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 Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 2:25 pm
Valhalla frustrated her.
Not her husband—at least, not this time. Of course he frustrated her too sometimes. You couldn't spend a vast majority of your life around a single person and not become a little annoyed with them from time to time. Even being married didn't change that, and seeing as Ganymede had been married for fourteen months now she thought she was something of an authority on the subject.
But that was another topic for another time. What frustrated her more was the fortress, that vast stone garrison rising high on a cliff far away on Jupiter, its jutting peaks often obscured by mists and low-hanging clouds. It was a fascinating place, so expansive she and her husband had yet to even explore half of it in two whole years, with strange opaque stones and glowing veins that wended through the walls, and doors that locked and unlocked by touch alone. On Ganymede she could find her way from place to place with hardly any effort, but here the only room she knew her way to was one she'd come to think of as her own. If she wandered anywhere else on her own, she'd surely become lost.
Intriguing as it was, Ganymede could not help the bitterness it roused within her. Up in one of Valhalla's towers was an eagle-crested door that responded to her starseed, permitting her to enter even in the off chance that she and her husband happened to separate and go their own ways through the fortress, and yet she had no memory of this place—at least, not beyond her own.
The heels of her boots echoed loudly through the vast halls as she and her husband descended into the bowels of Valhalla, where no opaque stones filtered light in from the stormy world outside. Their path was lit only by the green glow that followed them along the walls and the flashlight Ganymede brought with them. The loud rolls of thunder faded into nothing below ground. A chill silence accompanied them, broken only by the sound of their own breathing and the occasional drip-drip of leaking water.
“Is there even anything down here?” she wondered.
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Posted: Sat May 24, 2014 11:00 am
Being at Valhalla made him feel strange. It wasn’t any kind of feeling or emotion he’d encountered before. A mix of longing and guilt, frustration and relief… What had happened so many years ago, Valhalla only had small glimpses. Part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to know, afraid of what he might find out, or end up getting pulled into its mysteries as Ganymede had with her world and past life.
And yet…
Despite all the hesitation he felt in coming to this place, he still felt as though it was calling to him. As if something here will help him, or at least let him better understand what was going on. He shook his head when Ganymede asked if there was anything even down where they were headed, not wanting to let her know he was wondering that, himself.
“I’m not sure, I just feel like we’re supposed to go here…” he settled with, figuring it was better than nothing. Ganymede had the flashlight with her, but something made him wonder if they even needed it — or if they were even supposed to be using it. Still, he didn’t say anything about it. Not yet at least.
There was something drawing him in, like the steady beating of a heart — maybe even the center of Valhalla itself? But could that even be possible? Could a place resonate the energy of a living thing?
“When you have your memories on Ganymede… do you think you remember because they’re trying to tell you something? Or do you think it’s just random?” he wondered, reaching out a hand to brush his fingertips against the stone wall, the green glow sparking and swirling in the stone around his touch. Maybe this place was more alive than he really knew.
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 10:19 am
Strange as this place was, bitter as it made her feel, Ganymede could only smile in response to Valhalla's questions.
He spent so much time questioning her visits to her homeworld that it often appeared as if he had no interest in the place which gave him his name. Valhalla never seemed to completely understand how Ganymede felt about her moon, though he often made efforts to try. It'd been a source of so much debate recently—and, yes, frustration. Ganymede never knew how to adequately explain her feelings, and Valhalla tended to react in a way that Ganymede thought was overly-concerned.
Val acted as if her visits were dangerous. On the contrary, Ganymede thought those moments spent on her moon were the least dangerous parts of her life. Certainly there were places into which she must venture with caution, but there was always that ghost of a feeling... a protectiveness that surrounded her, that told her she would find only safety in its embrace.
“I don't know,” she admitted. “Sometimes it seems like there's a reason for them. Other times it seems like they're random. I think it depends on the circumstances, you know? Like... they sort of respond to how I feel, maybe? If I feel a certain way, I'll see something that seems more appropriate to the situation, but if I'm not really all that stressed and feeling content instead, or if nothing's really going on, I'll get something a little more random.”
