17265/The Farseer's Eye

The Farseer's Eye
Date of Scene:	24 February 2024
Location:	Palace - Asgard
Synopsis:	Frigga heals Thor's injury.
Cast of Characters:	Frigga, Thor

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Frigga has posed:
Asgard. The name conjures up many images, depending upon the individual. For some, it is the Viking warrior stories of old and for others, it's the charm caught within the runes, the Elder Futhark left behind. The writings of the Norse that had followed their gods so closely, had communed with them, fought side by side with them, had left little in the way of exactly who and what they truly are. Other than 'gods', and their particular spheres. Even that has become so rote, so generalized that the meanings have long since been forgotten.

The Aesir, however, are multi-faceted. Warriors strong, stout and proud, absolutely. But there are some, a select few really, that hold on to the threads that the Norn use to weave their tapestry of history, present and future, with some 'fate' brought along for the ride, as it were. The All Mother, the Queen of Asgard, wife of Odin, the All Father, King of Asgard is one of those who hold a special relationship with time, space, and the universe. All in its time, all with its purpose. Things done in the past will come forward and present themselves when ready.

It's a sleep initially devoid of dream. That's where it begins, the moment when the spirit of Frigga holds court with the souls that guide Fate's path. The dream is so real, so interwoven with day to day issues, problems are greeted with solutions. The phrase 'sleep on it' holds special meaning.

Frigga is the guardian, the holder of an object which had been offered to Loki for study and returned once again at its time. Odin thought that Loki would only benefit from the study of the item, challenge him as to purpose of both the item and Loki's own place.

Frigga wakes from her slumber, hardly refreshed, but with purpose. Looking beside her at the spot on the bed where her husband had slept, would sleep again when the time came, she exhales in a quick, audible breath and begins to dress quickly in the darkness, the chamber illuminated only by the declining moon.

"Why hadn't I thought of that before?" she questions herself softly in the quiet of the room. "Of course. Why wouldn't it show it's purpose now?" She had tried to challenge its will for Odin, but it was not to be. The object, a magic imbued orb, has chosen its time and its place.

Thor has posed:
Odin is present, though not immediately in the room. He is close enough to hear her, from his current place of respite, out on the balcony veranda. The windows are open to the beautiful moonlit night, and the king of Asgard was close at hand to where Frigga had her uneven recent slumber.

He turns his head a small amount, a smile that is subtle. One of those impossible All Father smiles, that reflect inward, but they also carry a depth that is special for Frigga, when he puts his attention to her with his deep appraisal.

"Did your dreams bring you some clarity, this night, my queen?" Odin asks her, then. He isn't speaking up, he doesn't have to. He knows she can hear his brass tones clearly through the windows.

Frigga has posed:
The form and figure of Odin on the balcony hadn't been noticed, but when the deep, melodious tones address her, Frigga turns to smile warmly to her husband, deep blue eyes filled with ever present love and affection. There, she can see the familiar outline, and as she begins her quick dressing, she pulls her hair back into a quick, single long braid in the back. "They did. Such stories had eluded me, but apparently they hadn't been needed until now." Crossing the distance with a sure, padded foot, she holds a hand out to caress his arm, albeit briefly. (Where does Thor get his demonstrative nature?) "For our son's need."

Thor has posed:
"The taspestry needs more than a single color of a strand, or it would be very simple and uninspiring indeed," Odin answers in his obscure way, though his tone suggests he agrees with her assessment and thoughts. That whatever he is saying is supportive, but not a direct guideline. There are plenty of times when Odin will give a hard edict, and then the others are obfuscated like this, to allow others to make their own paths.

Sometimes the path is the only way to reach the end, that growth there. "It is difficult to not act immediately, when you can see clearly what they do not. To allow a loved one to walk through pain until they are ready to help themselves." Odin was immoving, but now moves, to draw his wife in, angle her head to his upper chest for the time, brush her golden hair back beyond an ear against the ribbon of beauty that adorn it.

"Time alone heals nothing, but finally seeking you... then your influence can take root, to aid him. I have hope."

