riverviewlogs | The Yule Log

The Yule Log

who: The Norse and everyone else in the city!
what: The Norse celebrate Yule. Gods help everyone.
when: December 22nd, Winter Solstice
where: Somewhere outside
warnings: Alcohol, drugs, animal sacrifice, blood play, rough foreplay, sex. Will update if necessary.

The Yule celebration has gotten underway on the Winter Solstice and it promises to be a most interesting night. The Norse have gone all out with this affair to make sure it's going to be a success. First thing to be spotted is a bonfire, so big that you might want to be careful not to trip around it, because you'll fall right in. There's plenty of room for dancing too, if you feel like grooving to a beat that's a little more unusual than most.

The Yule celebration shares a lot of similarities with Christmas, so it's a good time for gift giving. There's little shoes on a table, mimicking the tradition where Odin would leave presents for good children by putting them in their shoes. Claim one as your own and maybe a friend will leave a gift inside one for you. Watch it though. Any grinches will be fed to the Yule Cat.

There's a table set up to the right of the bonfire with food, mostly of the hearty kind that the Norse seem to prefer, and of course, lots of alcohol. Please remember not to get into any drinking contests with the gods. They will observe no responsibility for what happens afterward.

There are also mushrooms for consumption, provided by everyone's favorite psychotic Viking, Ivar The Boneless. These ones are directly from his home world, which means they come with a variety of side effects. They have the ability to make a person hallucinate quite a bit. But they can also make people much more horny than usual. Lastly, there's the effect that hits some people in making them extremely violent. Sometimes one effect hits, sometimes more than one. In any case, anyone who consumes some is assured to have an...interesting time.

On a lighter note, there's mistletoe scattered around, hung from the trees and tent beams. Fun fact: the Vikings were the first one to use it for the tradition of kissing. Of course, they also believed it was a plant that was powerful enough to kill a god, so the kissing was ostensibly for protection.

At the height of the night, there will be an animal sacrifice done. A goat is slaughtered and the blood from it is gathered into a couple of bowls. If you'd really like to go all out like a Viking, paint your face in the still-warm blood, or drink a little bit of it. Otherwise, enjoy freshly seared chunks of goat as it bastes over the bonfire.

Have fun, drink, fight, and remember to make your ancestors proud!

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I. Bonfire:
If the sight of the fire hadn't caught her attention, it would have been the beat of the drums. Not in years has she found a gathering that reminds her anything of those early days traveling with Drogo's khalasar. There'd been no time to indulge in feasting and festivities once they'd sailed for Westeros. But here, in a place where nothing exists but free time, at least at surface value: Dany feels a little more at home.

So, she's arrived with her plus one: not Jon, at least not tonight. Though she'd let him know where she'd be if he'd wish to join them. No, there is a little bronze dragon perched on her right shoulder. He chirps and trills now and then, observing the dancing and music with avid curiosity and a boundless intelligence. Dany reaches over to pat his head, murmuring an endearment to him in High Valyrian before making for the fire.

This time, she doesn't stick her hand in the flames so much as brushes them with her knuckles; it feels nice. And should someone notice, she'll look up with a raised eyebrow and say simply: "I am the blood of the dragon." Fire can never harm her.

II. Mingling:
( Expect her to literally turn the other cheek if approached for kisses. But she may be cajoled into a dance, while Viserion flies overhead; adding his voice to the music. )

III. Sacrifice:
( This isn't new to her either, and she's tried her best to assimilate with every culture she's come across. with the Dothraki, the Meereenese—this is no different. Fire and Blood are the words of her House, and she is the last scion it will ever have. Dany bends her head, accepting whatever mark she may be given. Already, the meat is beginning to smell tantalizing, roasting over the fire.

She looks up with a small smile, Viserion gliding in to land at her elbow. )

I've never been to your world, and may never, besides. All the same, this is familiar. I'd not thought to experience the like again.

IV. Wildcard:
( Want anything else? Just leave a prompt or lmk at

enthrone )

[ Dany turns a cheek away and Loki pecks it with a kiss, dancing around her with a wide berth given to both mother and dragon. ]

The mistletoe made me do it!

( She feels the touch before she can see the face of who'd given it. And so she stands straight and as tall as her small stature can manage before turning to gaze with narrowed eyes at a woman who at face value she's not met before. Viserion spreads his wings and leans forward, growling low.

