And nobody seems to recognize me in the crowd [Open]

Brynja was feeling so restless today, she just had to get away from the farm, away from her twin sister's cheerful voice and easy smile. She stalked off with barely a muttered excuse, not bothering to hide her annoyance. She loved Redra more than anyone else in the world, but that didn't mean it was easy to live with someone so happy all the time. Sometimes, she found it downright exhausting. But despite her annoyance with her sister's naivete, Brynja never lost her temper, never spilled her darkness into the pure, innocent light Redra seemed to radiate. Brynja knew she had been born to heal the wounded and to protect her little sister from the darkness, and those were the only two things she felt good at most times. And even so, sometimes when she was covered in blood to her elbows and reeking of it, she never wanted to see another wounded man again. And there were other times, far more shameful, when all she wanted was to snap at Redra, to tell her the world wasn't all sunshine, that most times it was chaos and darkness and pain. But she never did. She never walked away from a wounded man, and she never hurt her sister.

Sometimes, though, she just needed an escape, just needed to get away from the unbearable darkness, the chaotic dreams that woke her screaming, and how exhausted they left her the next day. Last night she'd had one of her nightmares again. She'd been having them often lately, often enough that there were dark circles under her brown eyes and her skin was paler than usual. She'd treated a wounded man not too long ago, and sometimes that made the dreams worse. She started off on the short walk to town, staring the guards in the face as she walked through the gate. She'd lived in Uddevalla since birth, no one troubled her.

She drew the hood of her blue cloak up, using the shadows it cast to hide the purple under her eyes and the pallor of her skin. Most people in Uddevalla tended to avoid her anyway, had heard of the dreams she had and didn't want to draw her darkness onto themselves. Plus, she wasn't the easiest to get along with. Sometimes she wondered if her lack of many friends was more due to her own acid tongue than the darkness of the gods, because these people still brought their wounded to her, still brought their sick to Redra, and together the two of them had even delivered a few babies. They respected her even as most of them kept their distance. Even in town, most people gave her a wide berth, although they nodded or smiled tentatively in her direction. She did her best to smile back.

She glanced to her side, to the empty building where one of her few friends, Iliana, had sold her jewelry before moving to Kattegat. But then she saw movement through the small window, a flash of familiar red hair. Could she be home for a visit? Brynja pushed open the door, waiting silently for Iliana to realize she wasn't alone. Brynja could be as silent as a shadow when she chose. "You startled me," Iliana accused, turning around, and a broad grin broke out over Brynja's tired face as she pushed her hood back. "I startle most people, actually." She took off her cloak, hanging it on the hook by the door. "Back from Kattegat so soon, Iliana?"

Brynja chuckles darkly when Iliana laughs at her first comment, a slightly bitter acknowledgement that her amusement at her own situation was rather on the twisted side. Brynja liked her life just fine, liked that most people left her alone. Attachments led to pain, she'd learned that from her father, constantly grieving for the woman he'd loved. Despite that, Brynja was willing to let down her guard for a very few people whom she was fiercely loyal to, and one of them stood before her now. Iliana understood her pessimism, her darkness, and didn't shy from it like most did. In fact, she shared a similar nature. It made them fast friends, and Brynja had been a little sad by her friend's decision to leave; though she wouldn't admit it nor stand in the way of Iliana making a better life for herself. But already in the small jewelry shop, her friend unexpectedly back in town, the restlessness that drove Brynja to leave her farm was ebbing.

"I'm glad things are going well, but it sounds like a dull place to me. At least you can charge more though, they probably appreciate pretty things more than we do here in this gloomy place." And that was why Brynja would never leave; the gloom and darkness of Uddevalla, the bloodthirsty ways of the people here, suited her just fine. The gods granted her this darkness, this skill at healing the wounded, and placed her in a kingdom she was oddly similar to. Redra was the one misplaced, although maybe Uddevalla needed her brightness to keep from becoming completely unbearable to those that lived there and those that chose to visit. Visitors were few and far between though, and for good reason. The people of Uddevalla keep to themselves. Yes, this gloomy kingdom of rough loners suited Brynja just fine.

She rolls her dark brown eyes at the litany of questions, pretending to be annoyed. "Everything is the same as it's always been. We got a good harvest this year, the gods were generous. And Redra is fine, thankful for the bounty and full of joy, as always." She smirks at her friend. "She misses you--although I'm not sure why." And that, that is why Brynja doesn't have many friends, for remarks like that one. But she knows Iliana won't take it seriously, and will make a similar comment soon enough. "I'm the same as always, gathering my herbs and dreaming my dreams, waiting for another man to need my tending. It breaks up the boredom, at least." Her last comment is highly sarcastic. Brynja loves her mostly-quiet life, the peaceful little farm she shares with her sister, and her work as a healer. In the light of day, even the dreams aren't so bad. And she knows Iliana knows this,knows how grateful Brynja is to the gods for the life she leads.

