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Teja son of Tagila
11 February 2012 @ 12:31 am
That thing people do when the world ends...Collapse )

[[OOC: Warning for doom and gloom and faint mention of sexual things.]]
Teja son of Tagila
08 January 2012 @ 02:50 pm
Here's a link to a good summary of the edges I've been negotiating with Teja and his canon (and its historical implications, which are only getting re-evaluated very recently):

How to be a fan of problematic things
Teja son of Tagila
07 January 2012 @ 07:28 pm
As if to mark the 100th anniversary of its author's death, Teja's canon is now available in English via Project Gutenberg, in the good contemporary Wolffsohn translation.

Volume One

Volume Two

Volume Three

First link is in German, sorry -- but the point is, canon in English for anybody who can put up with 19th century historical novel, which admittedly is hardly anybody any more.
Teja son of Tagila
04 December 2011 @ 11:16 pm
Teja opens the door onto the snowy evening hills of Gotland, the sea calmly and regularly breathing in the background.

The last rays of the sun are paling being the hills on the far side where the path winds towards the next farm, and there is warm firelight in the still-open door of the stately farmhouse that is the home of Teja's friend -- 'stately' for 7th century Scandinavia, that is.

Figures are working around the baking shed.

"Honey-cakes!" Hilde squeals joyfully, charging down the hill.
Teja son of Tagila
24 July 2011 @ 11:42 pm
Twins will not always do everything together.

This time, when Teja quietly slips into the homestead of his people, all but Gotho are making ready to leave, even though it is evening, to ride over to the farm of one Agilulf and one Martialis Romanus -- Teja remembers them, oh indeed he does! -- for a feast, but worrying about one of the twins, who is crying without pause, as she is teething. The other one, little Myrtia, already has two teeth; Valeria only has one tiny tip breaking through, and is crying in pain, even though Liuta gave her soft wood to chew on, and has a tincture to rub on the gums.

Teja, who cannot go with them, as there will be many who would know him by sight, offers to watch the crying child so she will not mar the feast; in the end, Gotho leaves but little Hilde stays with him, as one must at least pretend to be watching the teething baby.

Teja sings to them. Hilde, who would much rather stay with the king than go to a boring grown-up feast, snuggles beside them on the bed-bench, and soon falls asleep to the long, repetitive ballad of battles and hero-names.

Little Valeria yowls out her discontent for a long while, throwing her chewing wood, turning and flailing, showing the dead king just how much strength there can be in the tiny body of an eight-months-old child that wishes for something, or wishes for something to stop.

Finally, she quietens down, from the singing and the gentle rocking that goes with it, and chews her piece of wood, looking up at Teja with large fascinated eyes, the hard little skull with the soft bit of fluff sinking against his cheek.

But he is not allowed to stop, as then, she would start up again.

It is many hours, well into the night, until the homesteaders return, and Teja is singing the many, many stanzas of what would turn into the Lay of Hildebrand.

While he sings, all the words flowing freely from his memory, he muses how very odd this is, considering who he was and who he is elsewhere: - how should those that followed him into death have taken him in earnest, how will those he must keep the peace among still feel awe of him, if they saw him like this, singing to a sweet, now-happy and smiling baby, softly rocking her in his arm. And he feels he must be smiling, gently, his grim heart soothed by the trusting little person on his lap.

All grimness would be lost at that sight.

When his friends return, he stands; he hands the baby back to Gotho, will hear nothing of apologies, and promises to come again another day.

He wanders back up the barrow-hill and through his tomb into Milliways, still pondering.-
Teja son of Tagila
20 May 2011 @ 08:25 pm
Teja is sitting by the door, turning the snake bracelet in his hands.

He is waiting for his friends to to turn up, so they may go visit his people together.
Teja son of Tagila
25 April 2011 @ 10:48 pm
Count had decided to stay in Milliways and chase demonic rabbits, so among the things Teja carries down the barrow-hill, there is no cat, this time. But there are many other things: his harp, some pots Demeter prepared, and a satchel full of clanging tools he had promised Wachis to bring.

It is a beautiful day this time, early afternoon in bright spring, with fruit trees in bloom and flowers open in the meadows. From the farm, little Hilde is racing towards them when she sees them, as she had been playing with the kittens in front of the longhouse' door.
Teja son of Tagila
16 March 2011 @ 09:31 pm
Teja is in the forge, gathering a few things he is meaning to take to Gotland and show to Aligern -- for Adalgoth had told him that he would come to see them, soon.