Their voices echoed off of the stone walls the further down they went, their path wending carelessly through hallways and around corners. If Ganymede had been paying more attention to where they were going, she might have noticed the maze-like quality to their path.
“Do you see anything now?” she hazarded to ask.
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2014 2:11 pm
The green sparks lingered on the wall once Valhalla removed his fingers, the glow silently crackling as it faded from lack of contact. While he was hesitant about any of this space stuff, even he had to admit his amazement of the surprises this place held.
“I don’t think I’ve seen anything useful…” he let out a sigh, although with a glance to Ganymede, he amended his statement. “I mean… I guess we found your rock because of my memory… And the first time I was here, I saw… Serge… he’d already done stuff down here to get access to the fortress, so I guess I had it easy because this place… remembered me? I don’t know… Serge didn’t have the light guiding him like it does us, at least,” he said as they passed an opening, but he paid no attention to it, instead watching the path of green light that lead them forward, past other turns and openings in the labyrinth.
The path was crude, age wearing down the stone that had been laid thousands of years ago. The walls just as rough. There was obvious care in how the whole structure was built, but the atmosphere was more like a dungeon than the smooth tapestry covered stucco of the upper levels.
Ahead, there was another opening as the green lights danced ahead and disappeared, and while they could see ahead of them enough with the flashlight, it was obvious that they were entering into a huge cavern, completely devoid of light. As the weak light from the flashlight grazed along the walls beside them, it seemed as if this large room could very well be a crossroads of a few dozen new openings.
“Well, this is pointless,” Valhalla grumbled, growing frustrated with the fact that they’d already wandered for over an hour, only to have the glowing lights drop them off in the middle of nowhere. He stood for a few moments, waiting for the green light to come back, but other than the light from the flashlight, there was nothing.
To make matters worse, the flashlight decided to flicker and die. “Oh that’s just great,” he said a bit louder than he intended, throwing his hands into the air as his voice echoed off the walls of the chamber. But before he could complain, something else caught his attention. Above them, glowing so faintly that they wouldn’t have noticed it with the flashlight on, huge crystals jutted from the ceiling, sparkling and glowing the faint green the path had glowed.
Small specks of light shimmered, leading down the dome of the ceiling to stop in an ornate decoration over one of the openings head of them. Whatever it was, Valhalla took it as a sign and grasped onto Ganymede’s hand to lead her forward. The inside of this new pathway was different from where they’d just come from — the walls were smooth, like marble. Even the floor was of a higher quality stone. Maybe this lead to an entrance to inside the fortress? Whatever this place was, the stones seemed to sparkle, more clear and white than the green they were used to seeing.
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Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2014 8:49 am
“My rock?”
Ganymede spent the next few minutes allowing herself to feel insulted on her rock's behalf. She stared at Valhalla as if he'd just delivered a very personal insult, then as if he were nothing more than a silly little boy who couldn't possibly understand what that rock meant to her. (Truthfully Ganymede didn't quite understand it herself, but that was a topic for another time.) She huffed is displeasure and crossed her arms over her chest before realizing she was still holding the flashlight, which prompted her to immediately uncross her arms again and return to aiming it along the path ahead of them.
Which left her nothing to do to express herself but to rant.
“It isn't a rock. It's a stone.”
There was a difference, she insisted. Rocks were rough and ugly and worth little notice, whereas her stone was perfectly spherical and grew slightly more pink in color by the week and had enough magical properties to capture and store memories that weren't even her own. It was amazing and fascinating and didn't deserve such an inelegant descriptor as rock.
Unfortunately Ganymede didn't have the opportunity to go over all of this with her husband, as the flashlight soon went out and they were stuck at a crossroads with no apparent clue as to an appropriate direction. In any case, she was fairly certain Valhalla hadn't been paying her initial ranting much mind anyway. He seemed pretty engrossed in the strange behavior of his fortress, which, after a few moments of thought, pleased Ganymede enough to lessen the sting of the rock insult. If Valhalla gained more of an interest in his wonder maybe he'd stop fretting about her visits to her homeworld.