Brynja perches herself on the stool Iliana slides toward her, wrinkling her nose in feigned distaste at all the light from the candles. She holds one pale hand in front of her dark eyes, as if the light hurts her. "You've been in Kattegat for a month and already you're obsessed with candles. What's the matter, can't you see through the gloom anymore?" She drops her hand into her lap with a sardonic little smirk. She only laughs when Iliana tells her that Kattegat is less.... And then makes a sweeping gesture to encompass everything Uddevalla was so known for. Gloomy. Bloodthirsty. Violent. Hard. Because they were, the people of Uddevalla tended to be harsh and strong, pragmatic and practical. There was no room for dreamers here, unless it was the dreaming Brynja did--waking screaming from gods-sent nightmares, the price of her healing skill.

She manages to look offended when Iliana states that Kattegat is less obsessed with weapons. "Sounds like a place that would put me out of a job," she notes. She only laughs at Iliana's shocked gasp, then nods, still smiling, when she says Redra is too good for both of them. "She is. Luckily for us, no one's told her yet. I think they're afraid I'd send spirits after them." That wasn't a skill she possessed, but people in Uddevalla were religious enough not to test someone favored by the gods. Although to be honest, Brynja isn't sure if she's favored or cursed by them, and probably will never know.

She reaches over to take the bundle from Iliana, carefully peeling back the cloth. She makes a little "aahh" of delight when she sees the thick wrist cuff, and slides it happily onto her arm. She admires it for a moment, smiling, before turning her dark eyes back to Iliana. "Thank you, it's beautiful!" She traces a finger over it quickly, then laughs as Iliana continues speaking. "I don't know if Kattegat can handle both of us," she laughs. "But you do know how much I like judging people."

Brynja only nods when Iliana offers to blow out the candles, her dark eyes wide and serious. "The light hurts my eyes. I don't know how Redra copes with her bright, happy dreams all the time. It sounds miserable to me." She shudders at the horror of the idea. Brynja knows she was born to defend Redra. She was the elder twin for a reason, she was the one kissed by darkness so Redra could be surrounded by light. She dealt with wounded men, with blood and screaming and agony, while Redra dealt more with illness, with fever-dreams and chills, with death that sometimes came almost gently. Redra comforted herself in knowing that she eased their suffering, even if her patients drifted into death. In Brynja's dealings with it, there was little she could do to ease the pain if they were going to die quickly. Her drugs take a little time to work, and death can come so swiftly to a wounded man. Brynja knows she was born to shield her sister from that darkness. It isn't that Redra's never seen it, because she's helped Brynja with the wounded before, but she just didn't experience it as often.

She quirks an eyebrow at Iliana's remark about idiots who play with swords. "Those idiots are my favorite people--their stupidity puts food in my belly." She grins, stretching her hands out before her. They're mostly clean, no dried blood under her fingernails, only the soil from the garden she and Redra tended. She picks at the dirt idly, Brynja hates when her hands are dirty. She looks up at Iliana when she continues, talking about the Ragnarssons and the Harvest Feast. Brynja had heard about the feast, of course, Queen Aslaug had invited everyone. Redra had wanted to go, but of course Brynja had no interest in such things. She preferred to stay home, in case someone should need those accursed, healing hands of hers. She'd told Redra she could go if she wanted, Iliana would probably be pleased to have her stay with her. She decided she didn't want to go without her sister, and despite Redra's pleading, Brynja refused to change her mind. She felt only a bit guilty about it.

"Famous people still bleed and scream when they're wounded." Her voice was flat, monotone. Brynja cared little for rank or fame, she'd tended enough wounded men to know they mostly behaved the same when they were in pain. Her voice lightens and she nods. "She was in the garden when I left, we can go there if you want. But be warned: she's particularly cheerful today." Brynja rolls her eyes, but only a little. She loves her sister's sunny nature, even if she doesn't understand it.

Brynja only quirks her eyebrows as Iliana blows out the candles, ducking her head to hide her laughter. She'd been half-joking, but even so she was a little relieved the candles were out. Sometimes her dreams gave her headaches that pounded away behind her eyes, and made even the small flames of candles an annoyance. She had one such headache today, although her walk here had helped to ease it. Fresh air always helped. Brynja looks back up at her friend as she speaks, thinking for a moment, and then nods. "That's true, I suppose. You get used to them after a while, mostly." She shrugs, already knowing it was the price she paid for her healing hands. She simply couldn't have one without the other.

She laughs as Iliana wishes there would always be idiots to keep her fed. "I don't see that being a problem, especially not here." She bows her head in a mockery of a toast. "And may there always be enough rich folk to keep you fed.... And for you to judge silently." She grins. She rolls her eyes when Iliana said she expected the Ragnarssons to be taller. "Good luck finding anyone taller than you. There's frost-giant in you, I think." Brynja is short herself, standing a little more than half a foot shorter than Iliana. "Of course they're ordinary men. Some say they're favored by the gods, but they say the same thing about Redra and I. But," she shrugs, "aren't they supposed to be descended from Odin? That makes their ordinariness disappointing, I suppose." Brynja's suddenly in a strange, contemplative mood, the way she gets when she thinks about fate and the gods for too long.

Iliana gathering her things, bustling about the shop, pulls her back to reality. She stands, stretching her lower back. She grabs her cloak and fastens it around her shoulders. "Let's go then. She'll be happy to see you, we've missed you."