Frigga has posed:
There are reasons why Odin is called the 'All Father'. His counsel is thoughtfully stated, and his edicts, while they may be harsh (unduly so at times in Frigga's mind), all have reason behind it to shore it up. He is the one who rules his people with careful balance. There are reasons for Frigga's title as well, beyond her 'motherhood' aspect of the gods. Their children, at least, understand 'mom and dad' and how they complement the other.

Frigga is taken into his strong arms; the memories of gentle love and fierce warrior combined held with her. "It is the worst part of being a parent. Teaching them, and then letting go in the hopes they survive. Love becomes freedom." She shakes her head against his chest, ever so subtly, "He should have others around him that could aid him." Unspoken there, of course, is 'Loki'. Didn't they grow up knowing that they'd always be side by side? Wasn't that the hope?

Hope springs eternal within Frigga.

Her hand rises to stroke his cheek, her fingers playing upon his face, leaving the warm touch behind. "One day there will be another, but not now. Not this time. I need to go to him. He lies in pain, relief only given by temporary magics."

Thor has posed:
"I know the pain well. It is not my favorite teacher... but it can be necessary." Odin is ever one to enforce tough love, or things that Frigga feels are too harsh, too difficult, too demanding or even humiliating. But that is Odin's stubbornness, his pride, and his own determination to treat his sons with the same blade he'd force upon himself.

"Another, hmmmm. If any of them decide to become adults," Odin says, with the grumpiness of a father that both wants what is best, but also recalls very well the tiny children, in the same blink of a very long life. He inclines his head to her as she determines it is time to go to Thor, staying aside from what is Frigga's duty: balancing the often harsh hand of Odin with her compassion.

Frigga has posed:
Frigga laughs softly, the sound in her throat. It's an honest one, and she's left with the smile. "We shall have grandchildren one day. You will bounce them on your knee and take them for walks around the palace as you did your own sons." She presses her lips to his briefly, the action meant to soothe his heart as much as hers. Neither of them like to see their children in pain, even if it is 'necessary'. "And you both deserved a salve." Though, this will perhaps be just a little bit more?

Finally, Frigga relinquishes her own hold upon her husband, and inclines her head as wife to husband. "Now to attend our son. Once this burden is lifted, he will have more... clarity of sight for any others he may yet carry."

Thor has posed:
"You may feel I am too harsh on him, but... he will hold the crown, ultimately. This is necessary," Odin decrees. There is force in his tone, but not anger. Just a statement, that leaves his own emotions about it out of the mix. He does not try to rule by emotion, and likes to think that he never does: always cool and collected. Not that that is what happens... but even a god-king has his own perception in the lens of denial.

--

Thor, in his chamber, didn't really sleep. He 'rested', which is not sleep, but it is better than nothing. He is there now, flung bodily backwards onto his bed at some point, with a big hunk of frozen ice held to his face, flecks of the injury in red tints sparking amoungst the ice. He's not entirely dressed; just in a leathered kilt over tawny comfortable camel-soft pants and calf boots, chest bare, as if the drips of ice were necessary to weather against bare skin.

Frigga has posed:
Frigga only brings up her disagreements behind closed doors, far away from even the ears of advisors. It is no secret that the Queen is his truest advisor; one that is not afraid to speak when she feels injustice has been done, or with praise. Always with love and solidarity, however. Always.

The declaration given just before her exit has her pausing in her step, and she turns to look at him. Her expression is, as usual, filled with love and patience, as one would wait for another for their own self-realization. It works so well for one of their sons after all...

Turning, Frigga departs and moves down the corridor quickly. There is a side stop, into a room that is hidden in plain view. Only a couple of people know of its presence beyond her; Odin and Loki. The door is charmed, and she enters quickly only to exit seconds later with a small woven purple pouch in hand.

Holding it close to her as she takes the grand hallways, she arrives at Thor's chamber. Courtesy is to knock, which she does ever so softly; a gentle rapping at his chamber door. Only this and nothing more!

Thor has posed:
Thor moves with a start, sitting up and opening his eye. The mixed lack of sleep plus knocking is disorienting. Was the knock real? Thor grunts, reaching to the bowl to drop the ice chunk there, and pulls over the oversized towel he'd found to keep some of the moisture at bay. He drapes it over the same shoulder as the injury, one hand bringing it up to cover that side of his face, as he troops over to the door. A glance down showed some feet on the opposite side blocking light, so someone is still there.

