If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks...
It's customary to have a Wake after the subject thereof dies. Even Loki knows that. But this is a special occasion. Ego-death is coming to his alternate, and the idea of letting him go off to perish alone, uncertain he will even be mourned, is too dark a proposition even for a flawed and callous person to contemplate.
That, and this Loki has been in a melancholy mood since speaking to the spirit of Frigga. He anticipates a dark choice of his own, sooner or later, and where the fates will send him after that, he can't know. Maybe oblivion, although even at that rate there may be worse places.
What's important right now is that no one dies unremembered. And honestly, any excuse formischief a party. The first text rolls out to Harley, an innocent enough invitation to join them for milkshakes. Cricket is next, because it occurs to him that Cricket has plenty of liquor, which is good for a reckless celebration.
Things snowball from there.
As long as they don't destroy too much property, they'll call the night a success.
That, and this Loki has been in a melancholy mood since speaking to the spirit of Frigga. He anticipates a dark choice of his own, sooner or later, and where the fates will send him after that, he can't know. Maybe oblivion, although even at that rate there may be worse places.
What's important right now is that no one dies unremembered. And honestly, any excuse for
Things snowball from there.
As long as they don't destroy too much property, they'll call the night a success.
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"Hey, can you still feel your face?" If the answer is yes, guess who's sliding Azwel another drink?
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At some point, he'd removed the gauntlets and hung them from his belt, which is a good thing, as he'd probably put his own eye out if he'd been wearing them right now as he pats his own face a couple times.
"Yes. Yes, I can."
Another drink? He won't say no! "Ah, and here's the solution!"
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"Definitely need more drinks I can still feel your face too!"
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He doesn't mind this in the slightest. In fact, he nods with the kind of mock solemnity one can only see in a drunk person.
"Indeed. It's entirely far too... there. More drink is required!"
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"Your beard is incredible! What magic is this?"
What were they doing? Because the trickster is entirely caught up in petting the man's beard at the moment. It's entirely possible that this might be morphing to a beard-braiding session but it's up in the air.
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"I'd never thought to try using magick to groom it," Azwel chortles. "Thank you, though. I grew it myself!"
Oh, boy. We're getting into nonsense answers, now.
His beard is already braided, but there's nothing stopping anyone undoing it and braiding it up again differently. As long as drinking is not impeded. Because there's new things to try, like something called 'Scumble...'