Scandinavian Heartstrings, in Drop D.

Chapter 11.1 Light side of the Moon

The salty water ran over his tongue and burned his eyes. The world went dark as the ocean waves played with him, tossing him this way and that. His body was in shock from the impact and none of the neural impulses that said 'swim' made it to his limbs. However, the part of his brain that wanted to breathe was gaining ground. Skwisgaar fought the instinct to pull the outside into himself, knowing that if he did, it would be the end of him. That was always going to be the end of him, letting things in. You need water to live but if it gets into the wrong part of you, you're done for.

Let me in

A voice called from the cold darkness all around him. Had he heard it, or just remembered he had without it passing through his ears? Skwisgaar's throat pulled down involuntarily in little jerking motions. Like a master pulling the string on a servant bell, his lungs were demanding air and were growing impatient. A wave twisted him and suddenly he was being carried by the current. A tiny man in the hands of a watery Goddess.

He couldn't hold his lungs still much longer. His consciousness was starting to slip and soon the reflex that had kept him alive above the water would be the cause of his demise. The muffled sound of waves breaking against the rocks pounded through his head. The beating drum of his death march.

The Norns decide our fate from the moment we are born. He had survived fire, fan attacks, assassination attempts, bombings, overdoses, psycho groupies, car crashes, alcohol poisoning, even being hunted by a pack of wolves. Just last night he had a shotgun pointed at him, certain he would die. But this was the choice of the Norns, for him to drown in the Floridian sea. Who was he to deny the will of the Gods? This was a Viking's death; taken by the waves that bore them to new lands and new fortune. He'd left Sweden all those years ago, determined to find greatness, to be the best, to show Pelle once and for all he had no power over him. That he could surpass him, that he could be whole without him. And he had done that, hadn't he?

At least he could join the 27 club, although he was technically older than that now, but Charles would sort out the paperwork, he always did. He supposed, he'd be able to ask him about it soon.

Skwisgaar let his pout part, one, last, time.

A force hit his chest, making it impossible to draw the ocean into him. Something had latched onto his shirt and it was pulling him as it moved clumsily through the water. Suddenly, he could hear again and his face was cold as the sea breeze swept over it. His lungs burned and laboured, still taking in more water than they should, but not as much as they were about to.

Toki gasped when they broke the water's surface and desperately tried to keep Skwisgaar's spluttering head up. The waves intensified but Toki took this as a sign they were nearing the shore. The tip of his boot felt sand underneath him and he let the water carry them a few more feet until he could stand.

Breath rasping, Skwisgaar clung to Toki even though he was taller, unsure if he could stand himself yet. They sloshed towards the beach and eventually Skwisgaar found his feet. He fell to his hands and knees when he reached the break line.

The two guitarists collapsed next to each other on the hard, wet sand and let the waves lap up to their thighs. A few small rocks and shells dug into their backs as they lay close enough to feel each other's body warmth, proof they were still alive.

"Fuck." Was all Skwisgaar could muster.

"Yeahs, fuck." Toki said with a small, desperate laugh.

They panted and spluttered for a few more moments. Skwisgaar's entire chest cavity thudded and throbbed as he looked up to the balcony from which they had fallen. Three faces looked down at them then disappeared franticly. It seemed at least a mile in the sky from down here. They should be dead. He went completely limp on the sand; Vulnerable, unable to move, and exposed to the night. Maybe they were dead? Maybe they had died in the snow that night in the Gulf of Danzig and made it to Valhalla. Now they were two warriors, locked in battle for eternity. He forced his hand to reach out and grab Toki's wrist.