And then Dany recognizes those eyes, and finally huffs as she crosses her arms over her chest. )

A half-hearted excuse if I've ever heard one. I'll allow it, but only the once.

( It unnerves and fascinates her all at once. Those who serve the Many Faced God can changes their faces; so it seems that gods might changes forms at will. Or at least this one can. Dany steps forward, uttering a soft word in Valyrian to hush the hatchling at her side. )

Does the fox enjoy such festivities most in the form of a vixen?

[ Dany is infuriatingly adorable when she stands her ground, leaving Loki somewhere between daring to want to kiss her again and knowing full well better. She trots forward, wiggling her fingers at Viserion to see if he'll follow them with his eyes while hers are on his mother (keeping them well out of range of naughty teeth and firebreath, because she's not that brave). ]

I enjoy what I want whenever and however I want, but ... [ She shapeshifts into a real vixen before Dany with a momentary blur, and then her smile stretches a snout as she offers her an arm. ] Is this more on the nose for you?

( Viserion bares his teeth; but he's not possessed of the same sharp temper as his brothers. For the moment, he doesn't try to bite or incinerate. And Dany is grateful, because living allies are the best sort. )

I envy you that — a little. ( This time, she does startle somewhat; but it's followed by a laugh that surprises even her. ) Quite literally.

( Loki might find her magic stronger tonight, and it might have a good deal to do with Viserion's presence. He behaves himself as Dany stares down at the offered arm, and then takes it after a moment. )

It's been a long time since I've been to a party.

I envy you your beautiful hair. Mine is always black, no matter my body.

[ Loki yawns and as the jaw of fangs widens, the blur takes over again and she shakes out her Asgardian form, back to a normal woman by the time she pats her mouth. With Dany on her arm, tiny at her side (tiny in general amongst such towering gods and Vikings, but at least Loki is the shortest of the former) she perks up immensely. ]

Ah, but was the last party you attended as fun as this?

And it is a beautiful colour, too: like the night sky.

( She's partial to it, if her choice of partner is any indication. Dany doesn't feel small next to her, in any form. Whether it be her presence or the general atmosphere, she is more at ease tonight in this world than she's been since she and Jon arrived. She turns her head, revealing a faraway expression. )

Decidedly not. The atmosphere was similarly wild, but tonight I'm not goods to be sold. It makes all the difference.

Ah, well. If anyone tries to buy your heart tonight, at least, you can say a god stole it and she refuses to give it back!

[ Flattered by the "night sky" compliment, Loki winks at the queen on her arm. That brings to mind ... ]

But where is your beloved? I had hoped for more fox-vesus-wolf banter until his head span with metaphors.

Such a gallant, and for my sake. Should anyone attempt it, I very well may say that.

( They respect her here; venerate her. While Jon's not here, she could not be in better company for that fact alone. But she's finding that she's enjoying it, at that, smirking a little at the wink she's given. )

Working, I believe. He's most dedicated to keeping the perimeter secure. I hope he might join us later. For now, however, it seems you have me all to yourself.

Between the two of us, and don't tell Jon for his pride may crumble instantly into dust, you're the cuter one. I've no complaints.

[ It turns out Loki's aimless strolling has been leading them to the food tables, a high-rise of an icy throne in sight by the nearby bonfire overlooking the hungry party-goers; ten or so feet tall, it's enough that none of the drunkards attempting to sit there can climb the slippery sides with success. She nods to it, a smile curling on black lips. ]

I can offer the pretty lady a private seat if she wants to eat and drink in peace.

I've not seen him exhibit such pride as you describe in his appearance, though he is beautiful. ( Fact: she doesn't have much of that either, but she knows how to use her looks to her advantage when needed. ) You shouldn't, anyway; metaphors don't make my head spin.

( Nor do they Jon's, not really; but she's relaxed enough tonight to indulge in some gentle teasing. It distracts her from the sight of the throne until just as they walk up to it, and she watches some bright-eyed guests attempt to scale it with a shake of her head. When she turns to look back at Loki, she pauses, considering. And then nods her head once. )

I cannot refuse. ( Viserion screeches softly as if in agreement. ) And I'd like to continue this conversation in peace. I would know you better.

( Both because, well, allies should. But she's also curious. )

As you wish. Ah, perhaps put your arm around my neck so that I may carry you up? [ Her lips twitch in a teasing smirk. ] Or I could toss you up there and hope my aim is true.

