Ve Borson

Suds on the Horizon | Closed RP

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Ve fell silent, but the machinery behind his eyes had already churned to their conclusion. He filtered his lack of response with attention on Hnoss, smoothing water down her shoulders and a bit upon her head and tufts of hair.

He cast a glance up at Freyja, somewhat guilty before darting back to the babe. She would not like the end results of his thought process, and he was not certain how to relay itwithout agitating her.

Her husband was silent, sparing her only a quick glance before pointedly turning all of his attention away from her question to instead fuss over their daughter squirming before him.

A distraction for himself, she could recognize easily. Save for Odin, the Aesir were not a people particularly gifted with guile, and Ve had to be the worst of them, especially when it came to keeping secrets from her. Freyja’s brow drew down once more.

“Ve,” her tone was firmer this time, though not quite so hard that she would disturb the child still in her arms, “who is it you are thinking to send to Muspelheim?” The shift between them had that uneasy feeling nagging in her chest, tensing her body’s stance.

Ve squirmed under her scrutiny, echoing some of the motions of his daughter within his arms. “Well, it . . . there are a lot of factors that need to be considered,” he attempted to explain his rationale first. “It would have to be someone who could navigate arriving on Muspelheim and maintaining a consistent flow of data back to Asgard . . . someone with the technical expertise to troubleshoot problems in the field without assistance,” he swallowed hard.

“And in case Muspelheim detects a scout and considers them hostile, well . . . we would have to have someone who is ready and skilled enough to fight under any conditions--since we have no information on what sort of weaponry they may have,” He still kept his gaze from her, focusing instead on the little tufts of hair he had wet and setting the irregular curls into a neater pattern upon Hnoss’ head.

“But if Muspelheim does desire to negotiate, we would need to send someone who is skilled enough to adapt to that situation as well . . . someone with experience balancing the demands of two different realms in a tense situation, and who would have the authority to represent and speak for all of us . . .” He cleared his throat, still unable to answer her question directly.

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Freyja frowned at Ve’s comment on her squabbling with the Jarls. “They start it,” his wife argued petulantly, resisting the urge to pout. That they had all displayed some distaste at she and Ve’s marriage had her wishing they would all find some foreign realm to pack off to.

Turning her attention back down to the babe in her arms, Freyja scooped up another handful of water to fall over Gersemi’s belly, washing away the pink bubbles and leaving her baby soft skin even softer and smelling just faintly of blossom flowers. Light fingertip brushings gently smoothed over the babe’s round cheeks, coming over to trace down her nose and chin in a soft line, and Freyja watched as Gersemi’s tiny eyes closed at the contact. Her brow smoothed out once more.

“If not the Jarls then, who might you suggest?” Freyja’s tone was lighter as she posed the question.

Ve feel silent, but the machinery behind his eyes had already churned to their conclusion. He filtered his lack of response with attention on Hnoss, smoothing water down her shoulders and a bit upon her head and tufts of hair.

He cast a glance up at Freyja, somewhat guilty before darting back to the babe. She would not like the end results of his thought process, and he was not certain how to relay itwithout agitating her.

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“Send a Jarl,” Freyja immediately put in without looking up, still rubbing at her babe’s small belly.

“They are always irking you three to find some new territory or land or what-have-you to seize and distribute to their clans … if they are so eager for a battle, and if someone must be battle-ready to land on the fire realm, send a Jarl.” His wife concluded simply.

“And if they do get themselves caught and burnt on Muspelheim–” she shrugged to finish off the sentiment, hardly concerned. Norns knew there would be another one all too happy to step forward and take his place.

And annoy her just as much as the last one, Freyja had no doubt.

Ve gave a disparaging look at her suggestion, particularly when it came to her shrug at the possibility of a Jarl’s demise. “They may not be pleasant to deal with, but Jarls are rather an important aspect of our societal structure. We can’t just go around sending them off to start a war because they argue with us--or with you in particular.”

“And it would be an almost surefire way to start a war at that,” he cogitated further. “Our Jarls are not practiced in diplomacy--if it ends up that Muspelheim wishes to talk then . . .” he shook his head. That was a foregone conclusion.

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An uneasy feeling started in her, she could feel. Like an icy touch, the sensation started at the nape of her neck and sent a shiver down her spine. Her brow furrowed for the cause of it.

“When the law-givers first were told of prophecies of a great war between Vanaheim and Asgard, it was treated as an inevitability,” Freyja started first. “Our sages had convinced our council that there was little time for deliberation, nor to fully weigh the odds or truly gauge our opponents–and so we went to war.”