She followed Valhalla with her hand in his grasp, crossing through the ornately decorated doorway (was that an appropriate description for an opening without an actual door attached?) and heading down another path. Upon a close examination of their surroundings she thought they must be entering a portion of the fortress that held some significance, for the craftsmanship was far superior to the rugged areas of the castle above them. As they drew further in they came across another doorway, larger than the last, an impressive archway bordered by intricate molding.
Strange symbols were etched into the stone along the arch, grouped and separated in such a way that Ganymede took them to be words in some long-forgotten language of the cosmos. She felt the pulse of energy radiating from them, a low thrum like a beating heart. The doorway stood there, proud and protective, both beckoning them closer and encouraging them to keep their distance.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 9:32 am
Had Valhalla not already been distracted by the new strange things his fortress was showing them, he might have commented more on Ganymede’s unnecessary offense she took to her stone orb being called a rock. It was a stone, but it was also a rock… just smooth.
But that wasn’t the point and he wasn’t going to argue it since he was sure it would come up some other time, anyway. Instead he lead the way through the opening with the strange symbols etched into the stone, leading them towards the doorway that he wasn’t sure how to feel about.
There was sadness here — he could feel it vibrating through the stone as the white-blue light pulsed through the stone, similar to the green that typically followed him (or lead him, rather), but there also seemed to be hope and peace there. Of all the placed he’d visited in this fortress, nothing made his stomach twist in anxiety like standing in front of this doorway did.
Swallowing thickly, he squeezed tightly to Ganymede’s hand as he took a step closer to the door. His hand still holding onto hers, he reached out to place his fingertips against the door, and as he expected it would, white light seemed to spread out along invisible paths from where his fingers touched, and clicks from inside the door itself announced it was now unlocked. With a stronger push, the door moved inward on its hinge, revealing a new room, much different than any they had entered before.
While the white-blue light that still accompanied them gave off a calming effect, it didn’t help the ghostly atmosphere of the catacombs they’d just entered. An intake of breath caught in Valhalla’s throat as he hesitated for just a moment before making his way inside.
For its age, it at least didn’t look like it was in ruins. There were cobwebs here and there of course, but it was obvious that the place had not been touched since… whenever it was last used. There were coffins that lined the walls, but also sarcophagi standing alone, or in places that were meant to exhibit the individual’s importance. The room they’d entered was obviously the oldest, as many of the etchings in the stone had been worn away by time, but it opened up to newer chambers farther ahead, the deeper they decided to explore.
The white light seemed to want them to move forward, as it made its way through the maze ahead of them, lingering long enough to follow.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 11:09 am
Ganymede would have liked to linger longer and examine the symbols that bordered the archway, for although she could not read them now she thought putting them to memory may benefit them in the future if they were ever able to decipher the ancient tongue—however improbable that may seem. But Valhalla seemed unconcerned, or else distracted by what laid ahead of them. Whether the words were important or not, the fortress had permitted them to enter. That seemed to be enough for Valhalla.
A strange tension tightened her muscles the further they drew into the chamber, not any sense of fear or danger but a subtle anxiety that Ganymede responded to with an attentiveness she'd grown accustomed to displaying on her homeworld. She examined the stone walls, the smooth floor, the high, vaulted ceiling and yet, despite how vast it seemed, she could not help but feel enclosed. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she knew them to be under ground, or perhaps it was the absence of light and sound but for the white light that threaded through the walls and the tapping of their shoes along the floor.
This place held ghosts and memories, she was sure of it, though she could see nothing beyond what existed in the present. There was something sacred about the chamber, and as her eyes took note of the coffins and various sarcophagi, she understood why that must be.
“It's a crypt,” she said needlessly, slipping her hand out of Valhalla's grasp and breaking away from him to flit around in momentary exploration.