There will be no tossing. ( She states this emphatically, but her mouth too shows the beginnings of a smile. ) I weigh very little.

( So, she puts an arm about her shoulders, though it feels a little odd. The last time she was this close to a woman, Irri and Doreah were both still alive. Viserion ends up not appreciating being jostled, and lifts off to circle above the party with a low shriek.

Looking up, she restrains a sigh; he knows his brothers aren't here. Time for a topic change. )

What would you suggest I sample first?

[ With an arched brow, she swings Dany up into her arms bridal-style without a hint of effort. ]

So you do. [ As much as a leaf might weigh upon a mountain. ] I suggest the goat, purely because there may not be many choice sections left soon, coveted as it is for favours from gods ... like me.

[ Dany may feel the moment Loki's knees bend and she tenses before springing into the air, landing atop the icy monolith as sure-footed as said goat. She sets the queen down on the furs and perches on the arm-rest, the view of the party being very good from each with the warmth of the bonfire washing over from nearby. ]

It would seem as though you'd have no trouble, even if I did and were wearing all my Westerosi finery. ( That's a compliment, btw. Strength is A++. ) The goat would have been my choice as well.

( The sensation of gliding up through the air is not unknown to her, but it's always been upon the back of a dragon. It exhilarates, and her eyes sparkle with it when she turns to look at her. )

Tell me of this celebration. Is it to mark a phase of the moon, or a successful harvest?

[ A dish shimmers onto her palm, pieces of goat on it, and down below on the ground someone exclaims they have had their food stolen. Loki nibbles a piece and offers the plate to Dany. ]

It's usually celebrated between a Winter Solstice and Jolablot, or Yule, a sacrifice of whatever a farmer or a king had to give to the gods to ensure a safe passage into the new year. [ Loki loves these old traditions and the stories they keep; her own are horrid, but others make her smile as she relates them. ] There are Yule Riders, Jolaskreia, who ride from Hel in the underworld and ravage the land while it is as frozen and deathly as Nifleheim itself. The borders between the living and the dead are weaker, because the latter can't tell that they aren't in Hel!

[ Gasp!! Imagine that! Black nails pick apart her shred of meat. ]

This goat is the Julebukk, to supposedly encourage my brother Thor to have mercy on mortals and protect his mother, Gaea, who is the earth, thus keeping them all safe until spring, as well as his other mothers of love and immortality, Freyja and Idunn. [ Pulling a face, Loki nods to where Thor is having a merry time dancing with Sif. ] The version of my brother who fell through the portal is not really very similar to the man I grew up with, but I think he appreciates this tradition all the same.

As well as the ale that comes with it, I suppose, and therein lies the similarity I seek. Hah!

( Dany plucks several morsels from the plate, and contents herself to eat slowly while they watch the dancing and feasting below. Her violet eyes are every watchful for Jon's arrival, but he must still be working late or on his way. No matter. Leaning back, she peers sidelong at Loki, listening to her explanation of the occasion and traditions which come hand in hand with it.

Strange, foreign — but then not so, at all. The sacrifice would likely put off others from her world far more than herself, though it all seems moot after she's feasted on the raw heart of a stallion. )

These dead you speak of — do they rise again, and take up arms against the living? ( She swallows another bite, the flickering amber of the firelight dancing in her eyes, and Loki's too. She doesn't smile, and says simply: ) In my country, they do. Jon and I intend to stop them.

But the rest is a little familiar to me, if not entirely. Thank you for explaining it all. I will take care to remember for next year, should you and I both still find ourselves here.

( To watch Thor, a small smile at last crosses her face. ) It's good to see him finding some joy here. He's been kind to me. Is it at all awkward?

( Thor being a "different" Thor, a concept which has her mind reeling. )

You're fighting zombies? [ whAT IS HAPPENING IN THAT TV SHOW. ] Ah, as for Thor ... No, it isn't awkward. He knows I'm not really his sibling and vice-versa, it's more like having extended family.

[ Her own brother is way more violent, as of late. The ghost of a broken arm aches and Loki rubs it casually, quirking her chin at Dany for more deets on the Walking Ye Older Dead situation. ]

Gyda had spent most of the day helping to get the place set up. She couldn't do much of course, most of the labor requiring someone taller and stronger than herself, but she was able to arrange cuttlery, plates and drinking horns. Hospitality was serious with the Norse and she would've been seen as lazy if she'd done nothing.

