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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[ It takes a little while before Uther realises what the man is saying, and another one to understand that it's directed at him. Kindness from strangers isn't what he's come to expect, because what he expects of common folk is either bribery or ... well, murder attempts.

But that doesn't stop him from latching onto this, and does follow Roland, making note somewhere in the back of his mind of the way the man doesn't have to push his way through the crowd. Quite a commanding presence, for not looking like anyone special. ]

Away. Out of the crowd.

[ His voice feels nearly as weak as the rest of him. He really needs a moment. Or several. ]

[Roland nods and makes his way outward, trying to map the city as it is now to the city as it was then, the last time he was kept here. It isn't so close as he'd like. Not particularly surprising, but not particularly useful, either.]

Hm. That bar over there. Its crowd will be thick, but go to its storage rooms. I'll make sure they let you in. Unless you're up to climbing onto rooftops?

[It's an honest question. Few other places in the whole of the city will be so empty as the top of a roof, right now.]

Edited (icon) 2016-03-04 23:24 (UTC)

I don't think this body of mine is up for climbing any rooftops.

[ A storage room doesn't sound very glamorous, but he'll take anything he can get. King or not. ]

[Roland nods and leads the way, makes a brief stop to talk to the bartender - coin from his world is still coin, after all, and worth the guarantee that they won't be bothered - and slips into the room, sitting on a barrel next to the door. Glamorous it isn't, it's dusty and small, but there's no one else here, and that is, so far as Roland is concerned, all he needed it to be.]

This might be the furthest from this crowd you're going to get, at least without going up. Is it what you were looking for?

[Because, though Roland watches him closely, Roland won't come out and ask why he'd needed to get away in the first place. Not that he isn't curious, in a vague, dim sort of way, but the man'll tell what he tells. Anything more is none of Roland's business.]

[ It's quiet. Quiet, and cool, but the noise from outside still filters through, and the dust in his nose makes him well aware that he is alive. Somehow.

He takes a breath, and closes his eyes for a moment. ]

It will do.

[ A pause. ]

Thank you.

[Roland doesn't leave, but he does sit there in silence for a while. He listens to the crowd outside, looks up at the ceiling, and his mind is clear. Out of the corner of his eye he watches the other man's face, and once it seems a little clear, too, he decides to speak.]

This'll do for now, but if you're going to need a place to escape to again you'll need more coin to get it.

[Again, Roland's expression is doing more of the questioning than his actual words. But whether the man decides to explain anything or not, it's a fact he'll need to know, regardless.]

[ Even if temporary, Uther appreciates the silence. It gives him time to sort through the memories of Asgard that have flooded in, and to not crumble once more under the grief that had practically consumed him back home. This is not an easy feat, because through Asgard he can see what could have been.

Better things, even if not perfect.

And the fact that he can't do anything about it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Did he have to be taught that lesson somewhere he couldn't bring it with him? ]

No. I don't intend to go quite so far. I only need a moment.

Then you'll have it. I've bought you a quarter of an hour of privacy, at least.

[Roland, not a man prone to long or elaborate goodbyes, only nods at the man whose name he doesn't know, then stands and slips out. He doesn't think so much about the man later. Roland's more concerned with going over memories of his own, rolling himself a cigarette while he watches people dance, looking out for familiar faces and finding very few. Other than the gods themselves, so far he has found none. That they brought him back here, but brought him here alone - well, nevermind it. He is here, all the worlds are safe, and if there is any danger in this place at all it only comes from those who've had too much drink. That is all he needs to be concerned with.]

[Well, that, and Asgard's own uniquely annoying brand of magic, powerful enough to be unavoidable, harmless enough that it never becomes anything truly exciting. There is a time in this long, city-wide party in which Roland is pretty concerned with that, can be found trying to shake a lantern off his hand, frowning down at it, looking annoyed. There is a name on it, and it is a name no one around him recognizes. He may be well used to compensating for his left hand and those first two fingers it's missing, but his right is still the one he counts on and it's got some ridiculous god's idea of a joke stuck to it.]

Forgot what a damned pain in the ass this place was.

[Roland mutters it to himself, giving his right hand another quick, irritated shake. The longer this goes on the more aware he is of the fact that his right is the only hand that can hold the gun hanging from his side. He doesn't need to reach his left over to brush what fingers are left on it against the gun's handle, but he does it anyway.]

[ Uther didn't mind Roland's presence, but he certainly appreciates being left entirely alone. A quarter of an hour ends up a very accurate prediction, but at least he feels a little more put together by the time his privacy is invaded.

Still, it means that when he returns to the festival, he can actually enjoy it somewhat. Or, at least, he can smile and accept offers of food and drink. He really does wish, however, that he could have been left in peace. Left to rest in peace, if you will.

When he spots Roland, though, he takes the chance to excuse himself from a group of natives, and is somewhat puzzled by how troubled Roland looks by a lantern. A lantern that ...

Ah.

