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Interrupted
She doesn't know why, but after visiting Forks she can't sleep at all. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before one of her dreams wake her up. The earlier ones weren't as intense as these are. They jerk her awake, gasping, filling her mind with violent images and sounds. Her father yells, the town burns, someone in the distance laughs.
Even when they aren't as intense, she still can't stomach them. Her mother holds her, reading to her from the Prose Edda, telling her about godly struggles. You're dead, she wants to say, but the words never leave. She curls deeper into her mother's embrace, smells the candle wax and wood smoke that comes off of her hair.
These things are what her mother used to smell like, before her frequent trips and stays in the hospital made her smell like cleaning fluid and sterile lilac. Freya Urdahl had loved to make homemade candles, because the wax was fairly cheap and re-purposed. She'd put Meja to work with the repeated dipping, whenever she made a large amount of them. It had distracted them both away from the fact that, most of the time, Stellan Urdahl didn't come home from the wastes for days. Freya would tell her that he was "working," but never told her what he did.
Now, in her dreams, he screams at Meja and makes her feel shame and rage in the same moment.
Meja stops sleeping. She knows that she shouldn't -- she knows, somewhere, that she should go for help, to figure out what in the nine realms is wrong with her. Her dreams have never been this bad before, or this vivid. But she can't bring herself to ask anyone for help, because the voice unconsciously convinces her that she should be able to work this out herself. She is the Rune Guardian. She needs to take care of herself.
It's so convincing that she doesn't stop to consider that someone has her chain, and is yanking it so hard she can't see straight.
When she returns to the Observatory, she spends long hours remembering the various stories -- and runes -- that her mother imparted to her. She keeps Daybreaker at bay, because summoning it means that her palms bleed for hours on end, and she keeps away from people as best she can. Eventually this practice comes up with some fruit: she remembers protection runes and carves them into parts of her body easily hidden. They work, but not to the extent she wants. She sleeps ten minutes more than usual, and her head hurts less when she wakes.
Not a permanent fix, but it makes her feel less insane.
Even when they aren't as intense, she still can't stomach them. Her mother holds her, reading to her from the Prose Edda, telling her about godly struggles. You're dead, she wants to say, but the words never leave. She curls deeper into her mother's embrace, smells the candle wax and wood smoke that comes off of her hair.
These things are what her mother used to smell like, before her frequent trips and stays in the hospital made her smell like cleaning fluid and sterile lilac. Freya Urdahl had loved to make homemade candles, because the wax was fairly cheap and re-purposed. She'd put Meja to work with the repeated dipping, whenever she made a large amount of them. It had distracted them both away from the fact that, most of the time, Stellan Urdahl didn't come home from the wastes for days. Freya would tell her that he was "working," but never told her what he did.
Now, in her dreams, he screams at Meja and makes her feel shame and rage in the same moment.
Meja stops sleeping. She knows that she shouldn't -- she knows, somewhere, that she should go for help, to figure out what in the nine realms is wrong with her. Her dreams have never been this bad before, or this vivid. But she can't bring herself to ask anyone for help, because the voice unconsciously convinces her that she should be able to work this out herself. She is the Rune Guardian. She needs to take care of herself.
It's so convincing that she doesn't stop to consider that someone has her chain, and is yanking it so hard she can't see straight.
When she returns to the Observatory, she spends long hours remembering the various stories -- and runes -- that her mother imparted to her. She keeps Daybreaker at bay, because summoning it means that her palms bleed for hours on end, and she keeps away from people as best she can. Eventually this practice comes up with some fruit: she remembers protection runes and carves them into parts of her body easily hidden. They work, but not to the extent she wants. She sleeps ten minutes more than usual, and her head hurts less when she wakes.
Not a permanent fix, but it makes her feel less insane.