The Edge to Trollveggen The Stillness

Posted on Fri Apr 10th, 2026 @ 1:39am by Commander Jenna Ramthorne & Commander Rosa Coy

1,654 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: Earth - Norway

Consciousness returned in weighted layers that gathered before meaning formed. Rosa surfaced through sensation first, her body asserting itself with quiet insistence as awareness assembled around it. Weight settled across her chest and limbs, dense and grounding, while breath moved through lungs that resisted depth and demanded care.

The air tasted dry and sterile, carrying the faint trace of antiseptic that lingered along the back of her throat. A low mechanical hum threaded through the space, steady and measured, joined by softer tones that rose and fell with clinical precision.

Movement passed close to her. Hands adjusted something at her side, fingers working with practiced efficiency. Fabric shifted near her shoulder. A voice spoke in a calm, steady cadence, guiding without urgency as light pressed through her eyelids.

She opened her eyes into a brightness that held no shadow, a clean and even illumination that filled the room with quiet authority. Figures moved within that light, shapes resolving slowly as her focus gathered.

She drew a breath with intention and felt the response ripple through her body. Pain rose from several points at once, deep and insistent, each location asserting its presence with clarity. Her shoulder held tight and resisted motion, her ribs pressed against each breath with a dull, steady ache, and her leg carried a weight that anchored her fully to the surface beneath her. Her head pulsed with a slow pressure that shifted as her awareness deepened.

She tested her fingers and felt them respond, each movement deliberate and slightly delayed. Her other hand followed, heavier yet present. She drew another breath, adjusted the depth, and mapped the resistance along her side with growing precision. Control returned in pieces, each part requiring attention before it joined the whole.

Injury defines limits, Coy observed, the voice steady and composed, carrying the weight of accumulated experience. This degree of damage has been endured before. Greater, in some instances. The body recovers. It always has. It likely always will.

Still hurts like a son of a Bitch. Handzon so helpfully offered. Like death without the cold ending.

Rosa allowed the words to settle within her awareness as she continued to take stock of her condition. Time moved around her in measured intervals as hands adjusted sensors and instruments responded to her presence. A device shifted along her arm and registered data with quiet efficiency. A voice spoke again near her, guiding her breathing with gentle authority that matched her own effort.

Medical systems worked with precision, stabilizing tissue and reducing pain to something manageable and contained. The sharpest edges softened, leaving behind the knowledge of injury rather than its full force. Her awareness deepened as minutes passed and sensation organized into something she could understand.

Memory followed sensation. Stone pressed beneath her hands, solid and unyielding. Air moved across her body with force and direction. The open drop of the wall extended beneath her, vast and present. Flight carried her forward, wind shaping her movement. Speed followed, rising and sharpening as the hoverbike responded beneath her, each adjustment feeding the next.

The elk stepped into her path with quiet certainty, its body occupying the space she had already claimed. Her grip tightened, her body aligned, and within that moment a gap formed.

The absence returned to her as a sensation rather than an image, a fraction of time where her awareness loosened its hold and allowed displacement. The thread between perception and action shifted just enough to alter the outcome. She felt the shape of that absence now, clear and unmistakable, as it settled into her understanding.

Her jaw tightened as she drew a steady breath. “You chose that moment to invade my mind?” she questioned, her voice low and controlled. “You stole it from me.”

I stepped in, Handzon replied, his tone calm and assured, carrying a quiet confidence that settled close. You opened the door. I walked through it. You wanted more than control. You wanted to feel. I gave you what we needed.

The words moved through her awareness with an intimacy that pressed at the edges of her control. His presence felt closer here, shaped by the vulnerability of stillness and the absence of motion that had once anchored her.

Moments of absence occur across many hosts, Coy added, steady and unhurried. The distinction lies in recognition and response. You have recognized it.

Recognition settled into her with weight and clarity. It did not resolve the tension within her, yet it defined its boundaries.

A new presence entered her space and drew her attention outward.