It would, of course, be cheating history -- but then, Teja would gladly give his people any reasonable help he may.

No fire-arms, of course.

And then, of course, in the end, all his aid might result in could just as well be the development of the famous Ulberht swords that Teja has read about...
Teja son of Tagila
25 February 2011 @ 10:26 pm
It is very early morning.

By the fireplace, Teja is playing his harp, making his way through several songs that please him, from the future.

The remains of his breakfast are on a table at his side -- some bread, a bowl that contained some last spoonfuls of moretum, and a few small pieces of cured meat, which Count the cat is eyeing.

Very carefully.
Teja son of Tagila
11 February 2011 @ 08:59 pm
"I would take them with me, to the place of my afterlife, so a doctor from the future may look at them," Teja had said, when he had once more found Adalgoth by himself, with his baby daughters, who were screaming so badly that the men could hardly speak against the noise.

Adalgoth stared at him.

"I would take you, also, if you may enter my door."

That was far more acceptable. Teja was quietly amused -- much as Adalgoth revered him, he would not let his king's ghost take his tiny daughters to the next world.


So they walked to the barrow-hill, Adalgoth carrying the babies, marvelling at the door when Teja opened it.

But he could not pass the threshold. Like an invisible wall, the strange place pushed Adalgoth away; in the end, Teja took the babies and stepped within, promising to be back in no time at all.-
Teja son of Tagila
08 February 2011 @ 10:53 pm
It is sunny when Teja steps through his door today, into the snow that covers the slopes of his barrow-hill. It is wet snow, and as he approaches the house (again not leaving tracks in the snow), water is dripping off the eaves on the sun-side.

A boy and a girl (Alaric and Rauthgundis, Teja knows their names to be) are walking out of the door as he comes close, the boy sulking and the girl prodding him, and they pass within inches of him without taking any notice.

There is are noises inside the house, crying babies, and something rather more awful.

They're the twin girls, bawling in unison, and their father, Adalgoth, trying to tune an utterly out-of-tune harp.

Men may have made more beautiful music on random iron garden fences -- that bad a way is that poor instrument in.

Nobody else is in there, in the entire long house; all else have fled the noise, it seems.

The twins, when they see him, stop crying and look at him solemnly; and Adalgoth's hands still on the harp strings as he looks up to see what quietened his children.

"Are you here?" he whispers into the suddenly silent house.

"I am," Teja says, and sits beside him. Adalgoth looks at him, right at him, as if he could feel what he said, and guess where he sits.

"What befell your harp?" Teja asks.

"Snow fell on it from the roof, and it was lost for awhile, only appearing again with today's thaw," Adalgoth says. "One knows not who took it out, and I would not punish all the children until one confesses. I should, though, should I?"

He looks at Teja, who was always so stark and stern.

"You should not," Teja says. "They are but children; and if it is one of the older ones, honour and bad conscience will soon press it to confess on their own. What ails your babes, to make them cry that badly?"

"I know not," Adalgoth says. "They cry more than any of the others did, lately; and when one starts, the other will join in. Gotho is worried doubly: - for them, and for robbing all here of their night's sleep, night after night. I said I would watch them, so she may have a moment's quietness in the baking house."

One of the twins starts making uneasy noises again, and Teja gets up to look at her, and stroke the soft down on her head.

She quietens, looking at him in bemusement; and Teja wonders what it is that she sees, to dazzle her so.

"I shall ask the healer that works in the place serving as my afterlife, whether he may come here, or I may bring them, to find out what ails them, and cure them of it," Teja says. "And look at all the other things healers look at so babes grow up well. They have made quite an art of it."

"Will you come more often now?" Adalgoth asks. "And without dire need calling for you?"

"Yes," Teja says.

Then, the red cat slips in through the door, followed by chattering voices, and Teja knows it is time to leave.

Ghosting past Gotho and Liuta, re-entering into unexpected quiet, he returns into the sunlight, and to his barrow-hill, knowing he will be back.-
Teja son of Tagila
People had worn horns and strange dresses in the bar that day, and that, if nothing else, had told Teja which day of the year it was.

