Post by Sigurd on May 22, 2016 0:11:50 GMT
Truthfully, he'd been more than hesitant to agree to Chaldea's latest request when it came to him. An experiment to delve once more into his past with an individual he had known in life. Considering the rather winding path his story had taken in life, chances were that he would not be experiencing any particularly happy memories on this little adventure. However, it only took a moment for the dragon slayer to push though misgivings aside and agree to assist the researchers with their work. Unpleasant though it may be, this technology supposedly carried the potential to better equip them against coming threats in their quest to save mankind. If he needed to withstand a painful memory or two to make that happen, so be it.
Climbing into the experimental machine, Sigurd was informed that his partner for this assignment would be arriving shortly after he was sealed within the machine and fully immersed within his own memories. The fact that they had made it a point to not mention who his partner would be was not lost on him but he was willing to let the issue die without pressing matters. Perhaps him knowing would affect their test in some way. Then again, even if it wouldn't, he somewhat preferred not knowing. No reason to chew over the memories he would soon be reliving before he even entered the machine.
Reclining back into the strange pod-like device, Sigurd found himself shut off from the outside world. Sights, sounds, everything gradually faded away until he was left with nothing but his own thoughts. Before long, those thoughts began to drift further and further from Chaldea and this experiment, fading into an utter darkness that consumed his consciousness whole. For a time, he remained in that abyss devoid of stimulus or thought, adrift in the far corners of his mind until slowly but surely, the world was returned to him. Cool stone stretched out beneath him to form a floor. Yet more smoothly crafted blocks formed the walls around him. Above him rested an expansive wooden ceiling comprised of great beams of ancient oak and massive timber support columns driven into the floor. It was quite a large room, currently occupied with milling grounds collected at the various banquet tables dotting the room, each of them overflowing with food and ale. At the far end of the room, a great fire raged within a massive stone fireplace. In another corner, a group of musicians worked their instruments with polished skill and precision, adding a bit of entertainment to the celebration.
Apart from the bulk of the merriment, Sigurd sat alone. Before him, a plate of food had barely been touched and a goblet remained nearly full. Gone was the full set of armor he'd worn as he stepped into Chaldea's invention along with his peerless blade and the memories beyond the events he found himself in once more. Gudrun was celebrating once more. As to what it was this time, he could not say, having long since given up in trying to keep track of the celebrations which seemed to endlessly shake this castle. Once upon a time, he might have joined in the thick of it, sharing drinks and stories by the fire, but not tonight. How could he celebrate in good conscience after leaving his first love like that? The hurt and rage simmering within her eyes when she learned the truth of his deception was as clear as day in his mind's eye. He'd believed himself bound by loyalty and an oath of service to his new found family, even if they had manipulated his hand into joining, and so he had aided Gunnar's quest, gnashing his teeth and biting his tongue all the while. He'd hoped against hope that matters would sort themselves out. That Gunnar's love was genuine enough to ensure his first love's happiness for the rest of her days. He'd been a fool. A naive fool.
Raising his goblet at last, he brought it to his lips and took a long drink to try and wash the foul taste from his mouth. However, before the ale could pass his lips, the dragon slayer froze in place, eyes widening. A silent tremor had moved through the castle, a powerful chill that seeped into one's very bones. It was a mighty bloodlust greater than any the Norseman had felt since felling the great sky demon. Their senses not quite as sharp as his own, the rest of the assembled gallery slowly began to catch the foreboding feeling as well, finding themselves drawn to the nearest window in an attempt to understand what was going on. Setting down his goblet, Sigurd didn't bother moving towards the window, already knowing full well what the source of that wrath must be. Smoothly rising from the table, the beckoned over a young man, a loyal servant of the household for several years now.
"Bring me my sword from my room, boy. As fast as you possibly can. Go," he commanded. The son of Sigmund never shouted, never raised his voice against the boy, but the seriousness of his tone carried his meaning well enough. This little fetch quest was of the gravest importance and to his credit, the boy obeyed immediately, darting out of the hall in a full sprint to the dragon slayer's nearby room.
Climbing into the experimental machine, Sigurd was informed that his partner for this assignment would be arriving shortly after he was sealed within the machine and fully immersed within his own memories. The fact that they had made it a point to not mention who his partner would be was not lost on him but he was willing to let the issue die without pressing matters. Perhaps him knowing would affect their test in some way. Then again, even if it wouldn't, he somewhat preferred not knowing. No reason to chew over the memories he would soon be reliving before he even entered the machine.
Reclining back into the strange pod-like device, Sigurd found himself shut off from the outside world. Sights, sounds, everything gradually faded away until he was left with nothing but his own thoughts. Before long, those thoughts began to drift further and further from Chaldea and this experiment, fading into an utter darkness that consumed his consciousness whole. For a time, he remained in that abyss devoid of stimulus or thought, adrift in the far corners of his mind until slowly but surely, the world was returned to him. Cool stone stretched out beneath him to form a floor. Yet more smoothly crafted blocks formed the walls around him. Above him rested an expansive wooden ceiling comprised of great beams of ancient oak and massive timber support columns driven into the floor. It was quite a large room, currently occupied with milling grounds collected at the various banquet tables dotting the room, each of them overflowing with food and ale. At the far end of the room, a great fire raged within a massive stone fireplace. In another corner, a group of musicians worked their instruments with polished skill and precision, adding a bit of entertainment to the celebration.
Apart from the bulk of the merriment, Sigurd sat alone. Before him, a plate of food had barely been touched and a goblet remained nearly full. Gone was the full set of armor he'd worn as he stepped into Chaldea's invention along with his peerless blade and the memories beyond the events he found himself in once more. Gudrun was celebrating once more. As to what it was this time, he could not say, having long since given up in trying to keep track of the celebrations which seemed to endlessly shake this castle. Once upon a time, he might have joined in the thick of it, sharing drinks and stories by the fire, but not tonight. How could he celebrate in good conscience after leaving his first love like that? The hurt and rage simmering within her eyes when she learned the truth of his deception was as clear as day in his mind's eye. He'd believed himself bound by loyalty and an oath of service to his new found family, even if they had manipulated his hand into joining, and so he had aided Gunnar's quest, gnashing his teeth and biting his tongue all the while. He'd hoped against hope that matters would sort themselves out. That Gunnar's love was genuine enough to ensure his first love's happiness for the rest of her days. He'd been a fool. A naive fool.
Raising his goblet at last, he brought it to his lips and took a long drink to try and wash the foul taste from his mouth. However, before the ale could pass his lips, the dragon slayer froze in place, eyes widening. A silent tremor had moved through the castle, a powerful chill that seeped into one's very bones. It was a mighty bloodlust greater than any the Norseman had felt since felling the great sky demon. Their senses not quite as sharp as his own, the rest of the assembled gallery slowly began to catch the foreboding feeling as well, finding themselves drawn to the nearest window in an attempt to understand what was going on. Setting down his goblet, Sigurd didn't bother moving towards the window, already knowing full well what the source of that wrath must be. Smoothly rising from the table, the beckoned over a young man, a loyal servant of the household for several years now.
"Bring me my sword from my room, boy. As fast as you possibly can. Go," he commanded. The son of Sigmund never shouted, never raised his voice against the boy, but the seriousness of his tone carried his meaning well enough. This little fetch quest was of the gravest importance and to his credit, the boy obeyed immediately, darting out of the hall in a full sprint to the dragon slayer's nearby room.