There were urns displayed on decorative plinths housed in recesses in the walls, coffins and sarcophagi of numerous sizes and styles, stone effigies cut with varying displays of artistry. Scattered along the floor she saw engravings she thought must mark individual burials; most she could read with no more ease than the symbols that had lined the archway, yet there were a few that seemed recognizable, and she wondered if the individuals whose graves they marked found their origins on Earth.
Suddenly Ganymede came to a stop upon approaching a pair of sarcophagi. There was little about them that caught her attention, for although the recumbent effigies above them had been crafted with exquisite detail, she could not immediately see their faces. It was the statue that rested with them that captured her eye—behind the effigies, centered between their heads was the figure of an eagle with its wings displayed protectively. In the shadows thrown around the chamber by the ethereal white light, its eyes seemed to be watching them.
“Val,” Ganymede said softly, her breathing quiet and reverent. “Val, look.”
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 11:35 am
As Ganymede pulled away from him, his attention was drawn back to her, and he watched her explore with a strange, overprotective anxiety that he didn’t normally feel. She was a strong senshi on her own, and while the fortress seemed to prefer his presence to others (as evidence of the doors unlocking for him and the light that guided him), there were also parts that allowed her to enter as well. And yet, here in this ancient crypt, there was an indescribable possessiveness he felt over her.
Trying to shake the feeling, he moved away from her, inspecting the various resting places for what seemed to be hundreds of people, if not more. Ganymede’s voice caught his attention once more, and he turned to where she was standing.
But she was no longer alone. A man whose face he could not see, for his back was turned to him, was standing near where Ganymede was. His hand outstretched as it traced the expertly cut stone of the effigy on the right, although his eyes were on the eagle between the two. Another eagle, not as large as the stone one, but larger than any bird Valhalla had seen before, swooped down to settle on Serge’s shoulder.
Just as Valhalla was wondering if Ganymede had felt the wings brush by her as the eagle swooped down, the bird seemed to disappear, only a faint glow inside the pocket watch Serge had lifted up. Had it disappeared into the watch itself?
Serge faded away himself soon after, leaving nothing but the strange glow of white light pooling around the two sarcophagi and the eagle that protected them. “These are ours…” he said just as quietly in response, not having to draw closer to look. And in that moment, he didn’t even catch himself on his typical desire to keep the past and present as separate as possible.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 12:19 pm
There was a part of Ganymede that knew what Valhalla said to be true, a part of her that had acknowledged it before he even spoke, yet she found that she could say nothing further to draw attention to it. It didn't seem real. Despite the whispers and the memories that greeted her on her homeworld, there was still something so fantastical about the idea of their past selves that it seemed very dream-like, or perhaps mere figments of their overactive imaginations. They drew her interest and incited wonder, but there had been so little proof that Liesel and Serge had ever lived outside of fragmented memories and small trinkets.
But a burial site was very solid and very real; Ganymede drew a shaky breath as she stared. Valhalla's sudden vision went unnoticed.
Cautiously she stepped closer, circling around to the sarcophagus on the left and staring down at a face she knew from numerous memories. The figure had not been cut to appear old, though his bearded face was recognizably stern. He was dressed in full Valhallan armor, with a chest plate and cape similar to his present-day counterpart. His gyrocompass hung by his hip, clasped to his belted waist, but unlike Chris there was a sword strapped to Serge's opposite side. One hand rested at his side; the other had been placed over his chest and clutched what appeared to be a pocket-watch close to his heart.
Across from him the second figure rested peacefully. While Serge's eyes had been carved as if they were still open, the figure to the right had his eyes softly closed as if in sleep. There was Liesel's face, his head at rest upon what would have been a seemingly soft pillow if not for the fact that it had been etched from stone. He wore clothing Ganymede knew to have been traditional on their homeworld—a jacket embellished with gems and cording with a pair of formal boots. His long hair was loose, a few tendrils tumbling over the side of the sarcophagus, and in the hands he held clasped over his chest was a round stone.
Tentatively Ganymede reached out to touch her fingers to Serge's face, lightly trailing her fingertips over the stone.