Last year, and the year before that, the veil between the worlds had become thin around this time, and Teja had seen how his people had fared, and then even spoken to those dearest to him, ending that which had been left dangling open-ended between them.

Teja did not expect anything this year; had they not spoken of all that had been unspoken for such a long time?

And yet, he knew it was the time, the only time when it was possible at all.

He had lain down in his bed night after night, ready for deep words, and yet woken each morning only from dream not much different from those on any other night of the year.

Life Goes OnCollapse )
Teja son of Tagila
30 April 2010 @ 12:13 pm
The day before yesterday, Teja had found Urquhart lying on his cot, wild masses of blond hair covering back and shoulder, breathing quietly, but not answering to anything Teja said. Teja had left the coffee and gone.

Yesterday, Teja had found Urquhart still lying on his cot, hiding in his hair, with the coffee sitting untouched just inside the barrier in the place where things could be passed through. Teja had exchanged the cold coffee for nice fresh hot coffee, and left.

Today, Teja finds Urquhart still on his cot, unmoving, yesterday's coffee again cold and untouched. He takes away the cold coffee, then opens the barrier and walks inside with the hot coffee in his hands. He puts it down among the mess of books, finds a place to sit beside the cot, pushes his fingers deep into the wild blond hair, shoving it out of the way and taking hold, ungently, to lift up the man's head and force him to turn and face him. "So you are, indeed, still alive," he says, disdainfully.
Teja son of Tagila
23 January 2010 @ 01:22 am
It is summer in this place, and there is a surf on these shores, and somewhere out there, whales are reputed to be.

Teja is walking on the shore; Demeter and he have gone here today, from the cottage among the vineyards.

He is barefoot.
Teja son of Tagila
04 December 2009 @ 02:03 pm
Lovely WAFF-y Teja/Adalgoth drabble that ceitfianna wrote for me!
Teja son of Tagila
11 November 2009 @ 07:57 pm
It has not been a week yet, since Teja took ill; and Guppy had said to stay in his room for a week, lest he 'infect the universe', so Teja does that. But his fever and the hallucinations have receded somewhat, and he merely coughs and blows his nose much, now, and listlessly sprawls on his rug, too listless to read, even though he has books -- a surfeit of luxuries, like a modern man has, Teja chides himself, but that does not incite him to read any clever books about the end of the Roman empire, either.

So last night, he ventured out to find something else to read, and happened upon the Swan King, who was drinking by himself at the bar and assured him that shape-shifters didn't get sick, not in his world. When Teja told him what he was looking for, Donovan had said that many people liked to watch sentimental movies while they were recovering from something, in his experience. That most of his experience was about women, Donovan didn't say.

So, Teja asked the bar for sentimental movies and something to watch them with, and he got a stack of cases that contained disks much like his music CDs, and a player much like his CD player, also, but with a screen like a omputer attached to it. Teja took it all back to his room, but felt tired, and went to sleep.

This morning, however, he is awake again, sprawled on his rug, and instead of chiding himself for indolence, Teja is watching a movie, about the dramatic wreck of some huge, great ship, with thousands of people on it that are, to judge from the beginning of the tale, all going to drown. If any one comes to Teja's room, the rats will open the door, and Teja will look up from the little device which is playing quite lively music at the moment.
Teja son of Tagila
08 November 2009 @ 06:10 pm
When he is asleep, rolled up on the large fur in front of his fireplace (Teja does not hold with spending days in bed), he dreams of rain and fire, explosions in the darkness, blood and black feathers.

When he wakes, he would rather sleep; he looks around blearily, and one of the rats brings him more water, or more tea, or perhaps ciders. They bring him chicken soup with roasted bread, also, but Teja never feels like eating much of it.

And then, he turns over again, Count settles on his feet or in the crook of his arms, and he returns to fire and darkness and a cat named Gabriel, and a tough young girl named Sarah, and the yearning for revenge, and for his beloved...
Teja son of Tagila
07 November 2009 @ 09:50 pm
Justice. He needs to deal out justice, grimly, mercilessly, because he is the one that can do it; he does not flinch, and he take no wounds from those that would defend themselves, helplessly, against his just wrath.

Mercy. There are those whose lives were upset deeply by his death, and he would put it right. He would put it all right. Sarah; Gabriel -- they need a life, a future, hope, and will have it, almost as a by-product of his revenge. He walks through fire and explosion, runs over roofs in the rains, following the crow (rook?).

