The Right Thing
Jan. 6th, 2019 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
volurofthehearthA fork bent into another shape.
A sewing needle.
A knitting needle.
A stick splintered and poorly reformed.
A pencil.
A hair pin.
None of them work.
In between soothing fevers and guiding people to beds or chairs. While she’s not measuring out doses, or supporting those too weak to sit up as they cough. When she has a moment to herself to go somewhere quiet and try to steady the shaking of her hands, she looks through drawers, cupboards and boxes. If she could just find the right thing…
She sits at her desk, and helps with the sick. Every person who comes to her is more desperate than the last. The woman sobbing because her baby is ill. The man staying strong having been robbed of everything he owns. Their emotions crash over her, their fears and worries become hers. When she lays down at night she thinks about them. Wonders if the child is feeling any better, or if the man found his father’s watch. All their troubles and the only thing she can offer them is a smile and some warm words.
She’s a völva.
And she can’t use her mother’s magic to help them.
Maybe that's best, she thinks when she sees a shrouded figure wheeled past. So that she isn't tempted to try and alter the fate of those now dead. Perhaps it's for the best.
Perhaps.
Or perhaps she could have fixed all of this.
Nobody who speaks with her knows that. They see a kind young woman doing her best. She smiles wider, brighter, better... so they don't see the guilt. So they don't realise... she could have saved them. She could still save them. If she just found the right thing...
A sewing needle.
A knitting needle.
A stick splintered and poorly reformed.
A pencil.
A hair pin.
None of them work.
In between soothing fevers and guiding people to beds or chairs. While she’s not measuring out doses, or supporting those too weak to sit up as they cough. When she has a moment to herself to go somewhere quiet and try to steady the shaking of her hands, she looks through drawers, cupboards and boxes. If she could just find the right thing…
She sits at her desk, and helps with the sick. Every person who comes to her is more desperate than the last. The woman sobbing because her baby is ill. The man staying strong having been robbed of everything he owns. Their emotions crash over her, their fears and worries become hers. When she lays down at night she thinks about them. Wonders if the child is feeling any better, or if the man found his father’s watch. All their troubles and the only thing she can offer them is a smile and some warm words.
She’s a völva.
And she can’t use her mother’s magic to help them.
Maybe that's best, she thinks when she sees a shrouded figure wheeled past. So that she isn't tempted to try and alter the fate of those now dead. Perhaps it's for the best.
Perhaps.
Or perhaps she could have fixed all of this.
Nobody who speaks with her knows that. They see a kind young woman doing her best. She smiles wider, brighter, better... so they don't see the guilt. So they don't realise... she could have saved them. She could still save them. If she just found the right thing...
