Disclaimer: Okay, So I don't Own Nathan or Pickles or Skwisgaar, and hell, I wouldn't own Murderface if he were free, but sadly, I don't own Toki. I DO however own Thora.

A/N: Okay, so here's just the prologue. Have funnn!

**edited

She paced. Around and around and around. She paced. She stopped in front of her full-length mirror. Her cyan eyes, glistening in anticipation, outlined in simple kitten liner. She ran her tongue over her shell-pink lips, and sighed. Scrutiny. She must look perfect. She began to pick at her gray v-neck sweater, pulling off little fuzzies and random hairs here and there. She was, in all matters, a nervous wreck.

Thora took a deep breath as her mother called to her. Her namesake, the god of Thunder, was brave, strong, and powerful, just as she must be. Trying not to set herself up for disappointment, she tucked a brunette strand behind her ear, and took one last look at herself, looking closely at every flaw. She wasn't especially curvy, had decent boobs, a D-cup, but her waist was only a size seven. Top heavy. Ugh. She was just your average Scandinavian. Just a Snowflake in this Tundra. Hopefully, she was enough to impress.

She flinched as her mother called her again, her voice a croak in their native tongue. A voice that had been silenced for so many years. The voice she hadn't heard until she was seventeen when her father had died. And now, in Anja Wartooth's old age, the voice of Death, and yet, of her last hope. She took a deep breath, hovering by the door to the living room in the small flat as she had been instructed. Semi-tight onyx denim clad her long legs as she fought the urge to run, and little deerskin moccasins warmed her toes in the frozen wasteland she called home.

The knock on the door came precisely at eight, just as she knew it would. He was never late, Mother had always said so. Her mother answered the door, and let the visitor into their small, pitiful flat. She'd have to appear soon, and hopefully, leave as well. Norway had nothing for Thora Wartooth, nothing but a life of silence, a life of a never-ending winter. A life alone.

Thora dared a peek around the corner as their visitor stepped through the doorway. He was a bit taller than she, she saw as she spied, as he stood hugging Mother. His hair was almost as long as hers, the same chestnut shade, perfect with the shine to it. She could see his eyes, the dancing, playful, concerned irises, and it was like a mirror. A damned reflection. The same azure orbs were set into the same pale, smooth face. His wasn't as gaunt as hers. He ate more, she could see, well fed, and with that, she breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted not for anything. He was well. She also had the feminine appeal gracing her face, whilst his took a more masculine appeal. His nose had the little turn hers did, but he had some sort of odd facial hair, and she giggled silently. He wore a blue tee-shirt. Blue had always been his favorite color.

He hadn't changed since she had last walked past the yard as he labored away six years prior, minus the facial hair and the healthy weight. Standing up straight and tall, she practiced her English in her head like she had been out loud all day.

'Good evening Toki. My name is Thora. I made this for you.' She thought. She pictured herself handing him the portrait she'd drawn of them as children. It was detailed, and if not for the fact she knew she sketched it, slaved over it for weeks, could have been a photograph. She rehearsed her next line. 'This is you and I, before I went away. We were very close as children. I'm your sister. Your twin sister.'

Then Anja would plead for him to take her away with him. Offer him money for her if she had to. She was selling her again, but Thora knew it was to a better place this time. She'd watched Toki on the T.V. At the local music shop. He was sweet, and caring, and maybe, he'd like her enough to save her.

"Mor, det er deilig å se deg, men hvorfor ringte du meg ut her i en slik hast? Er det noe galt?" Mother, it's lovely to see you, but why did you call me out here in such a hurry? Is something the matter? His voice was just a tad deeper, a light tenor, whilst she spoke in a rumbling alto. He lacked the female flourish, however, and his Norwegian was slightly accented.

"Toki, barnet mitt, jeg er veldig nær å sikre seg faren din." Toki, my child, I'm very close to joining your father. Anja croaked softly, holding Toki's hand from across the coffee table.

"Mor, ikke si det. De har gode leger i Amerika. Bli med meg, og de kan hjelpe deg." Mother, don't say that. They have good doctors in America. Come with me, and they can help you. He kept his voice unusually calm for someone receiving that news. Then again, Anja was high in her years. He had been expecting it.

"Nei, Toki, jeg vil hvile her. Min tid er snart." No, Toki, I want to rest here. My time is soon.

"Du kalte meg hjem for å begrave deg?" You called me home to bury you? Something was creeping into his voice. Something she'd heard often when he was bullied as a child. Determination. He was, she supposed, determined to be strong about this whole ordeal. It hurt Thora to hear her Mother talk like that, although she didn't love Anja.

"Ja, men nei. Toki, jeg har noen som ønsker å møte deg. Du kan miste meg, men du vil få en enda lysere stjerne i livet ditt. Du bør ha møtt dem for lenge siden, men velsignet Odin har endelig lov til å bli med." Yes, but no. Toki, I have someone who would like to meet you. You may lose me, but you will gain an even brighter star in your life. You should have met them long ago, but blessed Odin has finally allowed you to join. Her voice was cracking, softening.

