asgardcoda | MINGLE LOG: WEEK ONE

Entry tags:

!mingle,
!week one

MINGLE LOG: WEEK ONE

Who: Everyone!
What: The MINGLE LOG for Week One of the Asgard Eventide Reunion!
When: March 1-7
Where: Anywhere in town!
Rating: PG-13 tops! Anything higher than that should be taken to a private log, please.

[ OOC NOTES: Whether you're making a return to the city or this is your first time setting foot into Asgard, the gods and Natives alike sure are happy to see you. This is a catch-all mingle log for Week One! Please check HERE for a run-down on what's cookin' this week. You can feel free to make your own headers, create your own events, or post your own logs elsewhere as you please. Please put [OPEN/CLOSED] along with the time/location of your character in the title of your comment.

As a note: we were super fortunate to have a few of our old NPC handlers volunteer to pick up their old Gods for the reunion! We currently have Hel, Heimdall, Baldr, Thor, Freyr, Mimir, Honir, Asgard!Loki, and also Frigg available for threading. If you'd like to request an appearance from one of these kids, please say so in the title of your comment. Some of us may make our own top-level as well, so be on the lookout for that! A million thanks to our NPC team for being so fantastic, we love and appreciate you so much.

Don't forget to check out the IC Inbox Mingle and the Network Post Mingle in the network comm! Let us know if you have any questions! ]

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There was something at the corner of his eye- but surely- no. It must have been the blow on his head altering his vision. He carefully touched the wound to make sure it wasn't still bleeding.

Maybe he was tired and just needed to sit down and rest. It must have been the shock of being in entirely new place after the last thing he remembered. Yet- there was another glimpse and he was finding it difficult to convince himself that it was just something he was imagining.

He finally turned around to meet his father's gaze directly. He had hoped that the glimpses were not his mind playing tricks on him but it was another thing to be confronted by him so directly.

"FATHER!" Fingon didn't care who looked at him as he flung himself into his father's arms with little dignity. He couldn't say anything for a moment as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Fingolfin was solid and real, he was truly here.

The touch had his eyes narrow a little, thoughtful. He hadn't thought his son had been injured. Had it happened here? No. He was sure he'd have heard fighting. But Fingon moved well, confident and comfortable as he should. Forever curious - that was his eldest son all over.

Fingolfin set that aside when Fingon finally turned to meet his gaze, watching the change of expression. Only reflex honed by fatherhood had his arms wrap firmly around Fingon, gathering him close for a tight embrace.

A hand smoothed over his son's hair but he pulled back after a moment, though kept an arm around the smaller elf's waist. "You should not be wounded." A feather-light touch to Fingon's head-wound, pale eyes fixed on his son's.

"It's nothing!" Fingon didn't have the heart to tell his father anything just yet. Fingolfin was alive and Fingon was hugging him, that was all that mattered. "I'm alright- but-"

He pulled back a little bit but his father was alive and well. Fingon had cried when the bloody banner had been brought back to him, the grief making him feel as if his heart would burst into a million pieces.

He had barely any time to allow himself to grieve before he was crowded and the duties of High King placed on his shoulders.

"You're alive," he said softly before hugging his father tightly once more.

His strong son. Pride shone in Fingolfin's eyes and he brushed an affectionate kiss to the top of his son's head. "Your wounds were tended just as mine were." To the point he, at least, was fully functional again. But how badly had Fingon been wounded? He didn't like the sound of that hesitation.

There was something...

Wrong.

But then his child was hugging him again and he could do nothing but return the embrace, answering that soft statement just as quietly. "Though I should be in the Halls. I heard the Call, then woke here."

"But you're here and it's alright," Fingon couldn't a tear from falling down his cheek. He had borne the burden of being High King because he didn't want to fail his father or his people. He didn't have the courage to tell Fingolfin how short his reign was and what a failure it had been. Fingolfin would only be disappointed in him.

"Please don't go again," he said a little desperately. "I can't be King anymore," he confessed as he pressed his face against his father's chest. "I'm not meant to wear the crown."

So little faith, Findekano!

He was quick to gently brush the tear away, concern and dread growing the more Fingon spoke. Fingolfin took his son's face in both hands, tilting it back up and cradling it - firm, unyielding, but careful to do no harm.

"You never should have had to wear it, though our people could do worse." People called his first born weak, too young to hold any responsibility. Oh, he knew what his own family said about Fingon - his half brother, his nephews. But he knew better. "You have proven yourself to me many times."

A kiss to Fingon's forehead again. "I cannot promise to not leave again, but while we remain here I will not stray from your side."

"I have?" That made more tears well up in his eyes. Fingon didn't feel brave or worthy. "Father-"

He trailed off as he looked away. "I am pretty sure I died. There was a battle and I wasn't strong enough. I felt the blow on my head and then there was darkness. I didn't rule a long time and while I did, I couldn't hold off Morgoth," he said in a rush, unable to look at Fingolfin.