“Hundreds of thousands of our people were uprooted from their lives to fight a realm we had never even made contact with prior to our attacks… and so many never made it home after.” Her lips thinned into a grim line.

That they had pulled Freyja herself to serve as a healer made it all the more personal. The years fighting had shuffled thousands of men in and out of her healing tents, all in various states of affliction and pain. The lucky ones had only lost a limb or two, while the less fortunate had lost their minds to the battles.

And then there was the death … she hadn’t needed to be a warrior to see it. To feel it, to smell it. It had remained a lingering presence in the camps just as it had on the field.

“I am not saying that we ought to shy away from conflict–especially speaking as a shield-maid still–but to wage war with such a dangerous realm, with so little information to base any of our maneuvers on … what can you plan for?” She shook her head. “It is such a large gamble to play on.”

“And we have other priorities now.” Freyja pushed back some of the soft tendrils of Gersemi’s hair to draw her husband’s attention back to their children.

“That is what I have been saying,” Ve nodded in agreement. “We know too little for either diplomacy or an attack to be any kind of security. From what I’ve been able to scan from the Bifrost Observatory, there isn’t any guarantee landing an army there would be feasible,” he went on with a furrow in his brow, “and no one knows if the inhabitants even speak a form of All-Speak for us to negotiate in.”

He settled Hnoss a little more than waist-deep into the water in the crook of his arm and resting on his thigh. She still kicked her feet aimlessly within the water, but the splashes were lessened by the new depth. “I do not want another war–we do not want one,” he reiterated as he cupped some water in his hand and let it fall upon the babe’s chest and shoulders. “But we also cannot allow our allies to have their supplies under fire without action.”

“I just–I wish we had a way to scan for more than just data on the physical characteristics of the realm,” he fretted. “Something that would tell us who we would be dealing with rather than just where they come from.”

Freyja resisted the urge to huff a breath to the reference of the elves as allies … though as much as she personally had no patience for their pomp and attitude, she had to admit–begrudgingly–they were allies to Asgard.

Even more, that bad feeling was sticking in her chest like an unshakable cough , feeling out of place and foreign, and she held to Gersemi a little tighter. Inhaling once, she took in a steadying breath, fortifying and bracing against the discomfort, before exhaling it out. She reached for the mild soap at the edge of the tub.

“A method that is neither war nor diplomacy,” Freyja pondered on the idea as she took a pea-sized portion of the soap into her palm, “and that’s purpose is to reap information rather than engage with any part of the realm itself.”

Gersemi gurgled some as her mother smoothed the translucent lotion over her belly, watching intently as the stuff foamed up a soft pink color with her circling motions.

“So a spy,” Freyja assessed. “How very Vanir.”

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“I mean, not really . . . not quite a spy,” Ve tried to argue, uncomfortable with the term. “Just . . . more like . . . a scout maybe,” he said. That would go over better with the Jarls, most likely.

“It would be someone who could make a report back to us regarding the situation there,” he began his cogitations aloud, “but it would also have to be someone who would have the position to be able to make first contact and represent us if it turns out Muspelheim will negotiate after all . . .” he shook his head. “And if things go sideways, it would also have to be someone capable of holding their own in a battle and being able to essentially lead their own extraction.”

Hnoss fidgeted with an odd hiccough and a raise of her hand to tap at his chest, interrupting his calculations.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, clasping the child’s hand in his. “That is too many variables open and too many limiting factors on the subject.”

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An uneasy feeling started in her, she could feel. Like an icy touch, the sensation started at the nape of her neck and sent a shiver down her spine. Her brow furrowed for the cause of it.

“When the law-givers first were told of prophecies of a great war between Vanaheim and Asgard, it was treated as an inevitability,” Freyja started first. “Our sages had convinced our council that there was little time for deliberation, nor to fully weigh the odds or truly gauge our opponents–and so we went to war.”

“Hundreds of thousands of our people were uprooted from their lives to fight a realm we had never even made contact with prior to our attacks… and so many never made it home after.” Her lips thinned into a grim line.

That they had pulled Freyja herself to serve as a healer made it all the more personal. The years fighting had shuffled thousands of men in and out of her healing tents, all in various states of affliction and pain. The lucky ones had only lost a limb or two, while the less fortunate had lost their minds to the battles.

And then there was the death … she hadn’t needed to be a warrior to see it. To feel it, to smell it. It had remained a lingering presence in the camps just as it had on the field.