Hope. Out of all this, hope will spring, and he will have his reward: when the evil have been punished, when the good have their lives back, then he may go back and rejoin his beloved, whom these evil men have violated unto death.

Madness. To all those that meet him, this is madness. None know him, under the black and white paint; all think him dead. The trader does not know who he is, and gibbers as Eric (Teja?) is sitting on his floor, going through the golden rings in the man's box, throwing them over his shoulder, one after the other, until he finds the one that used to belong to his beloved, so small and thin, it barely fits on his smallest finger; but he puts it on, still, and strides out, flames rising behind him.

To his revenge; to his fate.-

[[OOC: Teja hallucinated being Eric Draven from 'The Crow', for the IMDb flu plot line in Milliways.]]
Teja son of Tagila
What The King Would Have WantedCollapse )

[[OOC: Many elements of this had occasionally occurred to me; but the inspiration to write this now and in this shape came entirely from an IM conversation with saphyria last night, so many thanks to her for the idea! By now, two years into playing Teja at Milliways, I have accepted that he'll never have canon mates because his canon is completely unpalatable to everybody, even in the watered-down translation; so I no longer hesitate to give Adalgoth millicanon at last, and give Teja some sort of closure with it.]]
Teja son of Tagila
ceitfianna wrote a wonderful drabble with Sameth and Teja in the forge -- so true to who they are!

The prompt was 'How to be dead'.
Teja son of Tagila
26 July 2009 @ 11:10 pm
Teja reading a bookCollapse )

Teja popping his cherryCollapse )

Well-shagged TejaCollapse )

[[Warning: SEX in the second and third drabble. Duh!]]
Teja son of Tagila
06 July 2009 @ 08:07 pm
alchemistseraph did three cute little Charlie/Teja drabbles for the 28 flavours meme. Linked so I don't lose them!
Teja son of Tagila
16 June 2009 @ 07:53 pm
He is still there.

In the roots of a large tree by the pond in the forest, Teja is hiding; he is rolled together like a cat in a basket, head hidden under an outflung arm; but he is not sleeping.

He is mourning, picking through the contents of his heart, scratching at the parts that hurt most: missing lost loves, regretting decisions that may have robbed him and another of happiness, the simple, physical movement of pushing away Totila, pushing away Adalgoth...
Teja son of Tagila
29 April 2009 @ 02:35 pm
The laws of men would never get any less complex, and so, Teja had been led towards something he did not really wish for.

Legal RamificationsCollapse )
Teja son of Tagila
[[Some days after this]]

Witichis had stayed a night longer than all his guests -- only one night, and he was off again, leaving some of his armed men to watch over the womenfolk, along with staunch Wachis and the grooms.

Of which there was one more, now, as Duke Totila had left the Greek groom from Neapolis, also, as a 'gift' to his hostess. All knew how that was meant, and were glad about it, none more than Berenike, the Greek maid from Cyprus.

Little Athalwin was openly cranky: shiny Totila had left, his father had left soon after, and quiet Teja had not played his harp again. He was poking the grass with a stick, quite displeased; and Ursula, spreading the used and washed linen on the lawn, had to keep him from treading upon it.
Teja son of Tagila
15 March 2009 @ 07:58 pm
Teja's room looks as it always does -- spare and simple, with a map table holding writings and drawings, a CD player and a stack of CDs, armour and some weapons in a corner, the door to the bath ajar so cats can go there if they wish to.

But the light of the moon -- almost full still! -- reveals some differences, also.

Two identical harps in the corner by the guitar.

Two men in the bed. This is not related.-
Teja son of Tagila
12 March 2009 @ 07:48 pm
Teja has ever seen true dreams, when he was alive; now that he is dead (newly dead, again), he still must sleep -- and he still will dream.

This night, he falls asleep with a feeling of worry about those strangers that are his friends, or would be, if he remembered anything that had happened after his death (the first time).

And he is given a tiny painful glimpse.

Not quite a memory, and not wholly a dream...Collapse )

Teja wakes to another grey morning, and he is alone -- alone in his bed with the cats. The dream does not stay clear and present as a vision, but fades to a memory of warmth and tender contentment, almost painful in its remembered sweetness. Teja has never known such feeling in his life.-

[[OOC: Text of the dream taken from this OOM co-written with Charlie-mun.]]