The nurse approached with measured steps, her posture relaxed and assured, her movements carrying the ease of familiarity with injury and recovery. Light caught in strands of pale blonde hair gathered loosely at the back of her head, with a few soft lines falling forward to frame her face. Her features held a natural balance, her expression attentive and open as she moved closer to Rosa’s side.

Her eyes tracked the readings on the monitor before shifting to Rosa with a steady, focused gaze. A quiet warmth lived in that look, grounded and present. She reached for Rosa’s wrist and adjusted a sensor with practiced precision, her fingers firm and controlled as they made contact. The warmth of her touch registered immediately, distinct against the clinical neutrality of the room.

“You’re awake,” she said, her voice carrying a soft Swedish cadence that shaped her English with gentle rhythm. “That is good.”

Her thumb pressed lightly along the inside of Rosa’s wrist as she checked the reading, her touch deliberate and efficient. She moved to adjust the support at Rosa’s shoulder, her arm brushing close as she worked. The contact remained professional and precise, yet proximity carried its own presence, her body close enough for Rosa to feel the subtle warmth of it.

There we go, Handzon murmured, his tone shifting with interest as he focused on the interaction. Warm hands, steady touch, and she knows exactly where to place them. You feel that, don’t you. Oh I do love the touch of a sweet nurse.

Rosa felt it as a subtle shift beneath her skin, awareness heightening in response to contact and proximity. The nurse continued her work, adjusting a brace along Rosa’s side before stepping back slightly to meet her gaze. “How are you feeling?” she asked, her tone attentive and steady.

Rosa held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary as she considered her response. The pause stretched just enough to register before she spoke. “I have experienced smoother landings,” she said, her voice carrying a tone that lingered slightly, a cadence that did not fully align with her usual control.

She recognized it as soon as it left her mouth.

The nurse’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile, warmth settling easily into her expression. “I believe that,” she replied, her hand returning briefly to adjust the support along Rosa’s ribs. “You were fortunate. Your injuries will heal well with proper rest.”

Fortunate, Handzon echoed softly, his tone amused and intimate. You should thank her. She would enjoy that.

Rosa drew a slow breath and shifted her focus inward, grounding herself in the sensation of her body against the bed and the controlled rhythm of her breathing. “What is the extent of the damage?” she asked, her tone steadier, redirected with intention.

The nurse stepped back slightly, giving her space while maintaining her attentive presence. “You have fractured ribs, a strained shoulder, and a mild concussion,” she said. “There is no permanent damage. You will recover fully, though your body requires time. Your muscles will be especially tender. Your symbiont does not appear to have taken any damage, if you are wondering.”

“For how long?” Rosa asked.

“A minimum of one week,” the nurse replied. “Two weeks would support a more complete recovery. Your body requires stillness to heal properly.”

Stillness settled into the space between them with weight. Rosa felt a subtle tightening along her jaw as she absorbed the instruction, the reaction contained yet present within her posture.

You'll look for something before that time passes, Handzon said quietly, his voice returning to a softer certainty. We always do.

Rosa allowed the thought to pass without response.

The nurse completed her adjustments and offered one final look, her gaze steady and warm as she stepped back. “I will return to check on you,” she said, her voice gentle as she moved toward the door.

The room settled again as she left, the hum of machines filling the space with quiet consistency. Light remained constant. Her body rested within its limits, pain present yet contained, each sensation defining the boundaries she now occupied.

Handzon remained within her awareness. Coy remained as well. Neither pressed forward.

Rosa lay still and breathed with measured control, feeling the edges of herself with clarity shaped by consequence. The hunger remained within her, present and active, reaching for expression with familiar persistence. She turned her attention toward it and studied its movement, its direction, its demand.

Motion had carried her. Speed had sharpened her. Absence had altered her path. Her gaze settled forward as thought began to take form.

She would choose environments that demanded presence. She would seek risk that required engagement of body and mind together. She would practice awareness within motion until the line held without fracture.

You will find something, Handzon said softly, his presence steady and patient.

Rosa drew a slow breath and let it out with intention, allowing the thought to settle without reply.

The mountain remained.
The valley remained.
Within her, the line waited to be held again.
...everything unchanged except the place where she lay within it.

TBC

 

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