odin

[Odin Hellstrom]

prompt list incominnnnnnng at some point

[Odin Hellstrom]

Moving in with Shaun, and then deciding to stay there on a more permanent basis, was one of the better decisions Odin had made in his adult life, starting with leaving his parents for New York so that he could run into Shaun again, and deciding to join the military.  It seemed odd that he'd consider that such a good choice now, considering his disability stemming from his service, but it also meant that he'd met some of the best people he'd ever known, and he wouldn't trade it.  The loss of his vision had been devastating, and he wouldn't deny that he'd been depressed and miserable afterwards, but he'd learned to cope and all of the therapists he'd talked to after it had happened had all encouraged him to tell people and himself that he didn't miss it.  It was a lie, because he missed being able to see the sunset and his friends' faces, all of the stupid little things that people took for granted like ugly christmas cookies and garish pajama pants, but he was coping well and he had support and friends where he was. 

Honestly, most of the time it was impossible to tell that he was even bothered at all by his own blindness.  He moved around confidently between his telekinesis, familiarity with the places he tended to spend time in, his cane and a hand on a friend's arm or shoulder, and he was the absolute worst when it came to making blind jokes in random conversation.  He was open about it and made it seem like it wasn't a taboo topic, and it had made for a much more comfortable environment overall.  He didn't have to be happy that he'd been blinded, but considering his life was finding a new normal, including interviewing with Shaun's security for a job, he could hardly complain. 

Still, there were some things that he simply couldn't do, or just couldn't do well, and most of them seemed to be the little things that people did for fun.  Video games were useless and mostly just noise to him unless someone wanted to narrate what was happening, and TV was the same problem.  Wren could sit with him and watch shows and movies, narrating the action that he couldn't see with the appropriate level of gravity or humor, and Dawn had joined them with her own commentary a few times, but Wren was highly adaptable, especially when it came to what to do for fun.

"And you've never done this before?" he asked, not for the first time as she sat on the couch next to him with her laptop in front of her on the coffee table with a video going, explaining what they were supposed to be doing.  For all of the same reasons as TV, it was useless to him. 

"Nope!  I'm just barely less in the dark than you are, and only on a technicality," she declared, turning her head enough that her hair brushed his arm and he could hear the smile in her voice.  He'd been told that her hair was vibrant red, like fire, but he couldn't see the color and still felt the warmth of who she was, though she was currently pausing, playing and rewinding something on youtube that may or may not have been helpful. 

"Okay, well what's the lady in the video telling you to do, because all I'm hearing is put needles in loops," he said, and she sighed dramatically, focusing on the yarn and needles in her lap. 

"I think I've got it?  Give me a sec."  There was movement, and then a pause as she examined what she'd done, made an affirmative sound and tried something else.  As though that settled it, she set down her needles, all business.  "Okay, yeah, I've got it, so this is what you're going to do."

Shaun walked through a half hour later to find both of them on the couch, knitting needles and yarn in hand while they half-listened to a true crime podcast.  Odin's square was further along than Wren's was, but he'd be the first person to point out that the reason for that was because she was stopping hers constantly to fix what he was doing.  He'd somehow managed to wrap the wrong part of his working yarn around the needles, and Wren was laughing so hard trying to untangle it that they didn't actually hear Shaun come in, though he stopped to watch them for a moment.

"So, uh, how's it going?"

"The husband totally did it," Wren told him without missing a beat, proving that she was perhaps listening more closely to the podcast than Odin was while he was concentrating.

"And I'm pretty sure this is some ancient ritual magic I'm failing to weave up properly," he added, holding his hands out with a loose grip so that Wren could move things around and then go back to the awkward cross of arms and hand holding necessary to show him how to do it by feel.  It helped that he kept feeling her knitting with his mind and then checking his own to see if it felt right, and he was building a picture of what it was supposed to look like and how she was moving when she did hers.  It wasn't as good as watching someone visually, but it was better than not at all.

"Yeah, well, don't forget that I asked for an enchanted scarf.  In dark green," Shaun said, sipping at his coffee as he watched.  Obviously, he knew they weren't dating and he understood the concept of being such good friends, but even he looked at them sometimes and wondered how they weren't dating. 

"Wait, this is dark green, right?" Odin asked, just as Wren got him on the right track again.  With guidance, he got a stitch done without issue and started in on another.

"Yes, it's dark green.  Everyone suggested lighter colors to start because they're easier to see, but obviously that's not an issue for you.  I should have gotten you a light color for my eyes, though," she pointed out, though she pretended she was more put out by it than she was.  A few more stitches with no incident, and she picked her own back up. 

"Okay, I think you're right, how could it be anyone but the husband?" Odin asked as the podcast went on, and Shaun snorted.

"It's usually the husband," he said, headed to the kitchen for a refill.  He might join them to listen for awhile, since the story sounded good, but he'd already told Wren that there was no way she was getting him to try knitting with them.  He already struggled with fat fingers when texting, and he wasn't about to put them to the test with yarn.  He returned with his mug freshly filled and settled in on the loveseat nearby, watching the slow yarn process with interest, though not enough to ask too many questions.

Surprisingly, it was not the husband.