to keep his face straight. Now was not the time for weakness, not for the sole surviving and operating leader. Forcing back his emotions he drew a long breath, cleared his mind as well as he could, tilted his head upwards and lifted his arms to his sides, and jumped into the void in front of him.
His straps were of the long type which enabled him to cover a larger area than the regular ones, a radius of approximately two hundred kilometres. The fault in them was that they would not carry with slow speed as well as the shorter type, so he limited his scouting trips to large arcs around the ship, as far as the straps allowed him, returning back to the dragon every now and then to avoid all unnecessary risks.
The Sky was empty and the world layers below it as well, emptier than they should have been. The two other worlds were now nowhere to be seen that should nevertheless have been within a short side voyage. Now, judging by the dents in the cloud layers, they had all met the same fate as Gimli, the world Iceland and his people had come from. He felt utterly helpless. Which direction should he lead the survivors now that every single one of them seemed like a bad one? As for the people of the two other worlds, they were doomed. Without longboats there was no way they could ever have escaped their floating worlds as they suddenly tipped to the side and began their inevitable glide downwards through the cloud layers, into the eternal darkness below.
Iceland sat onto the dragon head, weary after hours of scouting the Sky and the world layers around the ships. The sun was dropping through the first layer and its light was orange and soothing. Back home it had always it filled him with quiet comfort but here and now it only served as a cruel reminder of everything that he had lost. He glanced at the small fleet quietly floating around him, imagining them to be looking at him expectantly. Scouter, scouter, which way now? What shall we eat once our rations are gone? He shook his head sharply: none of that was but his own imagination. Everyone understood, they knew that with only one scout no quick solutions would be possible.
All of a sudden there was a call signal from a ship to the side. For some reason or another the ship was politely requesting to speak to the scout. Although the signal was but a call, not an emergency, and therefore did not demand an immediate reply Iceland forced himself onto his tired feet, rose to the starting position and jumped. His muscles would not thank him for it tomorrow but anything to take his mind off things was welcome now.
“Ah, good evening! So it was you. I thought it might have been, you were flying such far reaching trips.”
Observant as ever, Iceland mused, returning Norway's greeting before boarding his ship.
“Yeah, I had my new straps on board...”
“Good for you. Mine are, I'm afraid, still locked in the harness storage in Gimli.”
“Well, if you feel up to it you can borrow mine.”
Norway nodded as if the same thing had been on his mind as well. “Not tonight though. I think it's best to sleep over a night now. It'll soon be too dark to see anything at all. I've sent the other ships signals to ration the food carefully. Who knows when we get more.”
Iceland agreed and climbed the dragon head of Norway's ship to return to his.
“Wait.”
The sound came from the bottom of the ship within the sleeping tent. It was so quiet that Iceland didn't hear it at all, with a whole days' work of zooming through cold air having caused his ears to ring, but Norway noticed it and grabbed him by the back of his tunic.
“What is it, Finland?”
“Just - I think we should head for the nearest countries as soon as possible -”
“I'm sorry Finland, but they're gone. I flew as close to them as my straps allowed.”
“I know. But when our world disappeared, things were blown off it and with the gravitation as weak as it is on the lower layers... we've managed to net fruit and fish from midair today. There's still plenty to catch here but some ships should go see if there's anything edible still floating around the other worlds' area.”
Finland turned painfully to lean on one elbow. “I know I'm not fit for that now, so I should probably stay here and keep the rest of us netting. Norway could go with you and you could take half the fleet. Once there you could scout more, the two of you, it goes faster if you work at it together.”
“I'd say that sounds like a plan”, Norway agreed, “if we find anything we'll come get the rest of you as well so that we can fill the ships to their maximum capacity.”
The next morning dawned. Somewhere below them a storm was raging between the layers, sending small bolts of eerie light all the way to the Sky. Norway steered his longship next to Iceland's and boarded it, leaving his to be looked after by Finland. He waved at them carefully, leaning on his crutches, as their ship hoisted a sail and began a side voyage with a few others that Iceland had visited the previous evening, letting them know of the plan. The rest regrouped around Finland's ship - the ship's ownership was traditionally always shifted to the person who was, or had to be, in charge of it. He sent a netting signal and flew a red circle flag with three yellow ones below it. Netting time, area radius 300 km and no further. As important as food was they could not risk losing more people and longships in the turbulent winds of the lowest level.
