[closed/complete]
Characters: Heimdall [vaticinio] & Sigyn [ascendre]
Date/Time: After this.
Location: Restaurant.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Two old friends having a talk.
The fact that Sigyn had felt so forgiving over a past transgression she had stubbornly clung to before made little sense to her. Perhaps it had been the weight of the separation, the years in-between that softened her enough to allow him close again. It had hurt, and beyond measure of doubt, betrayal was something Sigyn (Or Katherine) couldn't tolerate. The notion of it went against their entire being, even if that betrayal had not been consciously done. (And Heimdall maintained it hadn't been intended, the other girl meant nothing. Nothing.) Yet Sigyn couldn't help it.
Not back then and certainly not even now, in the way she hesitated outside the given address. She had dressed up, in the way she had in the past for their dates, but more out of a sense of nostalgia than because she wanted to impress him. No, Sigyn felt sad, nostalgic more than angry or betrayed.
Yet here she was all-the-same.
Heimdall hadn’t expected it. This was a woman who had known him as Jim, just Jim, one whose presence he had enjoyed so easily. To see her online - on that community, no less - it had been on the verge of surreal. Not to mention their little argument - which was so familiar, he was sure to be able to repeat it out loud, word for word, every excuse, every complaint, every little word they persisted in giving each other. So why was he still receiving this woman when she had clearly not forgiven him? For something he hadn’t done too.
God, he should have just slapped the other woman all those years before.
Fine, whatever, no use crying over spilt milk. Pushing all those nonsensical thoughts aside, Heimdall dressed as casually as possible, brushed hair, dark jacket over his shirt and that was probably the greatest extent he’d go to look presentable out of a court. He moved quickly, without thinking, without giving it too much importance. Otherwise he’d give himself a migraine or end up making an idiot out of himself.
It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, it had been chosen for its closeness to his place after all. And, as soon as he reached the door, there she was. And it felt like many times before in the past. Weirdly enough.
Yeah, if he had slapped that woman all those years ago, the story would've been different. Or at least made a more visible attempt to push her off (in Sigyn's eyes). However none of that mattered anymore, what if/what not. Sigyn felt nervous, just like always, as if nothing had changed between them. The door opened with a chime, and she was looking up instantly smiling without a thought at Heimdall (Jim).
Time had changed things because it made it very easy for Sigyn to just smile as if nothing had happened; she didn't know how to greet him though, stepping close to him but not offering her hand nor a peck on the cheek. "Hey."
There was a trace of awkwardness in his stance that Heimdall wasn’t used to feeling. How to act, what to do. He had never been a person who relied on a lot of ceremony. Still, it was hard to know how to face her without jumping right into the mess that had been their last conversations. He shuffled a little before standing straight, watching her with careful eyes. She had changed. Not overly much but definitely matured, grown into herself. He could admit the effect was pleasing.
“You look good,” he said honestly, no underlying meanings to it. “Thank you for coming.”
Slightly formal but better. Heimdall never touched her completely but an arm moved around her in order to direct her to the door which his other held open.
She tried to dispel the awkwardness and nerves with a pleasant smile, following his lead into the restaurant, "Not at all, I'm glad you wanted to meet." She answered genuinely, he knew her well, before dating they had been friends (maybe not best friends, but good friends). The compliment on her looks had Sigyn smiling widely again, preening contently at the comment. "You don't look bad yourself." And Heimdall didn't, he looked more formal and mature than what she recalled but perhaps that was just the new-found awkwardness between them plus the years between.
"I just got here about two weeks ago." Sigyn plunged into conversation without hesitating there, working her way to catch him up on what she had been doing and hoping he would do the same.
His head leaned slightly towards her to catch her words, nodding a little. Yes, Heimdall had been rather distracted about the community but he did check. It seemed obvious that, had she come up earlier, he would have, at least, noticed. The man couldn’t avoid a small smile in reply to hers, touching the small of her back very lightly in order to guide her inside. He was a regular at the restaurant, usually his haunt whenever he got home too late to even bother with entering the kitchen, never mind cooking. It showed why they had a table indicated to them in little time.
“About four, maybe five months. I’ve been in Cali.” Her chair was pushed back in an unconscious movement, more reminiscent of the God than of the human; so natural it seemed like it was something anyone would do. “Moved my practice here. Better pay, better conditions, much better house. And I get to defend people who don’t hide knives in their belts.” That was slightly more rewarding, yes.
Sigyn laughed, and that was the sign that she, for the moment, had relaxed in his company. She wasn't a hostile person, nor had she suffered any particular hardships during her mortal life, so allowing some Heimdall to get close again both was and wasn't hard. The betrayal hung in the back of her mind, a flashing neon reminder not to trust him, but it was hard not to when his familiarity and what she knew of him... seemed to weight more.
She took her place opposite him, hands folded on the table as she leaned forward to pay attention to his words. "My father asked me to come here, so I did." She smiled, but this time it was a troubled smile. "He's been avoiding my mother, and..." A small pause, "He seems different from what I remember. For one, my house is like a hotel of people coming in and out. Syd, Anya-" she shook her head, "I don't like it."
