Voiceover transcript:

Hey, I wanted to provide a little character, profile about Skadi. This is a persona. It's a kind of a user experience or UX approach in order to define what kind of people are going to be using your software. And so I thought it would be fun to make one for Skadi, nicknamed Dee.

She is a pilgrim for Snøgud and she's 20 years old. She's Andri's lover. And her education... she is educated in the village. There's various teachers in the village of Eru, but she's done most of her education - I think that she would consider education - has been her training with Bylur and ah, that's mindfulness training, just basically meditation. Her background, due to the belief of her people, the Edur, that those with the palest skin are most desired by Snøgud, the god who rules the winter moons, Skadi, an albino, has been destined to make the pilgrimage to Nadgang Mountain to beseech Snøgud to spare their village from a cruel winter. She is the daughter of Freya and an unknown giant to the west of Eru And well, I should have said in the beginning, there is some spoilers in here for the first let's see, part one, perhaps part one you don't know that she is the daughter of a giant to the west. But she is, she's half giant. And, as with Norse mythology, that doesn't actually mean - we'll get into this, but just a little tidbit - doesn't actually mean that you are of giant proportions. The giants are able to change their size and some of them can shape shift and stuff. They're really loose with the abilities. It's like, you know, Loki could just sort of become anything. And when he has kids, they're always fucked up. It's like, yeah, Sleipnir has like seven legs or something. I think eight legs. and he has like another one. I forget. It's probably like a two headed snake or something. I forget. Anyway, yes, so, to be totally honest, I haven't decided yet how closely it is going to mirror that aspect of Norse mythology. But, it's probably going to be very similar. I'm just not sure about the with respect to the magical elements, if things are going to be as hand wavy, no offense, Norse mythology, but it is sort of like anything goes. So, yeah, we'll just see how things unfold. all right. Her goals. To be mindful like Bylur. She admires Bylur a lot. And he's very in the moment. He's present and, wise figure. And she would like to be like him. Although, as you can see, her mindfulness - I think it's a little silly to have a mindfulness score like this, but - I would say it's like a talent of hers. But it's not fully formed. She's still working on it. her other goals are to meet Snøgud and get some explanation for the tradition of pilgrimages she wants, to make... If she has to make a sacrifice, she would want it to be a meaningful one and to meet her real father. She doesn't know yet that that is a goal, but, yeah, once she finds out that her dad is not her dad, then that is going to be one of her goals. Spoiler! And to belong. Don't we all? Frustrations. She feels powerless over her fate. She's frustrated with traditions and superstitions of the Edor. She's frustrated with the way her village treats her. she's also annoyed with Lumi's obsession with Andri and her own limitations, especially her day blindness. And, ah, included in those limitations. She knows that she's not the most mindful, but she's working on it. And her archery. She's pretty good, but she gets frustrated with herself and I'd say that's one of her biggest flaws. Anyway, hope you liked this. Let me know. And I'm definitely going to make more whether or not you like them, because I like them. And, yeah, thanks for listening. Love you. Bye.

Continued from Snøgud: Chapter 2

Lumi had been looking forward to this day, albeit guiltily, ever since that evening by the stream, nine summers ago. Watching Andri and Skadi laughing and splashing each other in the light of the setting sun, a little pebble of jealousy had wriggled into her heart, growing ever since. Each adoring look meant for Skadi and not for her, every walk in the forest with their hands intertwined coated its surface with another layer of wretched sediment. Now, her heart was cratered by it.

She had felt the stone pressing against her chest that morning as she watched the two of them scampering back from the eastern hill with their arms around each other, Skadi with her eyes closed against the light and Andri guiding her. So fucking adorable. Lumi puffed her cheeks in frustration. Not long now, she thought. Soon, hers would be the hand clasped in his, she the object of his affection.

Although the Pilgrimage to Snøgod was considered an honor to be celebrated, the revelry always felt forced. No one expected to see the departing Pilgrim again, although efforts were made by most to pretend otherwise. Given these nuances, it was important that she strike the right tone. She should look attractive, but not excessively so. She must be sure not to act overly celebratory, although the closer the sun drew to the horizon the giddier she felt. She hoped the martingales she had embroidered on her tunic were not gauche - the strength and perseverance of the birds known to remain in the North despite the harsh winter were proper sentiments for the Ceremony of Departure. But martingales also symbolized love.

