Round 5

[norse_kink]

Round 5 is now closed.

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Fill: Riding sky and sea (2/6)

[lunik_the_bard]

"Finished?" Jormungand asks, and Hel sits back on her heels.

"...yes." she says slowly. "This'll totally work."

"You don't sound all that convinced," says Fenrir, folding away his chair. He comes forward to stand in the circle anyway.

"Remember, it only needs to get us onto the branches of Yggdrasil." Jormungand moves Fenrir into position with a hand on his shoulder, lacing his fingers in with Hel's. "After that I can guide us the rest of the way. I know a doorway into Asgard proper."

Fenrir takes Hel's other hand. "Who did you have to devour to get that information?" he asks in a deadpan, and Hel elbows him in the ribs.

"I got it from intel," says Jormungand. His deadpan is less practiced, but just as airtight. "There's a report on my desk."

"Oh, you are such a liar," Hel grins. "Right are we ready?"

"Can you guarantee you're not going to leave us stranded somewhere in deep space?" Fenrir asks.

"No."

"Then I guess I'm ready."

Hel is trying to glare, but the wind called by the runes has begun to whip her hair about her, and the dust on her glasses makes the expression less than intimidating. She lifts her brothers' hands in hers and starts to hum. At their feet, the runes in the dust shift and spark with light, and her voice rises to an ululation. Jormungand and Fenrir have to remind themselves to hold their breath, then a stream of light and cloud sweeps the three of them up into the sky.

It is not the Bifrost. They have each known the bright lights and screaming not-winds of the Bifrost exactly once, when they were removed from Asgard. But they remember what the Bifrost felt like, and this isn't it. They each of them feel the bite of fear, the creeping suspicion that they were wrong to try and combine Hel's magic with Midgardian science, and then the clouds around them clear and they are standing in star speckled silence. There is nothing beneath their feet, but that nothing is solid and safe, and wider than space itself. It is beautiful, and they feel like they are vacuum packed in diamonds.

Hel breathes a sigh of relief and feels the air gust out through the papery dry decayed holes of her throat. Fenrir shakes out his hackles, and the chains in his fur sound like a wind chime, musical. Jormungand coils his form around both of them, in a snake-squeeze of a hug. It's the closest he'll get to telling them he was afraid for their lives.

"There," says Hel. "Told you it was gonna work."