“I am not saying that we ought to shy away from conflict–especially speaking as a shield-maid still–but to wage war with such a dangerous realm, with so little information to base any of our maneuvers on … what can you plan for?” She shook her head. “It is such a large gamble to play on.”

“And we have other priorities now.” Freyja pushed back some of the soft tendrils of Gersemi’s hair to draw her husband’s attention back to their children.

He settled Hnoss a little more than waist-deep into the water in the crook of his arm and resting on his thigh. She still kicked her feet aimlessly within the water, but the splashes were lessened by the new depth. “I do not want another war--we do not want one,” he reiterated as he cupped some water in his hand and let it fall upon the babe’s chest and shoulders. “But we also cannot allow our allies to have their supplies under fire without action.”

“I just--I wish we had a way to scan for more than just data on the physical characteristics of the realm,” he fretted. “Something that would tell us who we would be dealing with rather than just where they come from.”

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Gersemi, now bare-bottomed, fussed and fidgeted a little as she met the water, but her mother kept her snug in the crook of her arm, murmuring soft, comforting sounds to the babe and scooping small handfuls of water over her to keep her warm.

As her husband relayed the council’s reaction, Freyja snorted. “How unsurprising, to be split down the middle and rendered useless toward the decision.” Very characteristic of the Jarls as long as she had known them.

“Odin’s suggestion, I think, sounds the most reasonable,” she put in her two cents on the matter. “Too much of Muspelheim is still unknown to us … we cannot be certain of anything concerning the realm or its possible inhabitants to confidently put toward an attack.”

“How offensive is Vili wanting to be?”

“No decision has actually been made yet,” Ve said, easing Hnoss to slide down against his chest into the water gradually. “We’re still in deliberations, so it’s . . . just a lot of talk right now, really.”

“It’s likely split down the middle, but we can’t say for certain until everyone’s had the floor,” he hedged, “but . . . most likely, half--the Jarls, would agree with Vili. He seems to interpret our position as Protectors of the Nine rather . . . strongly--and sees this incident as an attack on our allies that must be answered.”

Hnoss kicked her feet from within his arms to splash her toes into and out of the water.

“Odin argues that some sort of agreement can be made with Muspelheim, perhaps one that would advantage us further and strengthen the Agreement of Realms--but that is assuming we can even communicate with them,” he shook his head dubiously. “We just . . . we don’t have enough information on it, but a decision has to be made soon.”

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Freyja watched as her husband stepped and knelt into the water, and trusting his judgement that the bathwater had finally cooled enough, she moved to join him.

“Do the Jarls have an opinion on whether they think the act was intentional or not?” She held to Gersemi tightly as she steadied a foot in the water. “And if it was, offensive or defensive? What do Vili and Odin think?” Freyja dropped carefully down to settle into the water with her child and her questions.

“It’s still not clear,” Ve said, keeping Hnoss just at the rising water level when his wife entered the tub. This was the most interested he had seen her when it came to the ins and outs of the policy meetings, and the fresh ears for the situation were unexpectedly welcome to him.

“The council is split mostly down the middle,” he explained, “some are with Odin saying we need to make contact and develop communication to determine whether borders were violated and negotiate moving forward. Others are with Vili,” he shook his head, “and see it as the precursor to an offensive manoeuvre.”

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His wife drew nearer the bath, babe secured still in her arms.

“Muspelheim?” Even just the name of the place piqued her curiosity and had her tone lending less to mockery at the Elves’ expense–now coming along to a more genuine interest.

With so little known about the place (other than the inherent dangers of the planet’s general conditions), Muspelheim remained an unknown. No contact had been made between the fire realm and either Asgard or Vanaheim that Freyja was aware of.

“Still no communication, I assume?” She could guess as much. It was still unclear whether or not Muspelheim had a population to speak of at all. “What does the council think?”

“Not a word,” Ve said. He dipped his toe into the bathwater to test it, then settled the whole of his foot inside. “Alfheim claims they kept to their route and there was no chance they encroached into Muspelheim’s airspace, but . . . well, the interpretation of those borders may be a point of debate.”

His second foot followed and he brought himself down to a kneel within the water, just barely allowing the water to lap up to Hnoss’ bottom that he cradled in his arms.

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Freyja rolled back her shoulder as Ve took their daughter, relaxing the somewhat strained muscles carrying the both of them at once had seen before bringing both hands back to Gersemi more securely.

Too big, she thought, they were getting too big too quickly.

“Of course it is,” Freyja accepted his comment on her brilliance, flashing a smile. “You really ought to consider my ideas for maintaining domestic peace and foreign relations more often.”

“I have many thoughts on the elves and how to approach Alfheim.” Her teasing continued.