Another wave of giddiness washed over her, making her bounce in her chair. She was so close to the moment when she would no longer have to compete with that stupid blind freak. She could barely contain her excitement, but she would need to figure out a way to do so in order to find the right balance of demure compassion and solicitous care when she comforted Andri once Skadi left. She could almost feel the warm muscle of his shoulder beneath her hand. Carefully, she draped the embroidered tunic over the back of her chair, watching the martingales’ blue thread shimmer in the light. She flopped back on the bed, energy running in riotous zigzags over her body.

Winking in the light streaming through the window, the martingales appeared to be dancing with each other. Like her and Andri soon would. The thought made her smile. She opened her mouth and dragged her thumb across her tongue, then slid the wet digit over her nipple, feeling it harden at her touch. She squeezed the soft flesh and rolled the nub. With her other hand she trailed her fingers down her torso to the fork of her legs, finding herself already slick with arousal. She imagined Andri lying next to her, reaching down to curl his fingers inside her sex. She shivered at the thought and slid two digits inside herself, feeling her rippled bands of muscle tighten.

She gave her breast another squeeze, then moved her hand lower so that she could rub her sensitive nub while she continued penetrating herself. She imagined Andri’s long brown fingers caressing her from the inside and his lips meeting hers. She could almost taste him. Soon, she repeated to herself, squirming in her bed. Her fingers pumped faster - a delirious orchestra of one. She rubbed herself and writhed into her hands, her climax building like magma beneath bedrock. She imagined Andri’s lips against her ear.

“She was just a distraction. You’re the one I want.”

His warm breath brushed her cheek. Waves of pleasure ran over her body like sunlight breaking through fast-moving clouds.

“You’re the one I want.”

“Your flint?” Skadi’s mother asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Yes, mother.”

“And the firefruit?”

“Yes.”

“Your mittens?”

“Yes, mother.”

“And the snares,” she said, her voice made tinny by the forced levity of her tone. Skadi took her hand, feeling a slight tremor. Or perhaps that was her own. She had spent all day carefully assembling the fortress around her heart but, alone with her mother, she could feel all the chinks between those stones. All the weaknesses.

“I won’t starve, mama,” she murmured.

Freya blew out a breath and shook her head as if to clear it.

“Of course you won’t. Because you’ll have your snares. And your arrows. You’ll be able to take down just about anything now, with all the practicing you’ve been doing.” She hefted the quiver of arrows again and set them on the bed next to Skadi’s pack. “And you won’t freeze to death, either,” she added, as though reciting a lesson. Her hands were in constant motion, feeling for the pocket holding the firefruit and flint, then fidgeting to the flap of the pack to check for each item again.

“It’s okay, mama,” Skadi said, capturing her mother’s hands fluttering like two small birds. “It’ll be okay.”

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Continued from Snøgud: Chapter 1

The old man’s hands were trembling as they held the mug of tea but his face was perfectly serene. A fool might mistake his expression for one of ignorance, but Odr was no fool. At least, not anymore. As a young man, Odr had believed that the Elder’s simple smile belied nothing at all and that Bylur’s legendary skill at Evne, a game of strategy played on a checkered board, was greatly exaggerated. He would never forget the amused way the Elder had nudged his pieces to victory with hardly any hesitation. Odr hadn’t even come close. To this day, Evne challenges came to the Elder regularly, and he humored every one. At ninety-six years old, he remained undefeated.

Now, the bright eyes with which he regarded Odr were as sharp as they had been the day Odr had so confidently sat before him, the black and white checkered board stretched between them and a hundred villagers looking on. Besides his wrinkled skin and stooped shoulders, the only meaningful indicator of Bylur’s advanced age was his constant trembling. Odr knew what such palsies meant.

The death of an Elder was always a somber affair, but Bylur was especially beloved, and would be mourned accordingly. Few others were able to remain as collected as he, regardless of the circumstance. Some of his fellow Elders claimed that everyone loved him because, being a mute, he could never say the wrong thing. But it was more than that. His presence had a tranquility to which no one was impervious. He showed as much patience to the children tugging on his beard as to grouchy Gleb who complained often of his vegetables being stolen, although most of the Edur suspected the real thief was forgetfulness.

“Skadi has been sitting, Ears-Open, like you taught her,” said Freya to the old man.

He seemed pleased by this, smiling pleasantly and nodding.

“Sometimes she’ll sit for hours, just listening to the wind and the trees.”