"Yes?" Thor questions, unaware of who it is, and semi-groggy, as he opens the door. His nose and brow are wrinkled, but expression instantly changes when he determines it's not Loki to tease him for some impossible reason in the darkness. "Mother," Thor says, with a surprised beat, and steps back, giving her room to enter, if that's her whim.

Frigga has posed:
Frigga hears movement and motion; she had a feeling that he wasn't sleeping. At least he was able to relax, if nothing else. Too often physical injures hold psychological scars. She can't help but smile, even though the concern lingers behind those eyes.

The expression remains as the door is open, and she's greeted with surprised tones. Invited in, Frigga moves towards the middle of the room, both hands holding a small, purple bag before her, lowered. "I have a solution. You, however, will have to trust me." Her words are soft, spoken with a seriousness that belies her expression of concern and affection. "Will you?"

Thor has posed:
Thor is absolutely puzzled, but he's awakened very quickly out of the murky middle place he was in. It wasn't asleep, so there's no sands of sleepiness to shake off: more that he'd been deep into his own thoughts. And often, the mix of pain and inability to sleep can create some dark and bleak thoughts indeed, going over old guilt, or memory.

"Yes, always. Though I--have questions," Thor admits. The 'questions' word floats, in that he'd like to know what to expect, but does trust her if she determines he has to sit and be quiet. He is able to do that, too. He follows her, taking the note from her serious leadership, and looks at the bag, then, lowering the towel to let it drape across broad shoulder, looped once on forearm, which exposes the injury. His hair is still shortened, there's no mane of gold to hide in.

Frigga has posed:
Loki was wrong; it was a scrying relic. It simply wasn't in the form that he recognized as a valid form. This one is different...

Frigga nods in the briefest of motions. "As you should always. I was reminded that I had ability to help you. That what I held in care was offered first to your father, but it refused, and he refused. The time, the place and the person were all wrong. Now, however, all is right."

She still stands in the middle of the room and watches his cross to sit. She shakes her head and gestures towards the bed with a soft, "You need to lie down." Perhaps he gets a hint as to what she is referring; what remedy to which ailment..

Approaching her son now, Frigga removes a small object from the pouch, wrapped inside a gauze. "Your brother had this, studied this. We had hoped he had insight that we did not have."

Thor has posed:
Thor looks perplexed, as he does not know what she is talking about at first. Sometimes he does not pick up threads as quickly, but perhaps his exhaustion is just making that more apparent. He /feels/ his way through it, though, and picks up all of the cues of her intent, and the weight of what she conveys. Thor tends to get frustrated with Odin's obscuring tone, but never Frigga's. He knows patience is needed, she won't let him spin in the wind.

Thor returns to the bed as requested, and lays back, listening and watching her. "My brother?" Thor asks, though. "....did he?" Thor asks, though there's some incredulous question there. If his brother did learn, did he keep it selfishly? Thor would like to hope otherwise, though.

Frigga has posed:
"No."

The word is simple, but it does carry a little bit of meaning behind it. Disappointed parents? No. Loki still has much to learn, just as Thor does. It's never used against either of them, however. Never against any of her children.

"Remember how I would sing you to sleep when you had a toothache? Or in those nights of bad dreams?" Frigga sitting bedside, watching over her kids to keep the 'bad' at bay until sleep was gained is etched into her own memory. Stories told in whispers, songs sung that spoke of the fantastical, or of battles fought and the love of family at homecoming. Deep within the words, however, magic was weaved; protection magics underscored the words with Thor (or Loki) being the topic of each ballad. This she begins again, beginning at bedside. With washcloth at hand, the cold water is daubed, the area cleaned gently as she hums.

Thor has posed:
"I remember there was a song... but I could not tell you the words to it," Thor says, quietly. But he is not unhappy or sad about that; she is here, and does know the words. Perhaps in his way, taking that for granted, that she will always be there, to be a comfort in those times. Too young, still, to see a place when she might not be.

Thor relaxes, though, as it is easier to simply return into that past role, to let her lead them both through what she intends to help him understand, here. No resistance in this time - she asked for trust, but there was no need to ask for it: she always has it, from this son.

