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coldsongUnder the walls we gnaw like mice
Virtue is unmasked
The hands of the clock betray your vice
They give what none has asked.
For they have burrowed beneath the graves
and found what the good gave most:
Refuse cast by the righteous waves
In fossil, wraith, and ghost.
V. Watkins, Ballad of the Mari Lwyd
Does the Nexus remember the Mari Lwyd, or the four giggling children that led her through the streets last year? This year, she is decked out in even more fantastic ribbons, skull painted with colors and glitter, with a mane of braided greenery over the shroud that hides her puppeteer. Peeping out from the tangles of plaited evergreen are bright loops and shimmering clusters of ice crystals--frost flowers, but enchanted to hold together in a way that this phenomenon never does in its natural state. All in all, the Mari is more grand and glamorous than before; a higher bar is set.
The children, like their horse, are in bright colors and jangling bells, and the girls have multicolored ribbons in their hair. They know exactly what they are doing, after the playful run last season. They sing loudly at the door of each house they approach, demanding to be let in and fed in the name of the Horse of a Thousand Stars. Loki is nowhere to be seen, but surely someone is beneath that colorful shroud, making the head bow, the glass eyes roll, the skeletal jaws snap and dart at any who stray too close.
(It would be rude to peep beneath the cloth, but if you do, you will see nothing but shadow, and hear the echoing laughter of a god.)
Those who are kind enough to let the children in will get chased about in their own homes--in play, of course--and the horse will caper and threaten as before, until Agnarr or Sigrid takes the ribbon bridle in hand and guides her back into the snow. Behind them, the children will leave oranges, apples, nuts, or sprigs of evergreen tied with glittery cords and bows.
Locked-out lepers with haloes come.
Put out the clock; the clock is dumb.
This is, in a way, just a prelude, a warning. A loving parody of the chaos that will ride in the dark nights to come. The Mari is not a tradition of Asgard, but Loki understand the message and the story she tells on a level so deep they may as well be part of his bones. For this one moment in the year, the outcast emerge to claim their own. The lords of misrule oust the righteous, the safe, the comfortable, and take their place for a breath of time. Memento Mori.
In the evening, the children are all bathed and fed and cuddled. Stories are told by the fire as dusk deepens. At length, though, the time for Something Else draws nigh. Loki tucks a sprig of mistletoe behind the ear of each of his little girls, and takes them by the hands. Una is old enough this year.
Transforming as they leave the house for the meadow, Loki stands ghostly-still in a white dress, evergreens wound into her hair. For about half an hour, she sings short kulning calls and cries for the girls, letting them imitate and praising their efforts. Sigrid is very good. Una is excited and eager, but her attention span is more limited, and when she shows signs of wanting to go play in the snow, Loki calls the lesson closed for today. She herself sings the ghostly call that invites the Hunt to her side. And then she kisses the girls on the cheek and sends them inside to sleep.
This is about to be no place for children.
As before, Loki cannot allow herself emotion for this event, in which anyone caught outside is at risk of an unfortunate experience. She casts the same spell as before, with some regret. She will recognize no one except Thor, and whatever actions she takes for the sacredness of the season will be utterly impartial.
When the Odensjakt emerges, there's a crack and roar of air displaced, the skies split to permit thousands of shadowy steeds and riders to emerge. Skurge is at their head, and Loki notes with interest that he's not wearing his plate armor this year, only his leather jerkin and a loose cape. Maybe he no longer feels the need of that visual reminder of his status. He's not an ex-soldier or a failed executioner now, but the shepherd of the dead.
"Will you lead this year?" Loki invites him, leaping lightly onto the back of a spectral, red-eyed horse. "Or shall I?"
He looks deeply flattered, and maybe a little tempted, but he shakes his head. "You lead. I'll bring up the rear and keep the formation together."
It would do no good to say so, but Loki is proud.