That was her cue. She stepped around the corner, her hands behind her back, hiding the portrait of what they should have had. She pleaded for her voice and her English to cooperate.

"Good evenings, Toki." She took a deep breath, her alto quivering as she spoke the words that had long been trapped inside her mind.

Toki's mouth was slightly ajar. "Good evenings." He managed. He was awestruck. She looked like him!

"My names ams–"

"Thora."

She nodded, took a step closed to him, and he rose, briny blues meeting. "I mades dis for yous." She offered him the drawing, and he took it, examining it closely. His eyes clouded over. Misting with, she wasn't sure. They stood there for what seemed like the eternity she had hoped for and feared this moment.

"They tolds me yous was fakes. Imaginary friends." His voice was as dry as Anja's.

"It ams yous and me's before I wents aways. We was very closes, ja? I ams yous sisters, Toki Wartooth. You's twin sisters." She whispered those four sentences.

The male Wartooth looked from the picture to Thora to Anja, eyes darting, flashing, dancing like waves in the sun. They stood like that, for a long time, in a silence kept by the swirling snow outside. Finally, Anja beckoned to them, and so, they each took a side next to her on the sofa.

"Toki, barnet mitt, du er Lyn og hun er Torden. Vær så snill, er min tid kort. Ta henne med deg. Hjelpe henne. Holde henne tett alltid. La hennes fotspor følger din. Det er ingenting i moderlandet for henne. Gi henne en sjanse til å leve." Toki, my child, you are the Lightning and she is the Thunder. Please, my time is short. Take her with you. Help her. Keep her close always. Let her footsteps follow yours. There is nothing in the Motherland for her. Give her a chance at living. Anja's voice was getting softer, the twins each taking a hand as Toki had placed the picture on the coffee table. Tears filled both their eyes, not because they loved her, but because they never had. They never could. She who had hurt them, let their father hurt them. She who had shown no love, spoke no words, held none close. She who was just a vessel.

And here it was, they knew, the end of her light in the world, and they had never had a Mother to love and cherish them. She had stood by as her husband beat Toki, beat Thora, and she had sold Thora more than once. It hurt both of them, very deeply, to watch someone they should have but did not love, die.

"Lyn, vær så snill, ta henne." Lightning, please, take her.

"Ja, mamma, jeg tar henne." Yes, Mama, I'll take her. His voice was steady, although he was shaking. What would he do with her!?

"Lov meg?" Promise me?

"Kan Odin slår meg, jeg sverger det slik." May Odin strike me, I swear it so. He'd keep her safe, that's what he'd do. He didn't know how, he just knew that somehow, he would.

"Torden, lære av ham." Thunder, learn from him.

"Ja, mamma, jeg lærer." Yes, Mama, I'll learn. Her voice was quiet. What could he teach her?

"La America gi deg sjansen." Let America give you your chance.

"Jeg tar hver sjanse jeg får." I'll take every chance I get. Hopefully he wouldn't sell her.

"Måtte Herren av Silence våke over deg med hver bestått pusten. Kan Odin veilede deg, Loke vise deg, og Thor vakt deg. Sammen ..." May the Lord of the Silence watch over you with each passing breath. May Odin guide you, Loki show you, and Thor guard you. Together... She stopped to wheeze, which turned into a coughing fit they thought they'd never recover from. "Sammen, vil du være den perfekte stormen, ustoppelig og guddommelig. Jeg vil være sus av vinden i øret. Jeg har aldri elsket deg som jeg burde ha, men jeg vil elske deg nå, mine barn. Tvillingene mine. Min Lyn og min Torden." Together, you will be the Perfect Storm, unstoppable and divine. I will be the whisper of the wind in your ear. I've never loved you as I should have, but I will love you now, my children. My twins. My Lightning and my Thunder.

They both watched as the color from her milky, cataract eyes dulled, the light left. Silver streams trickled down both cheeks, flowing unchecked. They locked eyes. The Twins. The Perfect Storm.

They buried her in the caves beneath the Silent Church, in a tomb with their father. No one came but them. Neither said much, just as she never had. They'd never known Anja as they should have, but in a last blessing, she had brought them together. Those without twins would never understand, could never understand the unspoken bond they shared. They would never come apart now.

Toki cleaned the sparse flat of Thora's things, and set it to flame that night. In the flickering flames that licked the very heavens, Toki helped his sister into the black limo, heading for the airport. Away from the winter-land. Away from Lillehammer. Towards a future. A very bright future. He clutched the picture she'd drawn for him to his chest, Deddy resting in the crook of his elbow. He looked over it again. A mirrored reflection, the lightning bolt and the thunder clap. They were the perfect storm.

A/N: Well, I think it's a nice start! I'll write again soon, but it's 4:00 A.M., and I have class in four hours. Goodnight Fanfiction, Helloooooo sleep!

I edited it :)