“Ah, well,” Ve hesitated a little on that particular suggestion. “Perhaps those particular thoughts ought to wait a few meeting cycles.”

Hnoss gurgled in into his arm as he held her, and he moved to come down closer to the bathtub.

“Alfheim has been having some trouble of late, particularly in sending their ships out for exports--some have been burning up en route,” he frowned in his explanation. “Some are saying it may be Muspelheim, but nothing’s been confirmed yet.”

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Freyja had to reinforce her hold on Hnoss and Gersemi as they squirmed under their father’s kisses.

“I am not going to let you give up all of your time for your projects,” she argued. “Compromising some time is to be expected, but if it is your work with the council that is keeping you away, perhaps the children and I should make a point to attend a meeting or two ourselves.”

Ve made a sound in his throat as if to say something against that, but halted halfway as the idea latched into his grey matter. He leaned back from her, raising a hand to his chin, cogitating.

He turned to sit upon the edge of the bath, trousers still only half-done off. “Vili would not be hard to convince, and I imagine Odin could be persuaded . . . I don’t know of any regulation against it that a Jarl could stand on to try to dismiss them from joining . . .”

He blinked up to catch her eye again, spreading a smile across his face. “That is brilliant,” he confirmed. “It may be a bit disruptive, but if it’s in the last hours anyway, I see no problem--most of the time that part is just arguing anyway, and these two might be able to disrupt and diffuse it when you call come in.”

He reached up to help ease her double hold by taking up Hnoss from her arm and scooping her close to his chest. “Hear that? You’re going to be one of my chief arbiters.” He gave a gentle tap of one finger to the babe’s nose.

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“Here, I can dual-wield,” she reached out for the other babe with her free hand, scooping Gersemi up to rest at her shoulder adjacent to her sister. Facing each other now, Hnoss and Gersemi blinked at one another before breaking into a babbled conversation–a distraction, if a short one, for their parents.

“Vili and Odin do not have children,” Freyja leveled a look over her daughters’ heads to her husband as he undressed. “One voice you might all be, but there are others who need your attention just as much! Surely the council understands this.”

His offer to cut his workshop time, however, had her pause, to breathe long and reign herself in. Of course the council would not understand … anything not in their interest was beyond their own comprehension … she would have to do something herself, it seemed.

“I do not want you to have to give up your projects,” her voice was softer when she spoke again, “that is your time to do what you need, away from your responsibilities. You should have that.”

“I should be here more often,” Ve shook his head, continuing with his tunic now that Freyja had freed his hands. He tugged the garment over his head and dropped it to the tile floor. “If it means less time on the projects I’ve put on myself, that is something I can control--that I am free to give up.”

“That is fine,” he said, pushing a smile through as he faced her. “I can do that. After all,” he leaned in toward the nearest twin’s head, kissing the top of it. “These two,” he said before turning to kiss the next babe, “are truly the the greatest things I have ever had a hand in creating anyway.”

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“It was only a thought,” Freyja tsked at his refusal.

With one hand she tugged at the sash at her waist, shrugging off a shoulder of her robe and then the other, alternating her hold on Hnoss from one hand to another as she let the sleeves fall from her arms. The short robe quickly fell to her feet and left her ready for their bath.

“You really should plan ahead, Architect,” Freyja nonchalantly stepped out of the pile at her feet, “or spend more time here with us instead of at your workshop or with the Jarls.”

Ve twisted his mouth into a pout at her smug needling at his lack of preparation, but as Gersemi gurgled her amusement at the change in his face, he found he could not be too put out about it.

“You know that the meetings with the Jarls aren’t really negotiable,” he said, shifting the child to one side by his shoulder as he set about unfastening the top of his tunic with one hand. “Vili, Odin, and I are all considered to be one voice in the council to mitigate and manage affairs.” He made it about halfway down his front before Gersemi squirmed and he had to clasp her with both hands, interrupting his work.

“I suppose I could . . . try to cut down on some of my workshop projects,” he offered hesitantly. He was not all that skilled at masking disappointment in his voice.

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Freyja snorted.

“A method to keep a child from squalling and flailing about? I do not think such a thing exists.” Turning the child in her arms back around to face her chest, she playfully wrinkled her nose at her daughter’s continued squirming and babbles. Hnoss merely grabbed at the opening of her mother’s robe, her attention shifted, and felt at the silken texture beneath her chubby fingers. Freyja turned and headed for the bathroom.

“They listen to my father,” she mentioned over her shoulder, “or at least whenever he sings them an old sea shanty from home. It mesmerizes them, like seithr.”