Skurge takes his place at the back of the Hunt, and gives a sharp, shrill whistle. Then the onslaught begins, the loud chaotic ride through the darkness. They will enter unguarded buildings and turn things upside down like vandals. They will damage and break things left outside in the roads. Unlucky wanderers (or perhaps, some who seek them out deliberately) will be grabbed by icy hands and tumbled through the night with the wild ride.
They circle the Plaza, turning things upside down, and then they ride out into the Wilds like a storm, screaming into the wind from the sheer joy and adrenaline rush of the Hunt.
When the sky turns watery gray overhead, when the sun creeps toward the horizon, they quiet slowly and break apart like clouds. Skurge stays to the last, sitting up on his horse as Loki stands in the snow beside him, Jotun-shaped, all blue and red and white frost.
"I don't think this is exactly how Odin did it," Loki comments quietly as the sun glints off distant tree-tips. "But it feels right. What do you think?"
"Didn't really know him," Skurge says thoughtfully. "But I'm good with this."
"Until tomorrow night, then," Loki smiles up at him.
"Wouldn't miss it," Skurge gives a cheeky grin, and dissolves into the air, back to Hel.
Loki bows, and sings him a brief farewell, only a few high, crystalline calls. And then he turns toward home, and family, and the warmth of his own hearth.
----
((OOC: So, I am bad at keeping up with things, but this is important, so: same deal as last year.
Please feel free to tag in with your character(s) reaction to any of the above. They can encounter the children, they could hear the sounds of the Hunt, or for a more lol-like experience, they could join or be caught up in the Hunt themselves.
Two things should be noted. First: Loki will not recognize any character except Thor, potentially not even his own alternates. He did that on purpose so his fondness for certain individuals cannot get in the way of what he considers a sacred duty. If you get close to the Hunt, even if you’re on good terms with him and don’t wanna go, you’re coming along. Feel free to yell at him later. He may or may not be remorseful, but probably not.
Second: People who either join the Hunt voluntarily or gain control after being snatched up are essentially invited to participate. Feel free to smash some stuff up, steal food or drink in small amounts, etc. Please assume all vandalized stuff belongs to NPCs not other player characters, unless you have that player's permission! The Hunt’s purpose is not to kill or maim, but to frighten and disrupt. Anyone who gets too personal or otherwise overly enthusiastic risks falling out of synch with the rest of the Hunt. If that happens, the character may be yeeted out of the group and find themselves in a corner of the Plaza or Wilds they didn’t start out in.
For each tag-in, I will respond with at least one prose-heavy tag (maybe more, depending on time or inspiration) detailing what the character is likely to have seen, felt, or experienced in the Hunt or during the visit with the hooden horse. It is also okay with me to handwave that your character observed/got caught up in this, as long as rules of the Nexus comm are respected.
Additionally, if you want some crazy shit that is not Nexus canon, PM me and we can talk it out. I can't promise anything because I'm constantly behind on all my threads these days, but I'm willing to talk it over!))
Virtue is unmasked
The hands of the clock betray your vice
They give what none has asked.
For they have burrowed beneath the graves
and found what the good gave most:
Refuse cast by the righteous waves
In fossil, wraith, and ghost.
V. Watkins, Ballad of the Mari Lwyd
Does the Nexus remember the Mari Lwyd, or the four giggling children that led her through the streets last year? This year, she is decked out in even more fantastic ribbons, skull painted with colors and glitter, with a mane of braided greenery over the shroud that hides her puppeteer. Peeping out from the tangles of plaited evergreen are bright loops and shimmering clusters of ice crystals--frost flowers, but enchanted to hold together in a way that this phenomenon never does in its natural state. All in all, the Mari is more grand and glamorous than before; a higher bar is set.
The children, like their horse, are in bright colors and jangling bells, and the girls have multicolored ribbons in their hair. They know exactly what they are doing, after the playful run last season. They sing loudly at the door of each house they approach, demanding to be let in and fed in the name of the Horse of a Thousand Stars. Loki is nowhere to be seen, but surely someone is beneath that colorful shroud, making the head bow, the glass eyes roll, the skeletal jaws snap and dart at any who stray too close.