“Your father’s on the community, isn’t he?” If he was - which he did seem to be - Heimdall had a very good reason as to why he might seem ‘different’. A God-like reason. Briefly, he allowed himself to wonder who he was. And while he was it, who she was. The Gatekeeper was no fool. That much time in contact with the others had, at least, taught him no one who used that place was a normal everyday human. It was weird to associate his former existence with someone as bluntly human as Katherine but still.
“Maybe new companies. Middle age crisis.” Watch him lie with most of his teeth. He raised a hand absently, waiting for a waiter to notice the small gesture. “Have you talked with him about it? Might explain why all these people around. Won’t get answers unless you try.” Though, again, he could dare an educated guess. The same reason which made him speak with Freyja, the same which directed him to Freyr and made him despise Loki, even in this present time.
Silently, Heimdall squashed the urge to try and comfort her. He was deadly bad at it and she probably wouldn’t appreciate it. The feeling was there though.
"Yeah, he is." Resting her chin on the palm of her hand, Sigyn looked away from Heimdall, out the window while she was deep in thought about why her father had changed. "I mean, I know he loves me still, and it's not that. I just." A little shrug, then she turned back to him with a small smile, "Thanks, I appreciate it." The sentiment of comfort that he wordlessly offered. Sigyn understood.
"I'll talk with him I guess, when we both have time." Or so she hoped, "I mean, I don't know what I mean." Aubrey looked up, wrinkling her nose and then laughed to dispel her derpy moment. Her trains of thoughts kept getting lost whenever she thought too much on them, especially when Jim was around.
“You’re just getting yourself tied in fucking knots and circles. Relax.” It was a serious matter, he agreed, but it wasn’t like she would get any replies by pushing herself hard. Her father would tell her, probably if she asked. Not that she would enjoy the ‘I’m a god’ reply. Most people didn’t. He had seen the several tantrums around of those who simply couldn’t wrap their minds on the concept.
“Tell you what. You try to get him alone on a place. When you’re done, whatever the answer and even if you don’t like it, next dinner’s on me. Deal?”
"Arg, I know." She allowed her forehead to hit the table for a brief moment, and then sat up again, forcing a smile on her face. "Well, the promise of free food certainly cheers me up." Though frankly maybe the answers she looked for would be ones she would be better off without. Asking her father what was going on seemed like the right and fair thing to do- yet part of her was scared of her father. Patrick Blackwell was different.
Katherine Blackwell wondered if he loved her still, and more importantly- if she could love him in return. Would she be a bad daughter not to love her father? Maybe.
She reached across, fingertips brushing Heimdall's lightly in a gesture of thanks. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.
Date/Time: After this.
Location: Restaurant.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Two old friends having a talk.
The fact that Sigyn had felt so forgiving over a past transgression she had stubbornly clung to before made little sense to her. Perhaps it had been the weight of the separation, the years in-between that softened her enough to allow him close again. It had hurt, and beyond measure of doubt, betrayal was something Sigyn (Or Katherine) couldn't tolerate. The notion of it went against their entire being, even if that betrayal had not been consciously done. (And Heimdall maintained it hadn't been intended, the other girl meant nothing. Nothing.) Yet Sigyn couldn't help it.
Not back then and certainly not even now, in the way she hesitated outside the given address. She had dressed up, in the way she had in the past for their dates, but more out of a sense of nostalgia than because she wanted to impress him. No, Sigyn felt sad, nostalgic more than angry or betrayed.
Yet here she was all-the-same.
Heimdall hadn’t expected it. This was a woman who had known him as Jim, just Jim, one whose presence he had enjoyed so easily. To see her online - on that community, no less - it had been on the verge of surreal. Not to mention their little argument - which was so familiar, he was sure to be able to repeat it out loud, word for word, every excuse, every complaint, every little word they persisted in giving each other. So why was he still receiving this woman when she had clearly not forgiven him? For something he hadn’t done too.
God, he should have just slapped the other woman all those years before.
Fine, whatever, no use crying over spilt milk. Pushing all those nonsensical thoughts aside, Heimdall dressed as casually as possible, brushed hair, dark jacket over his shirt and that was probably the greatest extent he’d go to look presentable out of a court. He moved quickly, without thinking, without giving it too much importance. Otherwise he’d give himself a migraine or end up making an idiot out of himself.
It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, it had been chosen for its closeness to his place after all. And, as soon as he reached the door, there she was. And it felt like many times before in the past. Weirdly enough.
Yeah, if he had slapped that woman all those years ago, the story would've been different. Or at least made a more visible attempt to push her off (in Sigyn's eyes). However none of that mattered anymore, what if/what not. Sigyn felt nervous, just like always, as if nothing had changed between them. The door opened with a chime, and she was looking up instantly smiling without a thought at Heimdall (Jim).
Time had changed things because it made it very easy for Sigyn to just smile as if nothing had happened; she didn't know how to greet him though, stepping close to him but not offering her hand nor a peck on the cheek. "Hey."