"Everyone was right. I was useless," he said softly as he let go of his father.

His lips thinned, fury sparking through him as his son spoke. Of failure, of being useless. Fingolfin drew himself up, reaching to turn Fingon's face back up to him.

"I barely succeeded in wounding Morgoth. In doing so I died. I cannot ask for any better from you, and any who try are fools who do not know your strength." Though it didn't help that Fingon himself didn't seem to know it either.

"I don't feel strong." Fingon looked up at Fingolfin, tears shining in his eyes. His father was always so strong and brave- sometimes Fingon felt as if he could never measure up.

"You were always so brave and fearless. You were a great king," he said as he hugged his father. He felt like a child again clinging to his father for comfort.

Brushing thumbs over his son's cheeks again, Fingolfin chuffed lightly at him. "You are stronger than you know." He wrapped his arms back around Fingon, hugging him close and dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

This was his eldest. Any who judged them unkindly for their affection were fools and had never had the joy of being a parent. "I did what I had to for our people and our family."

"I know." He wanted to ask his father why he had gone after Morgoth by himself like that and left him alone to be King. He was proud of his father for his bravery though.

"I missed you so much. I- I don't like being king," he admitted. "I don't want to disappoint our people- I hope I didn't," he said softly as he hugged his father tightly.

Because there had been the chance, and he'd felt he'd had to take it. It had just not worked out, and for that, he knew he had a lot to make up to his son. He'd spend that time here, where there was time.

Fingolfin tugged on a lock of his son's hair, but didn't push him away. He wouldn't ever push Fingon away. "Calm yourself. I have every confidence in you and your leadership skills."

Fingon looked up at his father, feeling reassured. His father was a calming presence- when he wasn't angered that is. He had never felt that anger directed on him and he wanted to be strong so Fingolfin wouldn't be disappointed in him.

"Are you alright? Are you hungry or want something to drink?" he asked with concern, still not letting go.

Fingon had never deserved his anger. Fingolfin gave him an approving smile with the response. Such a good son. "We should both eat." Battle would do that to anyone. "Have you found anything that looks good?" Knowing his son, Fingon had already found the best morsels to eat!

"I found some cakes which looked good," Fingon said cheerfully as he reached out to take his father's arm to lead him through the crowd. At least Fingolfin knew that Fingon had a weakness for sweets.

He didn't let go of Fingolfin's arm though, not once.

There was a fond little chuckle and he let his son take his arm and drag him off. Fingolfin didn't try to tug free, content for Fingon to take the lead.

"Have you come upon any other familiar faces here?"

"Maitimo and Maglor are here as well." If Fingon flushed he would claim it was the heat from the crowd. He wouldn't tell his father just how his reunion with his older cousin went.

"They are doing well- I know they will be happy to see you" he said quickly with a bright smile as he grabbed a plate to start selecting cakes for his father.

Hm. Fingolfin noted the flush, and the names that went with it. He could guess, knowing just how close his son was with those two.

"I will have to find them later. Check on them." Because he was still their uncle. And his amusement just grew as Fingon filled a plate of cakes for him, to the point he chuckled fondly and tugged lightly on a lock of hair. "Keep some for yourself and others!"

"I know they will be grateful for you being here." At least Fingolfin was somewhat reasonable.

Fingon piled the plate high before handing it to his father. He ten grabbed a plate for himself to pile just as high, selecting colorful cakes.

His son was ridiculous. Adorable. Precious. Strong and resilient.

But so utterly ridiculous when it came to food.

Fingolfin just took the plate offered to him, lips still twitching in an attempt to suppress mirth. "Are you certain that is enough?" So innocent.

Mighty elf kings here.

Fingon frowned thoughtfully as he looked at the plate. He slowly selected a couple more cakes to place on Fingolfin's plate and one for himself.

"There, now we're good!" he said as he guided his father over to find somewhere to sit and eat.

He may be High King but that didn't mean he didn't love his cake.

Oh Eru, Fingon was too much! It was about all Fingolfin could do to restrain his laugh.

Instead he held his plate still then followed his son to where Fingon decided was fit for them to eat. Loving cake was perfectly acceptable. And if that was what his eldest child wanted to eat, far be it for him to deny him!

"Are you happy?"

Fingon paused at that question, looking thoughtful as he put the cake he had picked up down on his plate.

"I am happy here," he said in all honesty after a moment. Maitimo was here, as was Maglor. Now he had his father and it was all he could hope for.

"I'm going to try not to think about the last memories I have of where I cam from though. If I dwell on that, I would only make myself miserable."

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MINGLE LOG: WEEK ONE

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