(It would be rude to peep beneath the cloth, but if you do, you will see nothing but shadow, and hear the echoing laughter of a god.)
Those who are kind enough to let the children in will get chased about in their own homes--in play, of course--and the horse will caper and threaten as before, until Agnarr or Sigrid takes the ribbon bridle in hand and guides her back into the snow. Behind them, the children will leave oranges, apples, nuts, or sprigs of evergreen tied with glittery cords and bows.
Locked-out lepers with haloes come.
Put out the clock; the clock is dumb.
This is, in a way, just a prelude, a warning. A loving parody of the chaos that will ride in the dark nights to come. The Mari is not a tradition of Asgard, but Loki understand the message and the story she tells on a level so deep they may as well be part of his bones. For this one moment in the year, the outcast emerge to claim their own. The lords of misrule oust the righteous, the safe, the comfortable, and take their place for a breath of time. Memento Mori.
In the evening, the children are all bathed and fed and cuddled. Stories are told by the fire as dusk deepens. At length, though, the time for Something Else draws nigh. Loki tucks a sprig of mistletoe behind the ear of each of his little girls, and takes them by the hands. Una is old enough this year.
Transforming as they leave the house for the meadow, Loki stands ghostly-still in a white dress, evergreens wound into her hair. For about half an hour, she sings short kulning calls and cries for the girls, letting them imitate and praising their efforts. Sigrid is very good. Una is excited and eager, but her attention span is more limited, and when she shows signs of wanting to go play in the snow, Loki calls the lesson closed for today. She herself sings the ghostly call that invites the Hunt to her side. And then she kisses the girls on the cheek and sends them inside to sleep.
This is about to be no place for children.
As before, Loki cannot allow herself emotion for this event, in which anyone caught outside is at risk of an unfortunate experience. She casts the same spell as before, with some regret. She will recognize no one except Thor, and whatever actions she takes for the sacredness of the season will be utterly impartial.
When the Odensjakt emerges, there's a crack and roar of air displaced, the skies split to permit thousands of shadowy steeds and riders to emerge. Skurge is at their head, and Loki notes with interest that he's not wearing his plate armor this year, only his leather jerkin and a loose cape. Maybe he no longer feels the need of that visual reminder of his status. He's not an ex-soldier or a failed executioner now, but the shepherd of the dead.
"Will you lead this year?" Loki invites him, leaping lightly onto the back of a spectral, red-eyed horse. "Or shall I?"
He looks deeply flattered, and maybe a little tempted, but he shakes his head. "You lead. I'll bring up the rear and keep the formation together."
It would do no good to say so, but Loki is proud.
Skurge takes his place at the back of the Hunt, and gives a sharp, shrill whistle. Then the onslaught begins, the loud chaotic ride through the darkness. They will enter unguarded buildings and turn things upside down like vandals. They will damage and break things left outside in the roads. Unlucky wanderers (or perhaps, some who seek them out deliberately) will be grabbed by icy hands and tumbled through the night with the wild ride.
They circle the Plaza, turning things upside down, and then they ride out into the Wilds like a storm, screaming into the wind from the sheer joy and adrenaline rush of the Hunt.
When the sky turns watery gray overhead, when the sun creeps toward the horizon, they quiet slowly and break apart like clouds. Skurge stays to the last, sitting up on his horse as Loki stands in the snow beside him, Jotun-shaped, all blue and red and white frost.
"I don't think this is exactly how Odin did it," Loki comments quietly as the sun glints off distant tree-tips. "But it feels right. What do you think?"
"Didn't really know him," Skurge says thoughtfully. "But I'm good with this."
"Until tomorrow night, then," Loki smiles up at him.
"Wouldn't miss it," Skurge gives a cheeky grin, and dissolves into the air, back to Hel.
