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

[There's no love in the kiss, but Ivar would be damned if he doesn't feel a little bit of passion. Dodger knows just how to heat up his blood and the pain of having his lip bit helps to focus the Viking's attention. He leans his head back, hand moving over the other scars on Dodger's face. They're like two dogs fighting for the same bone, each one taking it in turn.

Then he pulls out a knife, using it for a moment to trace the cold tip across the bits of skin he can find, for Ivar can see the blood pulsating beneath the surface, just begging to be let out. He turns Dodger's right hand upwards. With a quick flick of his wrist, he's cut a thin but deep line across Dodger's palm. As blood wells to the surface, Ivar lets his fingertips soak in the stuff. Then he traces strange, archaic patterns across Dodger's bandaged arms, neck, and face.]

You know, I think you were born too late. You would make a decent Viking.

[Normally the knife would offend him, but in his current state he just watches with curiosity as his blood drips from his hand. And as Ivar starts to trace patterns with it, he just closes his eyes and basks in the feeling of the touch. God, he loves the smell of blood - it makes him feel alive, and tethered to the world around him.]

Decent, huh. [He mumbles, tightening his hand into a fist to feel his broken skin sting in protest.] You'd make a half-decent gangster... if you figured out how to respect your elders.

[There's a pause before he adds:] You smell fucking amazing.

[He traces a rune onto Dodger's forehead, ᚲ, Kaunan, the rune that means mortality and pain. It seems fitting after the year they've had with one another. After he's done, he licks the last bit of blood off his fingers. It's not the first time Ivar's drank human blood, but it's always a heady experience. He can taste the acute difference between it and animal blood.] I'll respect you when you actually deserve it.

Do I? [He leans in, breath hot on Dodger's ear. For a moment, it's unclear what he's planning to do, perhaps maybe kiss him again. Then he bites down hard on the top part of the shell of his ear.]

[There's something absolutely intoxicating about watching the blood on Ivar's tongue. Even more so knowing it's his own blood - it brings him right back to the days he spent in a haze of drugs and sex, worshiping with the followers of Arzial.

The bite to his ear barely registers as pain, and he just lets out a hiss before his hand grips Ivar's throat and shoves him off. And rather than try to create distance, he instead rolls over to pin him onto the ground, shifting his hand just enough to be able to bite down on his neck like a vampire going in to feed. Just as rough, just as intent on drawing blood.]

[The positions are suddenly reversed as Dodger pins him down. Ivar's eyes narrow, and were he not in such a pleasant haze, he'd be more inclined to be fighting back in a much more brutal manner. There's a growl that comes out of his throat as Dodger bites down hard to break the skin.

His free hands finds its way under Dodger's shirt and he rakes his nails across the skin of Dodger's skin. The other, still holding a knife, brings it up to Dodger's arm, cutting another line across his forearm. As in all things between them, Ivar always gives it as good as it gets.]

[There's a sick grin on Dodger's face as he leans back, pausing to run his tongue over the gash Ivar's opened on his arm. Tasting blood - both their blood, tasting the subtle differences between them - has his skin on fire, in such euphoric bliss he wouldn't be able to describe it if he tried. A moment later he shifts, grabbing Ivar's wrists and moving his body weigh to keep him from moving, and pressing harsh kisses to the kid's lips.

It's only once he's satisfied with tasting him that he rolls off entirely, panting from going so long without taking a breath, eyes still clouded with a mix of excitement and psychedelics.]

[He can feel the firm pressure of Dodger's lips against his, the man's rough stubble scraping against his cheeks. When he finally rolls off, Ivar lies there for a moment, a look of contented bliss on his face. Though he'll hate himself if he can even remember half of what they just got up to in the morning, right now, Ivar's pretty damn satisfied.

He eventually sits back up. They're right by a table and Ivar crawls over, pulling down two mugs that are still partially filled with ale. He offers one to his longtime enemy.]

Happy Yule, Dodger. [He adds on a blessing in Old Norse.] Má mér at þinn ár geta sæla en fullr af margr malm-þing.

[May your year be prosperous and filled with many battles.]

[The words mean nothing to him, but he grunts in appreciation as he takes the mug and mutters the one word he knows in norse:] Skol.

[Terribly pronounced, but the intention is what matters. What a strange relationship they've ended up with... one where Dodger has to admit to himself that actually killing the kid would leave an empty hole in his life. He could almost consider him a friend; someone who's always there with an offer of expending energy and getting that sick satisfaction of blood on his hands.]

Hey - I want you to promise you won't get yourself killed before I get the chance. Yeah?

[He snickers at Dodger's pronunciation. A for effort, mongrel. Ivar licks his lips, barely able to stay upright now. He blinks at Dodger, wondering if he's hearing correctly, or if this is some hallucination. He takes in a deep draught of ale and then sets the mug down on the ground.]

That's not going to be my fate. I've yet to do all that I want and what I'm supposed to.

[Fate was a big deal for Vikings. They believed you couldn't fight what was to come. But for those like Ivar, it was a sign of hope as well. The fact he was alive right now after so many years of hardship meant that the gods had a destiny in store for him.]

The Yule Log

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