HOME | DD

Description
Hel sat down next to me, holding two glasses. “Here,” she said, thrusting a glass filled with a golden liquid towards me. Sworls of a darker amber roiled in the deeper recesses of the drink. She nodded to the half-empty bottle in my hands. “You’ve been nursing that beer for the last hour. The local brew tastes like pisswater and is just as thin. They mostly use it to keep themselves hydrated in the heat.” She swirled the glass a little, and tiny vortexes of the twin liquids played inside the cup. “Try this. Min bestefar swears by it.”

I took the glass and examined the contents carefully. “What is it?”

“Mjød og whisky.”

I understood the word ‘whiskey’ well enough, and her own glass seemed filled with some. The first part eluded me. “Me… odd?” I tried to mimic her pronunciation, but I expected I had it wrong.

She gave me a wry smile. “Mead. Honningvin.” She thought for a minute. “Honey-wine. Mixed with whiskey.” She looked at me expectantly. “Try it. It’ll settle your ails.”

I set the beer down and obediently raised the glass to my lips and sipped. A sweetness, almost oppressively so, flooded my tongue, followed by a sharp smoky flavour that softened the cloying saccharine, adding a heady complexity. I looked up after sipping to see a brief flash of pride cross Hel’s face. My reaction must have been telling.

“I told you,” she said, leaning back and savouring her own drink. “Just be careful. Mjød can sneak up on you quickly.”

I nodded at the advice and sipped some more carefully. The flavours played and mixed on my tongue as I enjoyed the sensation. The honey seemed to overwhelm the smell and flavour of the alcohol although I could already feel its impact.

Hel had traded places with Ben and Morrigan sometime during the last few hours. The two of them had been on and off the dance floor all night, stopping only to polish off more drinks and chat animatedly in the secret language truly close friends seemed to have. On their last return Ben had loudly declared she was exhausted and promptly curled up with her head on Morrigan’s lap. Morrigan made a show of protest but it was clear she had no real objection.

“They seem close,” I commented, continuing to nurse the mead. Hel had been taciturn most of the evening, so I wasn’t entirely expecting a response. I was just filling the silence with a tongue that had been loosed somewhat from the drink.

“Kråke is difficult to like, but for some reason Minerva really takes to her.”

I suspected kråke was a Scandinavian word for crow, which was the name Morrigan had used during the flight. From the few times Hel spoke she appeared to have a habit of lacing her English with another language. It sounded almost Icelandic, but I wasn’t familiar enough to pin it down. It was obvious Morrigan and Hel did not get along, but they seemed to work well together from what I recalled in those hazy hours.

I don’t know why I said something. I barely knew these people and their interpersonal conflicts were really none of my business. “Ben really doesn’t like that name. Why do you use it?”

Hel’s eyes snapped open and she stared at me with an unreadable intensity. “Well now,” she finally said, “you’re not so soft after all.” She shifted and leaned into the back of the sofa, turning her gaze towards the Ben and Morrigan.

I had no retort so sat in silence. It was broken, slowly, deliberately, as though she was carefully considering each word. “You don’t chose your name. Your names chose you.” Hel stared into her drink, although I had a feeling she was looking through it to some unseen inner space. “Minerva has earned that name. She’ll realize it eventually. I’m just hurrying the process along.” The moment passed and she grinned, downing her drink.

She stood suddenly. “I think I need you to have another of those,” she said, reaching a hand out towards my now empty glass. “I have a feeling I can prize some interesting conversation out of you with enough lubrication.”

***

This is a bonus shot, really. After Ben and Hel - Meeting I was inspired to continue. Much of this is me shaping in my head how certain scenes will play out. Final versions will likely differ a fair bit. I hope you all enjoy the process as I work through these.

I will say, Hel's rework has really grown on me. When I first started putting this series together she had quite a different role, but I like how she is shaping into everything.

Description
Hel sat down next to me, holding two glasses. “Here,” she said, thrusting a glass filled with a golden liquid towards me. Sworls of a darker amber roiled in the deeper recesses of the drink. She nodded to the half-empty bottle in my hands. “You’ve been nursing that beer for the last hour. The local brew tastes like pisswater and is just as thin. They mostly use it to keep themselves hydrated in the heat.” She swirled the glass a little, and tiny vortexes of the twin liquids played inside the cup. “Try this. Min bestefar swears by it.”

I took the glass and examined the contents carefully. “What is it?”

“Mjød og whisky.”

I understood the word ‘whiskey’ well enough, and her own glass seemed filled with some. The first part eluded me. “Me… odd?” I tried to mimic her pronunciation, but I expected I had it wrong.

She gave me a wry smile. “Mead. Honningvin.” She thought for a minute. “Honey-wine. Mixed with whiskey.” She looked at me expectantly. “Try it. It’ll settle your ails.”

I set the beer down and obediently raised the glass to my lips and sipped. A sweetness, almost oppressively so, flooded my tongue, followed by a sharp smoky flavour that softened the cloying saccharine, adding a heady complexity. I looked up after sipping to see a brief flash of pride cross Hel’s face. My reaction must have been telling.

“I told you,” she said, leaning back and savouring her own drink. “Just be careful. Mjød can sneak up on you quickly.”

I nodded at the advice and sipped some more carefully. The flavours played and mixed on my tongue as I enjoyed the sensation. The honey seemed to overwhelm the smell and flavour of the alcohol although I could already feel its impact.

Hel had traded places with Ben and Morrigan sometime during the last few hours. The two of them had been on and off the dance floor all night, stopping only to polish off more drinks and chat animatedly in the secret language truly close friends seemed to have. On their last return Ben had loudly declared she was exhausted and promptly curled up with her head on Morrigan’s lap. Morrigan made a show of protest but it was clear she had no real objection.

“They seem close,” I commented, continuing to nurse the mead. Hel had been taciturn most of the evening, so I wasn’t entirely expecting a response. I was just filling the silence with a tongue that had been loosed somewhat from the drink.

“Kråke is difficult to like, but for some reason Minerva really takes to her.”

I suspected kråke was a Scandinavian word for crow, which was the name Morrigan had used during the flight. From the few times Hel spoke she appeared to have a habit of lacing her English with another language. It sounded almost Icelandic, but I wasn’t familiar enough to pin it down. It was obvious Morrigan and Hel did not get along, but they seemed to work well together from what I recalled in those hazy hours.

I don’t know why I said something. I barely knew these people and their interpersonal conflicts were really none of my business. “Ben really doesn’t like that name. Why do you use it?”

Hel’s eyes snapped open and she stared at me with an unreadable intensity. “Well now,” she finally said, “you’re not so soft after all.” She shifted and leaned into the back of the sofa, turning her gaze towards the Ben and Morrigan.

I had no retort so sat in silence. It was broken, slowly, deliberately, as though she was carefully considering each word. “You don’t chose your name. Your names chose you.” Hel stared into her drink, although I had a feeling she was looking through it to some unseen inner space. “Minerva has earned that name. She’ll realize it eventually. I’m just hurrying the process along.” The moment passed and she grinned, downing her drink.

She stood suddenly. “I think I need you to have another of those,” she said, reaching a hand out towards my now empty glass. “I have a feeling I can prize some interesting conversation out of you with enough lubrication.”

***

This is a bonus shot, really. After Ben and Hel - Meeting I was inspired to continue. Much of this is me shaping in my head how certain scenes will play out. Final versions will likely differ a fair bit. I hope you all enjoy the process as I work through these.

I will say, Hel's rework has really grown on me. When I first started putting this series together she had quite a different role, but I like how she is shaping into everything.