![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexiel_hamonaAutore: Alexiel Mihawk | alexiel_hamona
Titolo: Mægen's Well
Fandom: Star Wars , Rogue One
Personaggi: Cassian Andor, un-named white woman, unnamed three sisters of time.
Generi: fantasy, space-fantasy, mythological influences, adventure, romance, pew-pew
Warning: norse mythology in space!AU, mystic beings in space!AU, angst
Prompt: neve
Parole: 1036
Rating: sfw
Note: scritta per la prima settimana del Cow-T di maridichallenge. Le prime due strofe della profezia sono la rielaborazione e il rimaneggiamento di due strofe di una traduzione dell'Edda, che chiaramente non dice così, ma ehi, mi serviva. Non voglio dire nient'altro, perché tutto verrà spiegato nel prossimo capitolo, quindi per ora vi cuccate sta roba senza note e senza indicazioni, così com'è.
Cassian Andor was fighting a war he could not win.
He had been fighting it for all his life; war had moulded him, it had shaped him, transformed the boy he once had been into a man whose eyes were covered by a veil of guilt and memories of his own sins. He knew victory was an illusion, the utopic dream of a cynic who still wanted to believe there was hope for the universe. Except the universe had chosen to abandon the fight, to abandon him. The universe was going ahead and there was no place in it for old idealists and dreamers of freedom.
Cassian was both.
Which explained why his last hope resided in myths and old stories of events long gone, lost in time, forgotten by most. Not by him, though. He had heard legends, old tales of hope and light, singing the existence of a planet, lost in the furthest extremity of the universe, on the border of an ancient galaxy, a planet covered in ice and mist whose inhabitants were gifted. Blessed.
Cassian wasn’t that kind of leader that runs away when the situation gets complicated, impossible, he never wanted to abandon his post or his team, but his enemies were getting stronger while his men were getting decimated.
It was Chirrut the one who insisted the most:
“You must leave and you must cross the skies of a thousand planets, for that is the fate that awaits you, for that is the journey you are embarking on and this is your destiny. Bring us hope, Captain, for you are the only one who can.”
He was searching for a planet named Vallt.
There was no trace of it in any star map or galactic map, it wasn’t mentioned in any archive nor in the Memory of the Universe, the great historical library on Coruscant. Cassian could have given up then, he could have come back, admitting there was no such thing as a forgotten planet, there were no mystic beings, no magic, no nothing.
But he was stubborn and tired of losing, so he went on. Planet after planet, empty skies and deserted lands, he kept going, asking strangers about an iced planet named Vallt. His spaceship got shot, he got dirty, some people were kind to him, others weren’t; he had to kill, at times, and he had to be kind and understanding, but still there was no trace of what he was looking for.
Until one day, finally, he reached a sector of an ancient Galaxy he had never heard about and, on a planet called Harrandarr, he finally found something.
“Haven’t heard that name before” said the old man.
He was sitting on the street, his clothes were wetted by the rain that kept falling from the sky: there was no sun on Harrandarr, but no ice either. Cassian sheltered his eyes with the back of his hand, he was so tired and demotivated: he had been travelling for months now, and there he was, at the extreme border of the universe with nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Neva’ heard of a Vallt before, strange name for a planet,” kept saying the old man, “but I know a Wyrd, a cuplah of systems over. Nasty place, couvered in ice, nasty inhabitants. Most forceful people, not in a strength way of talking”.
“Wyrd?” he asked.
“Aye, you deaf yung man? Cuplah of systems, opposite to the sun, no one likes to travel that way”.
“Thanks, I guess”.
It wasn’t Vallt, the name was different, but what did he have to lose? He could as well keep going.
One more planet, he told himself, just one more.
He had no time to waste on a useless research. The rebellion, his team… they both needed him, they needed him more than they needed hope. At least that’s what he was thinking.
The snow covered the land like a mantle.