Iceland turned from Finland's ship to look at their destination instead. The cloud layer had not even begun to close yet, that's how large the sunken worlds had been, much larger than Gimli and hosting so much more people. The holes seemed to stare right back at him. He sat to row with the others: mornings above the top layer were always a little bit cold. They did not exchange many words. Just once Norway ceased to row and sat with his head bowed for a while, before whispering to Iceland that Denmark was gone. Iceland replied quietly that the same went for Sweden; he had stared after the sinking Gimli like he couldn't take his eyes off it and suddenly he was gone. Leaped over the board, no harness, no floaters, nothing. No one should probably tell Finland about that just yet. There was another silence as neither of them could really add anything to these bleak facts, and eventually they simply continued to row. Weakness could never be shown on board or in front of people who depended on you. Maybe there would yet be time for it later on. Maybe there would be... other worlds.
2nd Chapter: A Promise for a Future.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): All Nordics, Iceland's POV
Rating: G
Warnings: two character deaths implied.
Summary: As the worlds begin to fall through clouds the survivors on one of them are facing a long side voyage without even knowing if they'll ever find another world again.
The End
“Don't... don't look back... ok? Remember what happened to - to - “
The request was needless and Iceland knew it. Nobody was even looking up from their seats where they were buckled in, and regardless of the gravity of the situation the atmosphere among them seemed unusually calm. Everyone, that is everyone else but Iceland himself, seemed to be filled, aside of grief, with quiet determination and possibly a small trace of hope. Things were now as bad as they could ever become but at least they had Iceland. He checked himself without even thinking and forcefully pressed down the panic rising at the back of his throat. Perhaps he himself no longer had such a luxury as having someone to look up to, but he'd be cursed if he did not fulfill his responsibilities.
He shrugged and bent down to close the scout's straps around his ankles, climbed to the front of the ship and turned his back to the old home below. At his command the oars were manned and, as the old world sunk through the final layer of clouds below, the survivors began to row.
They rose higher, away from the dangerously turbulent winds of the last layer of between-clouds, climbing all the way to the top layer and through it. The sun blinded him as it always did when they finally submerged to the Sky, and blinking, he tried his best to adjust and to look around for others. There was a weight in the bottom of his stomach when he saw how few ships popped up after theirs. He decided to wait for a bit longer. The ships were all well quipped and a couple of hours would do no damage.
Eventually if became clear that of the world that had once hosted millions of people, only some hundreds of thousands were now left. He peered around and sent a scout mark to the other ships, letting them know there was at least one functioning scout among them. No one replied to it.
It was as if his worst fears had been confirmed. No other scout had survived, or perhaps they were simply not capable of working anymore, injured or rendered useless without their gear. In a way it had been lucky that Iceland had a bad habit of being absentminded; he had forgotten to take his harness set with him the last time they had returned from a side voyage and so it had still been there on his ship when he, among the very last ones that could make it to the harbour, had boarded on it. As much as Iceland hated the thought this made him the person who would have to make decisions as to what to do next.
He checked the straps once more and, assured they held well, climbed onto the dragon head in front of the ship. Once upon a time a ship with a front like this was bad news for everyone who saw it, but now it had turned into a rather generic symbol of their world, a world that was now gone, disappeared as if it had never existed at all. For a moment he thought of his library and felt such a jolt of pain in his chest that he wanted to double up, but he managed to keep his face straight. Now was not the time for weakness, not for the sole surviving and operating leader. Forcing back his emotions he drew a long breath, cleared his mind as well as he could, tilted his head upwards and lifted his arms to his sides, and jumped into the void in front of him.
His straps were of the long type which enabled him to cover a larger area than the regular ones, a radius of approximately two hundred kilometres. The fault in them was that they would not carry with slow speed as well as the shorter type, so he limited his scouting trips to large arcs around the ship, as far as the straps allowed him, returning back to the dragon every now and then to avoid all unnecessary risks.
The Sky was empty and the world layers below it as well, emptier than they should have been. The two other worlds were now nowhere to be seen that should nevertheless have been within a short side voyage. Now, judging by the dents in the cloud layers, they had all met the same fate as Gimli, the world Iceland and his people had come from. He felt utterly helpless. Which direction should he lead the survivors now that every single one of them seemed like a bad one? As for the people of the two other worlds, they were doomed. Without longboats there was no way they could ever have escaped their floating worlds as they suddenly tipped to the side and began their inevitable glide downwards through the cloud layers, into the eternal darkness below.