There was a trace of awkwardness in his stance that Heimdall wasn’t used to feeling. How to act, what to do. He had never been a person who relied on a lot of ceremony. Still, it was hard to know how to face her without jumping right into the mess that had been their last conversations. He shuffled a little before standing straight, watching her with careful eyes. She had changed. Not overly much but definitely matured, grown into herself. He could admit the effect was pleasing.
“You look good,” he said honestly, no underlying meanings to it. “Thank you for coming.”
Slightly formal but better. Heimdall never touched her completely but an arm moved around her in order to direct her to the door which his other held open.
She tried to dispel the awkwardness and nerves with a pleasant smile, following his lead into the restaurant, "Not at all, I'm glad you wanted to meet." She answered genuinely, he knew her well, before dating they had been friends (maybe not best friends, but good friends). The compliment on her looks had Sigyn smiling widely again, preening contently at the comment. "You don't look bad yourself." And Heimdall didn't, he looked more formal and mature than what she recalled but perhaps that was just the new-found awkwardness between them plus the years between.
"I just got here about two weeks ago." Sigyn plunged into conversation without hesitating there, working her way to catch him up on what she had been doing and hoping he would do the same.
His head leaned slightly towards her to catch her words, nodding a little. Yes, Heimdall had been rather distracted about the community but he did check. It seemed obvious that, had she come up earlier, he would have, at least, noticed. The man couldn’t avoid a small smile in reply to hers, touching the small of her back very lightly in order to guide her inside. He was a regular at the restaurant, usually his haunt whenever he got home too late to even bother with entering the kitchen, never mind cooking. It showed why they had a table indicated to them in little time.
“About four, maybe five months. I’ve been in Cali.” Her chair was pushed back in an unconscious movement, more reminiscent of the God than of the human; so natural it seemed like it was something anyone would do. “Moved my practice here. Better pay, better conditions, much better house. And I get to defend people who don’t hide knives in their belts.” That was slightly more rewarding, yes.
Sigyn laughed, and that was the sign that she, for the moment, had relaxed in his company. She wasn't a hostile person, nor had she suffered any particular hardships during her mortal life, so allowing some Heimdall to get close again both was and wasn't hard. The betrayal hung in the back of her mind, a flashing neon reminder not to trust him, but it was hard not to when his familiarity and what she knew of him... seemed to weight more.
She took her place opposite him, hands folded on the table as she leaned forward to pay attention to his words. "My father asked me to come here, so I did." She smiled, but this time it was a troubled smile. "He's been avoiding my mother, and..." A small pause, "He seems different from what I remember. For one, my house is like a hotel of people coming in and out. Syd, Anya-" she shook her head, "I don't like it."
“Your father’s on the community, isn’t he?” If he was - which he did seem to be - Heimdall had a very good reason as to why he might seem ‘different’. A God-like reason. Briefly, he allowed himself to wonder who he was. And while he was it, who she was. The Gatekeeper was no fool. That much time in contact with the others had, at least, taught him no one who used that place was a normal everyday human. It was weird to associate his former existence with someone as bluntly human as Katherine but still.
“Maybe new companies. Middle age crisis.” Watch him lie with most of his teeth. He raised a hand absently, waiting for a waiter to notice the small gesture. “Have you talked with him about it? Might explain why all these people around. Won’t get answers unless you try.” Though, again, he could dare an educated guess. The same reason which made him speak with Freyja, the same which directed him to Freyr and made him despise Loki, even in this present time.
Silently, Heimdall squashed the urge to try and comfort her. He was deadly bad at it and she probably wouldn’t appreciate it. The feeling was there though.
"Yeah, he is." Resting her chin on the palm of her hand, Sigyn looked away from Heimdall, out the window while she was deep in thought about why her father had changed. "I mean, I know he loves me still, and it's not that. I just." A little shrug, then she turned back to him with a small smile, "Thanks, I appreciate it." The sentiment of comfort that he wordlessly offered. Sigyn understood.
"I'll talk with him I guess, when we both have time." Or so she hoped, "I mean, I don't know what I mean." Aubrey looked up, wrinkling her nose and then laughed to dispel her derpy moment. Her trains of thoughts kept getting lost whenever she thought too much on them, especially when Jim was around.
“You’re just getting yourself tied in fucking knots and circles. Relax.” It was a serious matter, he agreed, but it wasn’t like she would get any replies by pushing herself hard. Her father would tell her, probably if she asked. Not that she would enjoy the ‘I’m a god’ reply. Most people didn’t. He had seen the several tantrums around of those who simply couldn’t wrap their minds on the concept.
“Tell you what. You try to get him alone on a place. When you’re done, whatever the answer and even if you don’t like it, next dinner’s on me. Deal?”
"Arg, I know." She allowed her forehead to hit the table for a brief moment, and then sat up again, forcing a smile on her face. "Well, the promise of free food certainly cheers me up." Though frankly maybe the answers she looked for would be ones she would be better off without. Asking her father what was going on seemed like the right and fair thing to do- yet part of her was scared of her father. Patrick Blackwell was different.
Katherine Blackwell wondered if he loved her still, and more importantly- if she could love him in return. Would she be a bad daughter not to love her father? Maybe.
She reached across, fingertips brushing Heimdall's lightly in a gesture of thanks. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.