“They're so lifelike,” she said. Her voice remained quiet, barely more than a whisper in the stillness of the crypt.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 12:54 pm
Valhalla approached slowly, giving Ganymede room to inspect the two effigies, his heart pounding as he made his way over to them. While he never doubted that they had once existed, this was the first real form of evidence they had to Serge and Liesel ever being alive.
“Do you think they were actually buried here…?” he wondered out loud, although part of him knew this was their final resting place. Just… things didn’t always go as planned. They could have died somewhere else and never got to be buried there, after all.
And yet, as he stopped beside Ganymede to peer over the stone carved into their past selves’ likeness, he felt as though he knew this was what he would have found all along. As if the fortress of Valhalla had been calling him to this place for the past few years since he first visited.
The eagle continued to peer down at them, its feathers and eyes and beak carved just as carefully as the two laying before them. His hand subconsciously reached down to brush against the pocket watch he’d found what seemed so long ago, with Liesel’s painting on the inside. He lifted it then, using both hands to carefully turn it over in his hands, seeing the script on the back, and then opening it up to look at the delicately painted portrait.
It was obvious that this item was precious to Serge, seeing as he kept it with him, even in death. And although he felt as though he knew it was there, there was something strange with the hands of the pocket watch. Instead of the usual hands to tell time, there was an extra hand that looked like it had been added earlier.
A hand with a green stone embedded into it. It was so easy to miss, but… there had to be something more to it.
Valhalla pulled away from where Ganymede was standing inspecting the human effigies, instead moving between them where Serge had stood before, reaching out to place his free hand on the neck of the bird, his other still holding the open pocket watch. Like the doors, walls, and floor of the fortress, his touch sent out trails of light, still white-blue rather than the typical green. But unlike everything else he touched, the light didn’t start to fade as he pulled his hand away.
Instead it continued to flow through the pathways carved into the stone for the feathers, spreading more quickly as the light reached the wings, down to the large talons, and up to the bird’s head. Even if Ganymede wasn’t paying attention before, it was difficult to ignore the bright light and metallic ringing that accompanied the light etching its way through the stone. The sound wasn’t unbearable, just startling for a place so quiet.
And as the light reached the eagle’s eyes, the pocketwatch began to glow as well. With a powerful flap of wings, a large creature seemed to burst into existence and take off around the cavern. It circled once before coming to perch on the outstretched wing of its larger stone double.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 1:24 pm
Ganymede was so engrossed in the appearance of the effigies that she hardly noticed Valhalla had moved to inspect the statue of the eagle, at least until the light grew to be almost blinding and the shrill ringing reached her ears. She looked up quickly, gaping her confusion as the light gathered and burst out of the stone, taking the same form of an eagle as it soared up and around the high ceiling of the crypt and then lowered to settle upon the statue. This time the eyes that stared down at them seemed to be alive; the bird appeared ghostly, like mist forced into a lifelike form.
“What is it?” she wondered, stepping around Serge's effigy to join Valhalla between the sarcophagi.
She looked up at the bird and watched as it peered down it them. It spared her a curious glance that seemed to show a shred of recognition, but most of the bird's attention was reserved for Valhalla. It flapped its wings in a quiet rustle of phantom feathers, its head held in such an imperious manner it seemed as prideful as the bearded man it once guarded.
Upon noting the pocket-watch Valhalla had raised from its normal place upon his belt, Ganymede spared a momentary glance for the picture of Liesel within, and the symbol set into the outer casing—hers, she thought; the one that had once been placed upon Liesel's forehead, and the one that had so recently been traced upon her own. Compulsively Ganymede fingered strands of hair out of her face and let the tips of her fingers touch the place where the symbol had once appeared.
The bird screeched in greeting, drawing Ganymede's attention back.
“I don't understand,” she said. “I've never seen this before. What's going on?”
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 1:54 pm
Valhalla’s eyes were wide with surprise as the eagle landed upon the statue and stared at them. It was like something from a dream, or rather… a lost memory. There was a faint buzzing only Valhalla could hear, whispers that grew louder and louder as the eagle stared at him, its feathers rustling expectantly.