Everything was white: the trees, the mountains, the valleys, the small houses of the ancient village, even the iced surface of the lake was covered by a thick shroud of snow. The castle, though, was clean and bright, lighten by the gentle rays of the distant sun; it was made of stone and wood and flowers. It was as ancient as the planet was, but time hadn’t touched it and it looked as an unknown, unspoken force was running through it, through every stone, every stick, every petal.
The white woman stood still on top of the embattled wall, her stare was lost in the distance, looking over the forest and the valley and the village, looking further than a human eye would have been able to see.
“Any moment now,” she whispered slowly, “he’s a-coming”.
The voices of the sisters of time echoes in the courtyard, they were singing an old prophecy, they had been singing it for a very long time, waiting, hoping.
The spaceship fell from the sky and landed on the empty, frozen ground. The villagers said nothing, staring at it with quiet acceptance. Cassian Andor was the first visitor they have had in many, many years, they just hoped he was also an awaited one.
Titolo: Mægen's Well
Fandom: Star Wars , Rogue One
Personaggi: Cassian Andor, un-named white woman, unnamed three sisters of time.
Generi: fantasy, space-fantasy, mythological influences, adventure, romance, pew-pew
Warning: norse mythology in space!AU, mystic beings in space!AU, angst
Prompt: neve
Parole: 1036
Rating: sfw
Note: scritta per la prima settimana del Cow-T di maridichallenge. Le prime due strofe della profezia sono la rielaborazione e il rimaneggiamento di due strofe di una traduzione dell'Edda, che chiaramente non dice così, ma ehi, mi serviva. Non voglio dire nient'altro, perché tutto verrà spiegato nel prossimo capitolo, quindi per ora vi cuccate sta roba senza note e senza indicazioni, così com'è.
Prologue: a search through space.
Cassian Andor was fighting a war he could not win.
He had been fighting it for all his life; war had moulded him, it had shaped him, transformed the boy he once had been into a man whose eyes were covered by a veil of guilt and memories of his own sins. He knew victory was an illusion, the utopic dream of a cynic who still wanted to believe there was hope for the universe. Except the universe had chosen to abandon the fight, to abandon him. The universe was going ahead and there was no place in it for old idealists and dreamers of freedom.
Cassian was both.
Which explained why his last hope resided in myths and old stories of events long gone, lost in time, forgotten by most. Not by him, though. He had heard legends, old tales of hope and light, singing the existence of a planet, lost in the furthest extremity of the universe, on the border of an ancient galaxy, a planet covered in ice and mist whose inhabitants were gifted. Blessed.
Cassian wasn’t that kind of leader that runs away when the situation gets complicated, impossible, he never wanted to abandon his post or his team, but his enemies were getting stronger while his men were getting decimated.
It was Chirrut the one who insisted the most:
“You must leave and you must cross the skies of a thousand planets, for that is the fate that awaits you, for that is the journey you are embarking on and this is your destiny. Bring us hope, Captain, for you are the only one who can.”
“Oh.”
“Someone’s coming.”
“Someone has already come.”
“When?”
“Confused. Blurred. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year.”
“Hasn’t this already happened?”
“Did it?”
“Will it?”
“Someone’s coming.”
“Someone has already come.”
“When?”
“Confused. Blurred. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year.”
“Hasn’t this already happened?”
“Did it?”
“Will it?”
He was searching for a planet named Vallt.
There was no trace of it in any star map or galactic map, it wasn’t mentioned in any archive nor in the Memory of the Universe, the great historical library on Coruscant. Cassian could have given up then, he could have come back, admitting there was no such thing as a forgotten planet, there were no mystic beings, no magic, no nothing.
But he was stubborn and tired of losing, so he went on. Planet after planet, empty skies and deserted lands, he kept going, asking strangers about an iced planet named Vallt. His spaceship got shot, he got dirty, some people were kind to him, others weren’t; he had to kill, at times, and he had to be kind and understanding, but still there was no trace of what he was looking for.