Frigga has posed:
Frigga hums softly before words begin to crop up here and there in the middle of the wordless melody. "'Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee. All through the night, fearsome valkyries will defend thee...'" With each rise in the notes, she cleans a little more.

It's the relaxation that Frigga seeks. Everything is easier with relaxation. The muscles don't fight, the nerves feel less of the pain as they're tugged and pulled.. and with expert ability, the All Mother is simply Thor's mom tonight.

There is a pause of ministration, however. A moment when there is no touch, no pressure given at his visage. The music doesn't pause, her voice singing low in the quiet of the room. The words have gone from lullaby of centuries past to the more arcane. The older words that has been forgotten by all but a few that yet remain and know of the power. There are words that can almost be discerned; almost. It's a gentle, rhythmic tone, one that has few rises and ebbs but rather is a continuous flow.

Peace.

Peace.

The small relic that she now holds in hand shimmers a deep, warm blue, shining a light that seems to not only cut away the dimness of the room, but shines through the ethereal, lighting the way.

It approves.

Thor has posed:
Thor wanted to watch, to view the pulse of light, the shine of the ethereal. Seeing Frigga at work is a rare, incredible priviledge: one her sons find very normal. But in the moment, Thor senses the quality of this special feat she is performing, and the odd sense of humility in it.

Thor echoes, empathizing with the humility in this act of asking for aid, and closes his eyes, letting things be what they will be, and trying to allow himself to accept what will happen.

And so Thor is not aware of the blue: magically warm despite the color, like a clean blue sky flecked with the warm rays of sunlight through it, that will alight over his face and form.

Frigga has posed:
This is something so rare for Frigga to do. Some would call her 'witch', some would fear her, some would hate her, but there would be no one save her family that would have the faith that this is 'simply her'. She's hidden a great deal in her life, even taking up the sword when necessary rather than staying behind. Thor's mom is a multi-faceted jewel of Asgard, and very few know the truth of it.

In her hand, then, the relic seeks to cleanse. It not only removes but replaces, reforms and rebuilds that which has been lost, been damaged, been frayed without close. Placing her hands once again beside Thor's face, there is a moment when she watches his breathing, watching his chest rise and fall in time with her words, her melody, her magic. In the next breath, it is gone from her hand, and there, within the deep, empty socket of his lost eye and injured face, the blue glows softly. Approvingly.

The right place, the right time, the right person.

Thor has posed:
Thor may have startled in any other situation where someone was suddenly touching his face, but he is so relaxed now, and in a way, using his own sense to undersand that her touch is coming. He can feel every cell of his own body, in this process - or perhaps the slightest tingle of static electricity against his skin to know that her hands are near. After all, he is not the god of hammers, but of even those faint electrical sense, when he finally opens himself up to being that.

The healing is not all relaxed and pleasant, though; the seize of regeneration has impact, and is disorienting, as the nerves pluck. Not exactly pain, but something else, and Thor flinches, but weathers it, and it smooths out, trails of the blue shimmer rolling away from the healing eyelid, down into the scar furrows that fill and lift with regenerating skin, a moisture of the reforming tear ducts, all of it. He opens both eyes, though the world remains dark in that side, he can see... a mass of stars, in that dark space of retina. A galaxy of hues.

Some other sight, for this time between.

Frigga has posed:
It is a relic of scrying. Both Odin and Frigga were right in this. Loki simply didn't see it, didn't see past what it wanted him to see. Perhaps his view was hidden by the item itself? It has preferences, it has what it believes to be its Fate. There is no malignancy within; Frigga would have seen it immediately. There is very little that can hide its essence for very long, and if she had any doubt whatsoever, this, right here and right now, would not be happening.

The blue merges with the red, both light and deep crimson. It repairs, it cauterizes, it makes its bed to lie in as it were.

And at the end?

Both eyes open, and Frigga can almost feel the wonder, the vision that undoubtedly lies before him. She reaches a hand out, laying it gently upon his chest, just above that beating heart. "Now is the time to heal. To rest. When this is done, and you should not try to rush, then you will be prepared for the next thing. For now? Banish your thoughts. You will come to them in their cells and there you will pass judgement on them."