Iceland sat onto the dragon head, weary after hours of scouting the Sky and the world layers around the ships. The sun was dropping through the first layer and its light was orange and soothing. Back home it had always it filled him with quiet comfort but here and now it only served as a cruel reminder of everything that he had lost. He glanced at the small fleet quietly floating around him, imagining them to be looking at him expectantly. Scouter, scouter, which way now? What shall we eat once our rations are gone? He shook his head sharply: none of that was but his own imagination. Everyone understood, they knew that with only one scout no quick solutions would be possible.
All of a sudden there was a call signal from a ship to the side. For some reason or another the ship was politely requesting to speak to the scout. Although the signal was but a call, not an emergency, and therefore did not demand an immediate reply Iceland forced himself onto his tired feet, rose to the starting position and jumped. His muscles would not thank him for it tomorrow but anything to take his mind off things was welcome now.
“Ah, good evening! So it was you. I thought it might have been, you were flying such far reaching trips.”
Observant as ever, Iceland mused, returning Norway's greeting before boarding his ship.
“Yeah, I had my new straps on board...”
“Good for you. Mine are, I'm afraid, still locked in the harness storage in Gimli.”
“Well, if you feel up to it you can borrow mine.”
Norway nodded as if the same thing had been on his mind as well. “Not tonight though. I think it's best to sleep over a night now. It'll soon be too dark to see anything at all. I've sent the other ships signals to ration the food carefully. Who knows when we get more.”
Iceland agreed and climbed the dragon head of Norway's ship to return to his.
“Wait.”
The sound came from the bottom of the ship within the sleeping tent. It was so quiet that Iceland didn't hear it at all, with a whole days' work of zooming through cold air having caused his ears to ring, but Norway noticed it and grabbed him by the back of his tunic.
“What is it, Finland?”
“Just - I think we should head for the nearest countries as soon as possible -”
“I'm sorry Finland, but they're gone. I flew as close to them as my straps allowed.”
“I know. But when our world disappeared, things were blown off it and with the gravitation as weak as it is on the lower layers... we've managed to net fruit and fish from midair today. There's still plenty to catch here but some ships should go see if there's anything edible still floating around the other worlds' area.”
Finland turned painfully to lean on one elbow. “I know I'm not fit for that now, so I should probably stay here and keep the rest of us netting. Norway could go with you and you could take half the fleet. Once there you could scout more, the two of you, it goes faster if you work at it together.”
“I'd say that sounds like a plan”, Norway agreed, “if we find anything we'll come get the rest of you as well so that we can fill the ships to their maximum capacity.”
The next morning dawned. Somewhere below them a storm was raging between the layers, sending small bolts of eerie light all the way to the Sky. Norway steered his longship next to Iceland's and boarded it, leaving his to be looked after by Finland. He waved at them carefully, leaning on his crutches, as their ship hoisted a sail and began a side voyage with a few others that Iceland had visited the previous evening, letting them know of the plan. The rest regrouped around Finland's ship - the ship's ownership was traditionally always shifted to the person who was, or had to be, in charge of it. He sent a netting signal and flew a red circle flag with three yellow ones below it. Netting time, area radius 300 km and no further. As important as food was they could not risk losing more people and longships in the turbulent winds of the lowest level.
Iceland turned from Finland's ship to look at their destination instead. The cloud layer had not even begun to close yet, that's how large the sunken worlds had been, much larger than Gimli and hosting so much more people. The holes seemed to stare right back at him. He sat to row with the others: mornings above the top layer were always a little bit cold. They did not exchange many words. Just once Norway ceased to row and sat with his head bowed for a while, before whispering to Iceland that Denmark was gone. Iceland replied quietly that the same went for Sweden; he had stared after the sinking Gimli like he couldn't take his eyes off it and suddenly he was gone. Leaped over the board, no harness, no floaters, nothing. No one should probably tell Finland about that just yet. There was another silence as neither of them could really add anything to these bleak facts, and eventually they simply continued to row. Weakness could never be shown on board or in front of people who depended on you. Maybe there would yet be time for it later on. Maybe there would be... other worlds.
2nd Chapter: A Promise for a Future.