Posted by Civilian Seamus McKenzie (Future Citizen) in Earth - Somewhere

(snip)

The way her name rolled off his scottish brogue was like a warmed blanket by the bonfires on vintersolverv (winter solstice). She felt it deep in her core, and it terrified her. Need, Anything? Oh boy…could she think of somethings to fit that bill. Last of which was a ride out of here to a room, no wait…first first thing she needed was a ride out of there…Ragna glanced up at him, her focus not great, but her gaze direct and in the shadows of the flickering firelight hopefully he didn’t see her blush. She was 4 time world champion in live blade combat. Yeah she could use it, with deadly accuracy. But he didn’t need to know that, right?

He came down with a massive Claymore. Sheathed in black leather with crimson wrapped grip and a cat’s eye agate set in the pommel, it was over five feet long from pommel to tip and obviously very well cared for. He laid it almost reverently on the table in front of her, his attention so focused on it he didn’t notice he had gently laid a hand on her shoulder… as if he had always done so. “This one is mine, Ragna… my claidheamh mòr. I, too, can use it blindfolded. But I hope neither of us has cause to do so. I would hate to hear what either of our Chiefs would say if we spilled each other’s blood when we are supposed to be helping Revna and Michael.”

Seamus McKenzie, Sometimes Size Does Matter

She didn’t even notice his hand, so natural and right was the gesture. The Claymore was beautiful, a work of art, the craftmanship breathtaking. She didn’t touch it, you never touched someone else’s blade, it was just a respect thing. But her hand ran an inch above it, as if she could feel the soul of it without touching it. “Faktisk et stort sverd. (A great sword, indeed). Did your sister make it? Or is it the McKenzie sword?” Under normal circumstances she could look at it and tell, but that would require a great deal of visual focus at the moment. Too bad too, she’d love to get a close look at it; the historian in her bouncing gleefully at such a piece. “I’m more afraid of what Revna would make me do. She’s scary.” She turned in the seat to reach for her own, not an ego thing, but pride in the craftmanship and her family. It was then she noticed his hand and she froze, sparks igniting. Did he notice? She leaned down too quickly for it, disrupting the delicate equilibrium she’d created. She paused, and without thinking of the consequences, “Ummm…would…would you hand it to me, Seamus?”
Ragna Edman, What did I just do????

“Aye… that is the sword of Clan McKenzie. Given to the the Clan Marshall upon their confirmation in the role. They carry it for life. If they die before another takes their place, the same sword is passed on to the next. If they live and a new Marshall is named while they breathe, they are buried with their sword as a token of thanks. This one… this one has been made for me by Hrjold Grunsfeld. I’m sure you know the name.” Of course she would. She was brilliant and gorgeous and… GET YOUR HED OUTTA IT, LAD! his brain screamed. But he wasn’t listening.

Her eyes widened at the name and she leaned forward in excitement, creating a wave of dizziness, she closed her eyes till it passed, the throbbing boom in her head wasn’t going to go away though. One finger delicately point at the pommel and traced down the length of the massive handle and back and then her face broke into a huge smile as her tracing stopped at the very edge of the cross guard. “There…I never thought I’d see one up close.” It was Grunsfeld’s signature, his smith’s mark worked subtly into the designs etched on the blade, subtle and hidden. Most never found it if they didn’t know exactly where to look. It was of course a piece of living history as the sword for his clan but also the living history of a great smith. “Eireachdail (magnificent).”

Seamus nodded and reached for the blade and, grasping it with great respect , lifted it over to her and set it by her side. His brain yelled something about Look! Look! Look!, but he brushed the thought away. Looking at her hand hover over his blade, he said “I give you my blessing, Ragna. Feel the steel for yourself.” and he sat down across from her, the storm… and the world… outside forgotten.

Seamus McKenzie, Blade… Fire… Food… There Is A Pattern Here We Should See… But Not Yet

Ragna’s blade was the perfection of a B@#&^$! Sword. It was exactly 48 inches in total length, making it only a mere foot shorter than Seamus’ Claymore, the handle on hers measured 13 inches, a perfect two handed length for her, but would allow a modified hand and half for a larger wielder. A typical sword would range between 5 and 8 pounds, but hers was significantly lighter, this was a blade she could wield for hours and not tire, but the steel was hard and solid. She loosened it in the sheath and set it on the table, where he could see it, practically in his hand. “Go ahead, I think it’s one of the best pieces my uncle ever made.” The pommel black steel and forged, not poured, into the Edman crest, and small rune of Idun on the bottom right corner. The handle wrapped in soft grey sheep skin and wrapped in a rich forest brown tanned suede leather cording. The blade was razor sharp, and obviously put through it’s daily paces, but well cared for.

Seamus nodded his appreciation and lifted the blade, feeling its balance and remarkable lightness. He slid it partly out of its sheathe and gazed at the craftsmanship, the care… the love that went into the blade. It was evident in every part. “This is art… pure art.”

She looked up at him briefly, some warning going off in her head, about wielding a clan’s sword. She set her hand over the upper half of the handle and lifted it with surprising control. She’d never manage fighting with it one handed, but then a beast like this required two hands at the controls. She reached out with her other hand gently loosening it in the scabbard, just a foot or so to get a look at the actual steel of the blade. She flipped it over with an elegant twist of her wrist, the admiration apparent on her face. She rested the the weight of blade, still in the scabbard against her left palm as she ran her right hand over the length of the handle. “Ceartas,” she smiled softly, slid the sword back into the sheath and with all the reverence it deserved she placed it back on the table. “Et sverd som er verdt en slik mann (A sword worthy of such a man.)” She turned bright red momentarily. Thank the gods she said it in Norwegian…he didn’t understand.

She picked up the mug, her hand actually trembling some as a particularly sharp pain stabbed across her features, and swallowing her pride, or nerves, no, nope she would NOT let this man make her nervous. “I could use some water....and…” a hiss and a forced breath, “more of the liniment.” And then her eyes went WIDE as he let go of her own blade...........dear gods.......................
Ragna Edman, No…no…nonononono

Seamus’ eyes fell on the runes etched into the cross piece just as Ragna’s eyes widened. He looked… and looked again. He looked plainly at the runes and then at Ragna. Fate. Willed by powers greater than mine. a man had once said when faced with his destiny. Destiny… that was what he had been feeling. He looked at her and blinked. “What do the rules mean? Right here?” he asked and pointed to them. He knew full well what they said… but he wanted to know where she sat on what had just transpired… whether she would see it as fate… or a curse.

Ragna blinked unsure which side of the handle he was pointing, the runes not coming into focus at all. “Her name: Drengskapr or honor.” She rubbed at her temples wincing, and hissing as the storm began to rage harder, crashing thunder rattled the windows. She considered lying about the other side, he wouldn’t know and then despite the closed curtains lighting cracked and exploded right above the house, as if reading her mind, “Umm....” she licked dry lips, hesitated and the thunder crashed hard into the house. Right Ragna, don’t anger the gods right now, “…’for my other half.’”

When she asked for water and more medicine, Seamus moved… and quickly, especially for a man his size. He grabbed her mug and filled it, then grabbed the medicine. “Hold still… here.” and he started to prepare to repeat the previous application.

Seamus McKenzie, Well Now This Isnt How I saw The Day Going

She was curled in a ball again, lines of pain etched across her face as the storm began to rage. She held still allowing him to apply the tincture again. The thunder rumbled settling things to rattling on the walls and rafters. She grit her teeth silently, and though it might seem childish she covered her ears against the noise, desperate for some relief.

Ragna Edman, I didn’t mean to make them mad!