Elverum Måløy Troshaldr // D8 [FIN]

Compared to his sister, Elverum is surely the more approachable one, even if he does appear to be made of parts from different people. On one hand you have his sister, (his baby sister) whose heart seems to have just been shipped in from a freezer, and the other, a slightly damaged package of warmth. Except, he is not fully warm, more of a match that was recently blown out, still embedded in the thermal energy, but not nearly as warm as it had been when it struck alive to begin with.

In the form of a younger boy, he was not always afraid to let his cooling heart beat in the hands of another. Every Saturday he used to spend his time at his elderly neighbor's house in fact, talking and eating and complaining and helping around with her chores and laughing the small chuckles only elders and children could because they can see past the hardships and destruction in the world. The smile that would pin onto her face after assisting her would pour like golden solace into his heart, because he was glad to help without an award, he had that type of luxury past then. But that's what he knows now and that he did not know then, that luxury was not just rags and riches, but the pride of helping for the sole purpose of helping and being able to take small talk for granted.

Calling himself wiser would be an overstatement, he's known all along not to take anything for granted, but he took them for it anyways. He knew he had not become wiser either, for he could barely remember the face staring back into him in the mirror was himself, that the girl risking everything for him's face would be the same as it was yesterday. Hell, even the faces lined up outside the tiny abandoned rucksack of a home the two left shared seemed to evolve into clouds in the mind of his. But 'hell' was what it was like, forgetting where he was and who he was and the person next to him wasn't trying to decapitate him, it was all torture, going to sleep in one bed and waking up in the shower.

The organ beating in the center of his chest only kept warm for a couple things, because it was the things he took for granted he would lose, so cherishing them would lock their lives together. He cared for his sister, Saffle, loads, and being the sole one to hear her true voice was heartwarming to him. Somethings could not love back though, somethings he had to just trust not to walk away from him, like the simple, trash Polaroid camera nobody was allowed to touch, or the walls in the back room with the face of everybody he could take a Polaroid of. But it was a shame how something somebody could take to heart so closely, could easily transform into the villain. For his mother promised to be there for him, to pat the dust out of his hair for hiding in the cupboard and to hug him in warmth and the smell of recently baked dough. Her words of cheer painted the sun in his brain and etched the voice waves of them into his mind in braille.

Apparently a kitchen ax could ruin all that in a split second.

It was not Elverum who had done it, the tall kid with the face of the moon and heart twice the size, but the four foot even girl with hair as white as the snow that the two danced in during the winter months. Never had he thought about dropping the hatchet over somebody elses skull, but his little sister dreamed about the thrill. She had meant to kill their mother, to him their mother was a saint but to get a full image you have to look through every angle. So he killed his father.

Of course he had not done it fully for the 'thrill' or to know what Saffle had felt when she embraced the act. Elverum had severed their father's life string only because he did not realize the face he was looking at, or the one he was looking through. Everybody was different then how he remembered them.

Is part of the District 8 Board Games plot; brother of Säffle Ängleholm Troshaldr; murderer of Francis Aarhus Troshaldr; staged for the murder of Flöha Arnis Saxony-Troshaldr; based upon the board game, 'Guess Who?'

Is finished.