“I am not singing,” Ve replied automatically. “You will have to settle for imitated flatulence noises until a new means can be devised.”

He followed behind her, Gersemi tucked up against him tightly to keep her from squirming away. As they arrived in the bathroom, he peered about at the water in the tub, then to their clothes. “What now?” he asked, looking for a place to set the babe before soaking his sleeve halfway into the water.

Should have rolled them up first, he chided himself. Next time he would make a checklist.

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Hnoss squirmed against her mother’s hold at the sound of her sister’s laughter, curious to see just what she was missing out on. With a kiss at her forehead, Freyja shifted her grip, carefully turning her around to face Ve’s progress at undressing Gersemi for their bath..

“No, Hnoss and Gersemi do not follow any rules we have set out for them, but they have their own way of doing things … If they are hungry, they cry; if they are dirty, they cry; if they are lonely, they cry.”

Hnoss reached out blindly behind her, tiny hands looking to grab on to whatever she could manage.

“And if they cry,” Freyja continued on, “no matter the time or circumstance, we come running to their sides. Their rule is erratic–but absolute.”

The babe in her hold found a fistful of hair and yanked hard, jerking down a thick section of her mother’s strands and, by extension, the head still very much attached to it.

Freyja grit her teeth as she untangled the child’s fingers from her hair. “Your father would have approved, I think.”

“Tch,” Ve huffed at the thought. “He would have challenged them for power,” he countered. “There can only be one absolute ruler of Asgard.”

Gersemi kicked her feet, still stuck with the giggles at the funny sounds her father made with his mouth, anticipating another round of raspberries. “Oh, you like that, hm?” Ve exaggerated his facial expressions in interest. He tucked the inside of his cheeks within his teeth, cinching his lips into a figure-eight and blowing through, releasing a long brrrrrrraaaapppp.

Delighted, Gersemi squealed, nearly dancing in her supine position, and hardly noticing her father’s grasp of the bottom of her dress. Ve sustained the sound and tugged up the dress, yanking it over the babe’s head and finally discarding it to the side. At the end of the noise, he used his lips to plant a quick, wet smooch atop Gersemi’s head.

“Responds well to auroal stimuli,” he mimicked the serious, objective tone he used when identifying changes in his engineering projects. “Noted.”

Her husband’s ridiculous noise had Freyja laughing too despite herself, the babe in her arms jubilantly shrieking and laughing and flailing her little limbs about enough that her mother had to reestablish a firmer grip for fear that Hnoss would eject herself right out of her hold.

“You are riling them up,” Freyja warned. Not necessarily a complaint–she could never complain at the sound of her children’s giggling–but it would complicate their plans.

Easing herself off of their covers, she made a U-path around the foot of their large bed to come and stand at Ve’s side where he still towered over Gersemi, “and if you rile them up, overexcite them, they won’t want to stay still in the bath.”

Hnoss danced in her mother’s hold again at the sight of her sister below her, babbling and carrying on in their secret language. Freyja could only smile.

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“They were not going to stay still in the bath anyway,” Ve pointed out, indicating the squirming babe she held in her arms. “Not based on the evidence I’ve seen.”

He scooped up Gersemi and pinned her close to his chest. “Would you happen to have a method you’ve tried to get them to cooperate without getting them squealing?” he asked, looking somewhat doubtful. “If you do, I am open to trying.”

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Hnoss squirmed against her mother’s hold at the sound of her sister’s laughter, curious to see just what she was missing out on. With a kiss at her forehead, Freyja shifted her grip, carefully turning her around to face Ve’s progress at undressing Gersemi for their bath..

“No, Hnoss and Gersemi do not follow any rules we have set out for them, but they have their own way of doing things … If they are hungry, they cry; if they are dirty, they cry; if they are lonely, they cry.”

Hnoss reached out blindly behind her, tiny hands looking to grab on to whatever she could manage.

“And if they cry,” Freyja continued on, “no matter the time or circumstance, we come running to their sides. Their rule is erratic–but absolute.”

The babe in her hold found a fistful of hair and yanked hard, jerking down a thick section of her mother’s strands and, by extension, the head still very much attached to it.

Freyja grit her teeth as she untangled the child’s fingers from her hair. “Your father would have approved, I think.”

“Tch,” Ve huffed at the thought. “He would have challenged them for power,” he countered. “There can only be one absolute ruler of Asgard.”

“Responds well to auroal stimuli,” he mimicked the serious, objective tone he used when identifying changes in his engineering projects. “Noted.”

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