Odr marveled at Freya’s ability to communicate so easily with the mute. He struggled to think of what to say when he found himself in the Elder’s presence, but Freya had no trouble. They could converse at length.

Bylur nodded and looked out the window with raised eyebrows.

“I doubt she’s practicing now,” Freya answered, “but perhaps.”

Her gaze joined Bylur’s, watching an ice-encrusted tree sway in the breeze.

“She’s been different these last few weeks,” Freya continued, more softly. “I can’t read her like I used to. She’s become a stranger.”

Her breath hitched on the last sentence and her chin quivered ever so slightly. Odr knew how hard this was for her. How much she had tried to prepare herself, to lay the stones around her heart without blocking everyone out - how delicate the balance between strength and vulnerability. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She gave him a small smile and squeezed back.

With threads of gray in her dark hair and a collection of fine lines at the corners of her eyes, Odr recognized her beauty as no less striking than when they were young and first falling in love. She wore her hair in the same long braid, smiled in that same light, dancing way. Although, in recent months, there was a sadness to the smile that touched her lips.

“You’re the only person who might know what she’s going through,” Freya murmured. Bylur’s face grew serious. With a gnarled shaking hand, he touched his forehead, then his sternum in an ancient gesture of faith. Use your senses, it said, and trust your heart. It was a gesture Odr hadn’t used himself since the Passage of Giants. Freya wore the same expression now as she had then - defiant, anguished, hopeful. Her lips pressed into a thin determined smile and she nodded. Her eyes flashed to Odr’s with a look that told him she was also remembering that night.

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Skadi blew the air out of her cheeks in one long, slow breath, keeping her eyes trained on the notch she’d carved in the fir tree a hundred yards away. The line of the bowstring cut into her cheek and her eyes began to water. Her hands were almost numb with cold. A new day was beginning, fingers of light spreading over the ridge to the East. The wan morning light was as bright as the peak of day, forcing her pale eyes into a squint. She loosed the arrow, hand jerking too far to the right, arrow whizzing past the tree and into the forest. Skadi cursed and rubbed her eyes.

She had trouble focusing long enough to become a truly skilled archer, and depending on the light sometimes she couldn’t even see the target. Why she strove, day after day, to perfect a skill that she was clearly never meant to master was a mystery to everyone, herself included. Her mother seemed proud of this dedication to an unattainable goal, although Skadi didn’t understand why, and was often infuriated by it.

‘I was born to be a fucking sacrifice! Why care about me at all?’ Skadi had demanded of her one day, years ago. Her mother had smiled sadly, and said simply,

‘Because I love you.’

An answerless answer, and one Skadi wanted to hurl aside, to shatter and deny, but she could not. She had never doubted her mother’s love for her, a love that made her hate herself more, as though it had been her choice to be born with the freakishly white skin and hair and the pale eyes that marked her a “true” Pilgrim of Snøgud. As though it were her choice to take away her mother’s only child.

She nocked another arrow and loosed it with barely a thought. It flew true, striking the mark in the tree almost on center. She always shot better when she didn’t overthink it.

‘Wow, you’re really good,’ Andri had said when they were little, watching her practice. She had shaken her head in response.

‘I missed the target,’ she said flatly.

‘Yeah, but you got close!’ he replied, encouragingly. She threw her bow to the ground in frustration, and kicked it.

‘This is stupid. I can barely see anything.’

‘But you can see at night! Even on a new moon. How cool is that!’

Andri’s positivity was infectious, and Skadi found herself smiling in spite of herself. In the intervening years, he had become her closest friend. He never seemed bothered by her condition, or treated her as a leper the way some of the villagers did or, worse, as a holy icon.

Skadi jogged to retrieve her arrow. More light was creeping into the valley of Edur, making her squint. Tonight was the Full Wolf Moon, the Third Winter Moon. Her last day of freedom. Most likely one of the last days I’ll spend among the living, she reflected bitterly, jogging back to the edge of the village.

She was right.

Freya paced around her home, looked down at her hands, and realized she was wringing them. With an effort, she dropped them to her sides and took a deep breath. The dreaded day had arrived. She had wondered how it would feel for the last twenty years, ever since she’d first held the tiny helpless form of her infant daughter against her chest, feeling her life force flow into her child as those pale otherworldly eyes stared into hers.

Everything she had thought she’d learned over the last twenty years collapsed into one single irrevocable truth: no matter how long you have to plan, nothing prepares you for saying goodbye to your child.

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