riverviewlogs | 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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Okay, that's a lot of information, but not so wacky that she can't keep thread of it. She wrinkles her nose.]

Who says I'm from Asgard? I could be one of these Norse crazy people. Vikings.

[ Have a flat look, Val. ]

As likely as you make that sound, I doubt a mortal could take hold of me and stop me in my tracks.

[She shrugs, glancing away.]

Fair enough. Anyway, I met Loki away from Asgard, as it happens.

What were you both getting up to? A whirlwind romance in Alfheim? Steamy adventures in Muspelheim?

[ It really is fun to see how much it takes to irritate her. ]

[She fakes a gag into her mug of ale.]

Hardly. More like stealing spaceships on Sakaar. A healthy amount of attempted betrayal.

Well, the key word being 'attempted', mixed with your lack of intense ire, I'd say you got on fine. No?

[ Do tell, otherwise. ]

Fine enough. I only had to tie him up the once. And we ended up on the same side, in the end.

[And here? Here, they've been amiable enough. It's been fine.]

[ These are some of the waggliest brows in the Multiverse as Loki sips his ale. He's not saying anything. ]

[Her eye roll is good natured, but she is smirking just a tiny bit.]

If that's what you want to think, go ahead.

Why are you over here chatting shit with me when you could be taking that fair maiden a drink? I'm sure he'd accept.

I'll pass, thanks. You seem keen for him and I to be a thing, don't you?

I encourage happiness and love at every opportunity.

[ Yeah, it may be best to watch this one. ]

Uh-huh.

[She drains the rest of her mug of ale, and lets it thunk to the ground. She can get another one if she wants it.]

And I'm Freyja.

Actually, Freyja's in a tank in my bedroom.

[ The straightest of faces as he downs his ale, tossing it over a shoulder. ]

...I'm sorry, what?

[Okay, you got her attention.]

My pet viper, her namesake was my dear old mother.

[ But he did enjoy the look on Val's face just then, hah. ]

Oh. So not her rotting corpse. Good to know.

[Dick.]

No, ah. Oh. I forgot she'd died in your universe. [ One of the only times she may hear him say this, and only because he can see the bad taste in his joke, ] Sorry.

[She shrugs, but there's less indifference in her expression—and maybe a tinge of appreciation.]

She wasn't my mother. But thanks.

All-Mother, mother to all ...

Anyway! This is miserable behaviour for a party, [ refusing to be sad, wow, ] won't you come and dance? Or we could stuff our faces with food, and you could maybe tell me your whole name. Real or fake.

I've been gone from Asgard a long time.

[That doesn't mean there isn't a tiny lump starting to form in her throat. She's grateful for the change in subject.]

You're right. But food, not dancing. I'm starved.

[ Leading them to a table groaning with dishes, he picks up a wooden bowl and starts peppering the contents with cheeses and meats, bits of fruit as he browses. ]

How long has it been since you were home?

[She follows and does the same, loading down her bowl with a hearty bit of everything and talking as she goes, glancing up at him every now and then.]

Long enough that I stopped counting...long enough to pretend it didn't matter, anymore.

Where is Sakaar? I've never heard of such a place.

[ He tosses a grape in her bowl to ensure she doesn't get scurvy. ]

It's...

[How to explain this?]

It's a garbage planet. Everything that gets lost in space, everything that gets sucked into a wormhole or a black hole, ends up there.

[In return, she chucks a chicken leg into his. Protein!]

(no subject)

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