Currently, she'd been watching the dancers when her eye caught the young woman with silver hair-and the dragon on her shoulder. If that wasn't enough, she actually saw her brushing her hand over the flames, not like her father or uncle would by just quickly skimming along a small candle flame, but actually like she was caressing the fires with the back of her hand.

That was all enough for her to walk over. The woman must've guessed for the expression on her face, because she answered her unspoken question; blood of the dragon. "Are you a relation to the god Loki?"

The god of fire and father of the world serpant-how else would that explain her not being burned. True, the dragon at her shoulder was no winged serpant, but there was nothing to say winged dragons didn't exist. Everyone knew that some gods traveled in human form after all.

Edited 2017-12-12 03:50 (UTC)

Something in her softens when she notes that a little girl had been the one to question her. Softens and contracts painfully at her breast, the longing she's had for a little girl of her own at the fore of her mind. With most, she can be prickly, blunt and quick to anger. But not with Jon. Nor with children; and it has always been that way, no matter if they were orphan or slave or common.

Her expression gentles, and she shakes her head slowly. "Not at all. I descend from dragonlords, rulers of a vast kingdom. Their ancestors had been of a people who ruled an even greater empire still."

Viserion trills softly, taking wing to hover in midair between Dany and the child, and from the ease which she exhibits, it's clear that she trusts that the dragon will bring no harm to her. He raises his nose to the air to take in her scent, and then trills again.

A small smile crosses Dany's face. "Are you, though?"

Edited 2017-12-12 11:43 (UTC)

In her world, dragons were always crafty and quick to anger; she wondered what sort of lords these were that they were connected to them. The dragon with her is a small one, and clearly safe enough to be around when not angry (as opposed to Fefnir who was said to breath out poison).

She returned the small smile, a glint in her eye. "In a sense. My father is descended from the god Odin, who is blood brother to Loki. In our world, he is the god of fire and mischief, and one of his children is the world serpent jormungardr."

Seeing her play with fire as she did, the woman would have to excuse why she made such a connection.

"I think I know who you speak of," She replies after a moment, and bends her arm for Viserion to perch on while he indulges his curiosity in the little girl. Not so little, though, is she? Nearly a woman grown, now that she's closer to them. The man she'd met on the riverbank during Hygge is her father, then.

"So you're the cousin of a dragon? Not so terrible a thing, you know; they're loyal and protective."

Now that she's better aware as to why she'd jumped to that conclusion, Dany tilts her head, a small smile on her face.

"Sometimes, members of my family were born immune to fire, like me. It's never harmed me."

She actually never considered it, and said so to her. "Odin is our more direct ancestor, and father identifies strong with him." Loki..no one really spoke of him. They didn't ignore or insult him of course, but the trickster god was one to be careful around.

"What's your name?" She was half tempted to call her 'Dragonsdottir', but she didn't wish to assume; yet, a talent of that sort wasn't to be overlooked or ignored. If she didn't have some name related to being immune to fire, Gyda felt she should give her one.

Humming a little beneath her breath, she considers the little girl for a moment, and then responds with a small smile:

"Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. And you?" Viserion trills at her side, leaning forward to sniff the girl's cheek, exhaling hot breath to fan her hair a little. His bronze eyes hold Gyda's for what may feel like a long while, and then he curves back, pillowing himself in the crook of Dany's arm once again.

"It seems he approves well-enough."

Such ways of naming someone wasn't uncommon, and such a name could only given to someone under dire-circumstances or a sort of tragedy. Yet, she also didn't know the woman well enough to ask.

"Gyda Ragnarsdottir, of Kattegat. My father is earl of the village." She wondered if Daenerys knew of either her father or brother.

Her attention is turned to the dragon. "I mean so harm, so I'll take that as reassurance."

The dragon's breath was hot, but not venomous as the legends said. Carefully, she reached forward, holding her hand just a few inches away, but no further.

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The Yule Log

Daenerys Targaryen • OTA

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i'm so sorry for how late this is - holidays + moving making things hectic

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flails sorry, completely missed this tag

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The Yule Log

Daenerys Targaryen • OTA

ii.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

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no subject

no subject

no subject

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i'm so sorry for how late this is - holidays + moving making things hectic

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i

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*flails* sorry, completely missed this tag

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flails sorry, completely missed this tag