He reached out an arm, and watched as she moved from her spot on top of the stone wing to his arm. “This is Valkyrie…” he explained to Ganymede, although it was quite obvious that he hadn’t known any of this information just a few moments ago. She was huge, especially now that she was perched on his forearm, her wings spreading out to beat a couple times, as though to unruffle any wayward feathers.
“She’s a guardian of Valhalla… Serge had her, too…” he tried to explain, both to Ganymede and to himself. Although since the eagle didn’t make any move to make it seem as though he was wrong, he guessed he was right, or at least close to it. “She had another home at one point… but… I had a memory where Serge made the pocket watch her new home. Liesel wasn’t sure what to think about that… he’d given Serge the pocket watch but… Serge always gave him eagles, didn’t he?” he wondered, glancing to Ganymede now, eyeing the brooch on her chest and recalling the door to the room Liesel used to occupy when he was there.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 2:26 pm
“Valkyrie...” Ganymede said slowly, as if testing the name for herself and trying to familiarize herself with it.
Valhalla... Valkyrie... Val and Val. It seemed silly and yet... fitting. She knew little about the mythology behind either, and yet neither seemed terribly out of place here. Though this was her fist time seeing the creature, either in memory or at present, Ganymede did not feel threatened. Rather, she felt welcome here—not treasured with the intensity with which the fortress and all its chambers seemed to respond to her husband, but still protected. She was certain no harm would ever come to her here.
Tentatively she reached out to draw her hand closer to the bird, brushing her fingers in a gentle caress along the eagle's neck. Valkyrie watched her with the same intense gaze with which she'd graced them both from above. Though the creature did not greet Ganymede's touch with excessive fondness, neither did she discourage it. If anything she appeared curious, her eyes staring deeply into Ganymede's as if seeking the familiarity in the depths of her soul.
“So she's... like... a pet...?”
That didn't seem entirely right. Valkyrie surely agreed, for she opened her beak in a screech that sounded offended in tone, and gently but purposefully nipped at Ganymede's fingers. Her beak caught the dark fabric of Ganymede's gloves in warning, yet made no effort to break skin. The behavior seemed chiding, and Ganymede responded with a look of bemusement.
She retracted her hand and brought it to her chest instead, touching her fingers to her golden brooch. Valhalla was right, in any case. Liesel and Serge did seem to have a thing for eagles. She had no idea as of yet where the brooch had come from, only that she'd always had it, though she expected it must tie in with everything else.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2014 6:11 pm
”Woah, careful,” Valhalla fussed, looking worriedly from Ganymede to the eagle and back. Valkyrie obviously didn’t feel like she did anything wrong, for she simply turned away from the both of them to groom under a wing, her sharp beak running along the length of a long feather, smoothing it out. He let out a small sigh when it didn’t seem as though the eagle was going to try anything more to deter whatever it was she didn’t like about Ganymede… Although it only then occurred to him that Valkyrie might have actually understood what Ganymede was saying.
“Wait, can you understand what we’re saying?”
Valkyrie seemed to pause, then slowly pulled her head out from under her wing, giving him a look that could quite possibly be the most ‘done with you’ look he’d ever seen. She puffed out her chest before taking off again, perching herself once more on the outstretched wing of her stone counterpart.
“Oh…” Valhalla mumbled softly, glancing to Ganymede with a weary shrug. “No, she’s not a pet…” he confirmed, although he realized now that Valkyrie was answering for herself. “She… I’m not entirely sure… Serge and Liesel were talking about her in one of the memories I had when I was here a few weeks ago… I think she’s been around for a long time… Or at least I knew she belonged to Serge…”
Valhalla shook his head and looked up as Valkyrie spread her wings before fading away, as if being sucked into the pocket watch still in Valhalla’s hand, leaving it glowing for a few long seconds before slowly fading away. “I guess she’ll be coming home with us…” he assumed, glancing to Ganymede and offering his hand to her. “If you’re done, we should get home… we can come back some other time…” Although he wasn’t sure what more they could learn from being there.
Only time would tell.
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