It appears to be stuck.

It's with mild amusement that he stops in front of Roland, looking him over. ]

Is something the matter?

[Roland does not need to grunt to get his irritation across, the look on his face does that for him and very well, but he grunts anyway. Roland comes across people in his travels sometimes, many different people from many different places, and nearly all of them think they need to point out what's right there in front of their faces. He has never understood it, and has never tried to. Oh, it seems it's that man from earlier asking the question. Stranger, this changes nothing. Roland may recognize you, but your question is no less ridiculous.]

Magic. Pranks. Having my one working hand taken up with this, am I meant to be laughing?

[Sometimes Roland knows the answer to that question. Usually, he doesn't. This time is one of the latter.]

What do you know about magic?

[ What a complicated question.

He isn't sure it's a good idea to say he's spent the bigger part of his life fighting it. How he's spent the bigger part of his life thinking he knew everything there is to know about magic, when it seems he was wrong about that too. His history with magic is long and complicated, and he's only confident in saying he's starting to understand it, thanks to his time in Asgard.

It doesn't seem necessary to say all that, but it does rather complicate how exactly he should phrase his answer. ]

I am ... familiar with it.

[ Nailed it. ]

[Roland's irritation changes smoothly into interest, raised eyebrows, because he knows a thing or two about stories and thinks he recognizes one here, thinks he sees the man chewing on some kind of story and talking very carefully around it. He isn't going to pretend he didn't notice that hesitation, but neither does he pry into it. Roland has more pressing problems.]

Familiar enough to break this damned joke of a curse? I've broken a few in my time but Asgard's magic is...

[He sighs, not really thinking about whether he's overreacting. Of course he's not. His hands have been fucked over enough as it is.]

It doesn't always work by the same rules I was taught as a boy. I expect whoever's name this is has something to do with it, but finding one stranger in a city full of drunken celebration is going to be a trick. I don't suppose...?

[He holds the thing out to display the name written on it, one Roland does not recognize. He does not, after all, know this man's name. He might get lucky.]

[ Oh, is there a name? Seems like that should have to do with it, indeed.

He leans in a little, and his eyebrows raise in recognition as he reads the name. Look at that. So it is. ]

Now what are the odds of that, I wonder? I happen to be Uther Pendragon.

[ But he doesn't grab it right away and straightens instead, with a pause. ]

Though I wouldn't say I'm keen to grab it.

[ He will. Likely it won't be bad. But he's still mildly uncertain about the whole situation. ]

[Roland's grunt is almost affable this time, forgiving. Being wary of Asgard's bullshit, with that he can sympathize.]

Don't blame you. Being pulled back into this place's been hard on you already, hm? I don't imagine Asgard's tricks will make that load any lighter.

Roland Deschain.

[He holds out his free hand. Without those first two fingers it might not be the easiest to shake, but unless Uther wants to free Roland's other one, it's what he gets.]

Well met, sai Pendragon. Well enough, anyway. Don't recall seeing you when I lived here last. Which god housed you while you were here?

[ That's fine, Uther will accept that one. He shakes it, and is just about to grab the lantern despite what he said when Roland's question distracts him.

It feels so long ago, it takes a while for him to recall. ]

Hel, I believe.

Perhaps I am from before your time. I do not recognise you either.

[ And in the end, he took care to be familiar with all faces, if he could. ]

Hm. I didn't know very many, here, so I'll take your word on it.

[Since this is a party, a city at peace with no pressing need to do anything but talk, Roland lets himself ask after the man's name.]

Uther. Most fathers in my world would rather name their sons after Arthur himself than his father. I wonder whether those old legends in your world are anything like those in mine.

(ooc: I'm not sure if this counts as fourth walling, and if so I'm not sure of your opinion on that, so I can edit this and have Roland say something else if that would work better.)

((OOC: He already knows he's part of a legend and stuff, so no worries, but thanks for checking!))

I would not know if they are at all alike.

But Arthur always were a greater man than I am.

[ All right, there's not really any point in letting someone who treated him kindly stand there with a lantern with his name on it, he supposes. So after saying that, he reaches out and frees Roland of the burden. There's a blinding light, and he shuts his eyes for several seconds after it's diminished, before he opens it to find a small doll of Morgana in his hand.

Oh.

Well. Seems harmless, so far. ]

Edited 2016-04-27 18:01 (UTC)

[The magic gives Roland time to work through the words and, once the light has faded, most - not all, but most - of his surprise has passed. He glances at the doll and then turns his attention to his hand, looking it over stretching his fingers. No harm done, apparently. Good.]

You know, I feel as if there ought to be some ritual for a man meeting some world's version of his own long-dead forefathers. If there is, my tutor missed out on teaching it. Oh, the stories you must have in you to tell.

[But there are practicalities at hand here. Roland nods at them. That is, at the doll.]

Is that more magic, do you think? Another harmless prank, or something we ought to be concerned over?

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MINGLE LOG: WEEK ONE

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