Until one day, finally, he reached a sector of an ancient Galaxy he had never heard about and, on a planet called Harrandarr, he finally found something.
“Haven’t heard that name before” said the old man.
He was sitting on the street, his clothes were wetted by the rain that kept falling from the sky: there was no sun on Harrandarr, but no ice either. Cassian sheltered his eyes with the back of his hand, he was so tired and demotivated: he had been travelling for months now, and there he was, at the extreme border of the universe with nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Neva’ heard of a Vallt before, strange name for a planet,” kept saying the old man, “but I know a Wyrd, a cuplah of systems over. Nasty place, couvered in ice, nasty inhabitants. Most forceful people, not in a strength way of talking”.
“Wyrd?” he asked.
“Aye, you deaf yung man? Cuplah of systems, opposite to the sun, no one likes to travel that way”.
“Thanks, I guess”.
It wasn’t Vallt, the name was different, but what did he have to lose? He could as well keep going.
One more planet, he told himself, just one more.
He had no time to waste on a useless research. The rebellion, his team… they both needed him, they needed him more than they needed hope. At least that’s what he was thinking.
The snow covered the land like a mantle.
Everything was white: the trees, the mountains, the valleys, the small houses of the ancient village, even the iced surface of the lake was covered by a thick shroud of snow. The castle, though, was clean and bright, lighten by the gentle rays of the distant sun; it was made of stone and wood and flowers. It was as ancient as the planet was, but time hadn’t touched it and it looked as an unknown, unspoken force was running through it, through every stone, every stick, every petal.
The white woman stood still on top of the embattled wall, her stare was lost in the distance, looking over the forest and the valley and the village, looking further than a human eye would have been able to see.
“Any moment now,” she whispered slowly, “he’s a-coming”.
The voices of the sisters of time echoes in the courtyard, they were singing an old prophecy, they had been singing it for a very long time, waiting, hoping.
“There stands an ash called Yggdrasil,
A white old tree up on a hill,
From there come the dews that time foretell,
It stands evergreen above past’s Well.
From there come maidens, very wise,
Three from the lake that time defies.
One is called Urd, another Verdandi,
Skuld the third; they carve into the tree
The lives and destinies of all that will be.
A man will come above the well,
He’ll bring blood with him as winter foretell.
One will leave the ancient tree,
And no more her time will ever be.
Another one will sleep no more,
When time comes and the battle roar.
The last will witness from the ice,
When night will fall and the dark will rise.
The universe from afar call
For those who will dare to stand tall;
And as the victory tastes bittersweet,
The cycle will be once more complete.”
A white old tree up on a hill,
From there come the dews that time foretell,
It stands evergreen above past’s Well.
From there come maidens, very wise,
Three from the lake that time defies.
One is called Urd, another Verdandi,
Skuld the third; they carve into the tree
The lives and destinies of all that will be.
A man will come above the well,
He’ll bring blood with him as winter foretell.
One will leave the ancient tree,
And no more her time will ever be.
Another one will sleep no more,
When time comes and the battle roar.
The last will witness from the ice,
When night will fall and the dark will rise.
The universe from afar call
For those who will dare to stand tall;
And as the victory tastes bittersweet,
The cycle will be once more complete.”
The spaceship fell from the sky and landed on the empty, frozen ground. The villagers said nothing, staring at it with quiet acceptance. Cassian Andor was the first visitor they have had in many, many years, they just hoped he was also an awaited one.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 04/02/2017 10:00 pm (UTC)a) il tuo Cassian è sempre bellissimo - non importa in quale universo tu lo inserisca;
b) ho bisogno di saperne di più di questo universo e della vita di Cassian e che si incontrino e che affhnksnts;
c) io non sarei in grado di scrivere una profezia neanche in italiano e tu ci riesci persino in inglese e quindi boh, così, diventiamo amiche?