Loki bows, and sings him a brief farewell, only a few high, crystalline calls. And then he turns toward home, and family, and the warmth of his own hearth.
----
((OOC: So, I am bad at keeping up with things, but this is important, so: same deal as last year.
Please feel free to tag in with your character(s) reaction to any of the above. They can encounter the children, they could hear the sounds of the Hunt, or for a more lol-like experience, they could join or be caught up in the Hunt themselves.
Two things should be noted. First: Loki will not recognize any character except Thor, potentially not even his own alternates. He did that on purpose so his fondness for certain individuals cannot get in the way of what he considers a sacred duty. If you get close to the Hunt, even if you’re on good terms with him and don’t wanna go, you’re coming along. Feel free to yell at him later. He may or may not be remorseful, but probably not.
Second: People who either join the Hunt voluntarily or gain control after being snatched up are essentially invited to participate. Feel free to smash some stuff up, steal food or drink in small amounts, etc. Please assume all vandalized stuff belongs to NPCs not other player characters, unless you have that player's permission! The Hunt’s purpose is not to kill or maim, but to frighten and disrupt. Anyone who gets too personal or otherwise overly enthusiastic risks falling out of synch with the rest of the Hunt. If that happens, the character may be yeeted out of the group and find themselves in a corner of the Plaza or Wilds they didn’t start out in.
For each tag-in, I will respond with at least one prose-heavy tag (maybe more, depending on time or inspiration) detailing what the character is likely to have seen, felt, or experienced in the Hunt or during the visit with the hooden horse. It is also okay with me to handwave that your character observed/got caught up in this, as long as rules of the Nexus comm are respected.
Additionally, if you want some crazy shit that is not Nexus canon, PM me and we can talk it out. I can't promise anything because I'm constantly behind on all my threads these days, but I'm willing to talk it over!))
(no subject)
Date: 2021-02-12 11:24 pm (UTC)If there's any significance to that, Loki will have to explain, himself. The sound of the heartbeat is surprisingly realistic, considering it's just a children's toy. If Megatron listens for long enough, deeply enough, he might feel the faintest flicker of seidr. It's well-hidden, meant to be hard to uncover, lest someone in his world take notice of the toy, but it's there. An echo; a reminder.
Mrs. Hedgeworthy laughs a little at the apology. "As if I'm not used to a houseful of chaos by now. Still, if you want to bring me something, I wouldn't say no to a nice dry sherry."
(no subject)
Date: 2021-02-13 04:35 pm (UTC)He is tempted to ruffle Una's hair, but not after all the work Mrs Hedgeworthy just did on it.
"Do you have a favourite kind?" he asks Mrs Hedgeworthy. He is definitely going to get her a bottle or five. She is the sort of person, he strongly suspects, whose happiness is contagious if she is kept happy. And this household is a lot of work.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-02-23 02:14 am (UTC)"Maybe you're sweeter than you think," Sigrid giggles softly.
"Oh, goodness." Mrs Hedgeworthy looks almost shy about this question. "Well. Valdespino's Palo Cortado Viejo is my favorite, but anything that's a step up from cooking sherry makes me happy."
(no subject)
Date: 2021-02-23 03:02 am (UTC)"Your father would agree with you," he tells Sigrid. "But your father always sees me in the kindest light possible, for which I'm eternally grateful, and I never want him to stop."
The laughter, as much as the cuddly bear, loosens him up a lot, and he leans back against the wall a little. "Valdespino's Palo Cortado Viejo," he repeats, and saves. "Mrs Hedgeworthy, never forget; the work you do is important. The fact that it constantly needs to be done and redone makes it more so, not less, and while I'm sure my beloved pays you fairly, I also owe you, for I'm going to be around a lot, and I probably have not made your life any easier. Plus, when I'm sailing the stars in the Lost Light, and cannot be here, it does my spark good to know such a good soul is caring for the people I care for and can't be with."