asgardmeridiem | [open] The Roadhouse's doors are always open...

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[open] The Roadhouse's doors are always open...

Who: Jo Harvelle & you!
What: Some conversations are best had over a beer.
When: various times after dream event.
Where: The Roadhouse
Rating: PG-13?

[ The Roadhouse is most always open - it gives people somewhere to go, and Jo something to do. Some people come to find Jo, other's just come to find peace. Either way, it's good alcohol and an informal atmosphere to forget your troubles for a while...

Just watch out for Ash on the pool table. ]

ooc: had a few plans for Jo and some of her CR, figured I'd throw up an open log for anyone looking for a reason to head to a bar and chat it up with the local, non-native bartender! Feel free to leave OTA tags, or have your characters interact with their own CR with the Roadhouse used as a meeting place of sorts. Totally up to you.

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Oh.

[Yes that would make more sense, wouldn't it? And he just proved her point, didn't he? Too tired to even understand simple conversation.

He sighs and tinkers with his glass.]

How are you faring?

[ she looks at the glass, then back to him, before sighing and turning back to get the bottle - assuming they're going to need a bit more of it before anything is really brought up. ]

I'm, well. Not going to say fine, because that curse was horrible on everyone, but... [ she shrugs a little. ] I don't know. I'm not as surprised about mine as I guess other people are. Guess living through it kind of takes away some of the shock value.

[ or she's just in denial. either way. ]

I do not think it does...

[He lived through his, or well, a variation of it. And it still hit him very badly. The fact that so many people he loves dearly had to endure it as well made it all the worse.]

A painful memory can be worse than any fantasy.

But you know what to expect.

[ she shrugs a little, filling his glass again. ]

There were people out there dreaming things that never could have imagined. Never thought could happen. That's the kind of fear you don't know about, where I prefer to know.

I suppose that would depend on the fear you know.

[Losing everyone he loves while he is left as nothing but a helpless burden, hampering their escape...it is hardly something he was expecting to feel again. He dedicated his life to keep it from happening.

And yet.]

And the fear you don't.

[ she watches his face, tries to gauge his reaction. it bothers her that she can't, and that pulls at her face. pulls her down into a frown. the last thing she wants to do is dredge up something like these dreams if he's just trying to put them behind, but she can't help but feel curious.

the look she gives him is open, curious in that child-like sort of way. ]

What was your dream about?

[He can't put it behind him, never could. It's with him at all times, it fuels his drive, pushed him forward.]

When I was a child my village was attacked by raiders. They slaughtered every man, woman and child, aside for myself.

[No, he hasn't heard about beating around the bush.]

[ she's a little taken back by how easy that was, and maybe that's because of her own skewed interactions with trying to get men to open up.

so she needs a second, to realize that he's not using some metaphor. that he's from a time where villages were attacked by raiders and people didn't survive. she worries her lower lip for a moment, watching him. just checking to make sure it was okay to keep going. ]

How'd you survive?

[His eyes flicker shut for a moment, the pain of the memory almost overwhelming. His voice is measured, speaking slowly is the only way he can be sure to tell the whole tale.]

For a time, I was trapped under my uncle's body. He shielded me from the arrows, and from the raider's sight. When they pulled his body up to steal his clothes, they noticed me, but they had no need for a child's clothes, and by that time mine were too scorched and torn to be used for anything else. I was of no threat to them, my leg having been crashed under my uncle's weight. So they kicked me into the nearest burning building, it was beyond recognition by that time, and to this day I know not who it belonged to.

[He pauses, looking back up at her.] Do you wish me to continue?

[ and jo listens. simple as that. his story is horrible and she can understand the kind of nightmares you'd have from that, but she doesn't let it show on her face. doesn't want him to think it bothers her, even though deep down is does.

part of her wants to reach out for him, put her hand on his or something but she doesn't. just nods. ]

Go ahead.

My mother found me there. There were burns all over her body but she picked me up nonetheless, and somehow I know not how - I was slipping in and out of consciousness - carried me to the forest. We hid, but when it seemed raiders were heading our way, she...bashed a stone against my head, to keep me quiet and hidden, I suppose. It was the last I saw of her. When I awoke next I dragged myself as far as I could go. A merchant found me by the road and kindly tended my wounds.

[ for half a moment, she imagines her own mother. ellen. imagines what she'd do in that situation, how she'd handle it, but then jo has to stop because the pain of missing her is just a little too much. ]

Do you... [ a pause, where jo swallows. ] Do you know what happened to her?

I can imagine.

[She probably shared the same fate as every other woman in the village, and all for the sake of keeping him safe.

His hands tighten around the glass.]

But I did not find her body. The forest was massive, and my injuries hampered my efforts.

[As did his heart; he was afraid of seeing what became of her, a fact he is eternally ashamed of.]

[ it's only when she sees his hands tighten that she finally takes that step, reaches out and sets her hand on his wrist. ]

Hey. [ she doesn't know if he'll look up at her or not. she hopes he does, because she wants him to see the sincerity in her eyes. ] If I know anything about mothers, it's that she'd only care you were alive.

[ a pause, and then she smiles. ]

And a Knight of Camelot. Can't imagine she wouldn't be proud.

[He does look up at her, and the weakness that's reflected in his eyes is very much like that which he wore at the time of the attack. After that nightmare, the story brings him back to that horrible day when his childhood ended.]

I do not know. I do not remember her.

[And that's what really hurts, that's what truly enough to break his heart apart, and open the flood gates. She gave her life for him, and he cannot even name her.]

[ she sees that pain in his eyes and it makes her hurt, more in that she doesn't know how to help. she doesn't know what to say to make it better. she can see that he's hurting and she can't think of a single thing to do. ]

That's not your fault.

No, perhaps it isn't. But if it weren't for me, she could have ran. Her life could have been spared.

[But she gave it for him, and what is he doing with it? Wasting it on a hopeless love that will either hurt the man who knighted him, or steer him away from the title that enables him to protect so many more people?

No. This is good, he needed this wake up call.]

But that's what she wanted. For you to survive, above everything else.

[ she worries her bottom lip for a moment before leaning on her elbows on the bar, leaning closer to him. ]

Mom's tend to do that, you know. Do everything they can for their kids.

They do. My life is a precious gift she has given me twice.

[His lips stretch the slightest bit, in a humorless smile]

I must remember that, and treat it with more respect.

[Do more, every day.]

From what I can see?

[ there's a pause, where she makes sure he sees how sincere she is when she says this. ]

You're doing a real good job. She'd be proud.

I can only hope you are right.

[He's often thought what it might be like, if one day he will find his mother among the revived called forth to Asgard. Would he even recognize her? Her face is but a blur in his mind, as is her voice, as is her name. He only remembers her as mother.

Would she be proud? Would she like him?]

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[open] The Roadhouse's doors are always open...

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THIS THREAD HAS TRAUMA AND VIOLENCE AND AWFUL THINGS NOW BE WARNED.

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