EVENT LOG: HÆIÐRS-MINNI

[asgardmods]

Who: EVERYONE
What: the Hæiðrs-Minni event log
When: November 16
Where: EVERYWHERE
Rating: PG-13; please take anything higher than this to a private log!

morning: the funeral

The morning sun is lost behind clouds that pour in an endless rain, casting the city into a dark and gloomy shadow. The streets of Asgard are almost entirely empty, although hardly a soul can be found indoors either. Everyone is gathered instead at the riverbank on the castle grounds, where a series of boats are tethered along the short and gently tugging with the current. The native Asgardians place gifts, food, and personal belongings into the boats in memory of their lost loved ones.

Whether you've lost someone, were lost yourself, or carry some other loss within you, the natives invite you to place your own offerings in the boats to send off your sorrows together.

Several hours into the morning, once everyone has had their chance to fill the boats, Heimdall gives a short speech honoring those that fell in the recent battle as the boats are let loose down the river. Honir fires an arrow towards the last one to float away, and Odin lights it on fire as it soars overhead, the single arrow splitting into a wave of shooting stars that strike each boat dead center. The boats alight all at once, and even with the rain pouring overhead, they continue to burn as they float gently out of sight, carrying everyone's grief away with them.

all day: the dedication

Throughout the rest of the day, many of Asgard's residents seem to buzz around Firar Samka, the cultural museum in Mimir's district. A new wing has been added to document Asgard's recent triumphs, but most especially to honor the unexpected stalwart allies of the kingdom: you, the Wanderers from other worlds. This display was added to memorialize the lengths you've gone to in the name of protecting and preserving life within the realm, the core purpose of Asgard in its entirety. You are heroes among gods and this exhibit seeks to portray that for all to see.

As you wander through the display, you might see childish drawings of familiar people fighting a massive dragon, or a large painted mural of solemn faces standing off against an army of ghoulish figures. Skadi can be found beside these, sometimes twisting them into eerie motion or placing a new piece somewhere along the halls.

Elsewhere, you can find Njord alone or accompanied by some human skalds as they sing or read poetry or even sometimes reenact part of the battles against the Red Death and the Army of the Dead. Your characters can watch or join, and they might even hear their own names mentioned among the reverence and song. This is the story of Asgard and the Wanderers conquering death, and you're right at the center of it.

evening: the feast

To end the day on a high note, everyone is invited to Nādhirhöll in Tyr's district, where the entire banquet hall has been decked out in so many colors and leaves and lights that it might feel like walking into an overgrown forest tightly held in the grips of a sparkling autumn. With the growing success of the distilleries in Njord's district, vodka and ales are passed around freely alongside the mountains of food available on tables in every room. People dance and sing and lounge around the leaves with laughter and a joyful appreciation of life in the air.

If your character joins the party, they might notice themselves feeling more warm and relaxed over the course of the evening. They might have the unusual inclination to be more physically affectionate with people and vocally declare their appreciation to them. Deep in this glittering "forest," it is easy to feel lost in the warmth and comfort of good company and relative safety.

This party continues into the morning of the next day, something that many may not realize as deeply wrapped in an artificial forest as they may be. The effects of the curse fade as everyone stumbles their way out of Nādhirhöll, leaving a heavy blanket of strangely warm exhaustion behind. It's been a long and potentially emotional day, but the city seems to be brought together under a shared relief and a new tomorrow.

[ OOC NOTES: This is the event log for Hæiðrs-Minni! There are various goings-on throughout the day to acknowledge past strife and be grateful for a projected future. If you have any questions or need any help, please let us know on the mod contact page! ]

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[asgardmods]

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Turgon | OTA

[hikikomori_king]

Mourning

Turgon is familiar with grief - not all that long ago he lost in quick succession sister, father, cousin and then brother, and so many more of his kin are lost or unknown.

Tears Unnumbered shall ye shed had been the prophecy, and it has proven true.

He has not lost anyone here, but his tale of losses is long, and long indeed. In the rain who can tell if the dampness on his cheeks are tears as he kneels at the urging of the natives to place a small white stone, engraven with the sigil of his father's house.

He stands watching as the boats go out and is still there, staring out into the distance as the flames finally flicker out and die.

The Feast

He comes and finds a quiet corner to settle in with a drink and a plate, watching the leaves fall and folk dance with wistful melacholy. As the night wears on, the wistfullness fades and he smiles more. He might even be inclined to hug those he knows well, if they come up to chat.

the feast

[tealeafs]

Perhaps it's a good thing that Chizuru didn't run into him earlier - she may have fussed quite a bit if she had seen him mourning before. Not that she isn't fussing now, mind you, just less so. Him sitting by himself could just be that he likes having some alone time, but it's still a little sad to Chizuru to see someone all alone, let alone someone she recognizes.

So she makes her way through the crowds of people until she ends up where he is sitting, giving Turgon a small smile.

"Good evening." She bows just slightly in greeting. "Do you mind if I join you here for a moment..?"

Morning

[mindseer]

What did she have with her when she got down and put in a 'gift' as well? It looked like a multicolored scarf, one that she'd dyed one color after another, almost like a rainbow. Kind of, on the surface of things, a strange gift to give, but the truth was that it was very fitting.

Everyone she'd lost in her own life? They had a different color to their blood, all the colors in the rainbow. The girl had definitely lost her fair share, even if she'd reach a state of peace. It was a rare, slightly sober moment and for once she only had her blindfold around her shoulders, not her eyes. Glancing over to Turgon, she nodded quietly.

The Feast

[beefaroni]

Hey, teach. Asterios is passing by, mostly to grab more food, when... an attempted hug is made??? He blinks down at Turgon, not quite understanding the gesture. Is he being stopped? Grappled?

"What is it...?"

Cadfael | OTA

[brother_cadfael]

Funeral

Pagan or not Cadfael understood a funeral service when he saw it, and he wasn't about to mock or scorn any ritual for mourning. A part of him was aware of the allowances he was making in this place, but he ignored that in favor of practicality; was he supposed to shut himself off as a hermit, when his skills were able to do a lot of good here. He didn't think so.

Besides, his own experience made him no stranger to death, the patients he was unable to save, or the bodies of those who needed justice delivered to them. He had seen death in all manner of ways-he supposed different sort of funeral was fitting.

His own offering was as humble as himself; a small bottle of wine infused with herbs. Not much to some, but he hoped those in the Afterlife enjoyed it. He watched the boats set off, only partially listening to Heimdal's speech.

Dedication

Grim and solemn as the funeral was, the museum was rather novel, and Cadfael didn't bother covering the curiosity at browsing. Such depictions of battles and events only really happened from stories and poems were he was from. To see them in set pictures or clay was worth observing.

Drawings, murals and stories of the actual battle, he fully expected, and his eye wandered to see who he recognized among the depictions. He didn't expect anyone to depict the infirmary or the weary returning home; everyone wanted the thrill and excitement of battle, no one considered the weariness and blood from afterwards.

True enough, he stopped when he saw what appeared to be a painting of the battle weary returned to the castle. The expressions were well done, not for exact detail, but the shadows drawn to show just how exhausted and weary they were, while others were clearly needing assistence from their injuries.

And in the foreground, much to Cadfael's surprise, was an older man of stocky frame, his arms coated in blood as he tended to fixing someone's injured limb. The man's face was covered in shadow, but he recognized him easily enough.

"They did exaggerate with how messy it was," He said, more to himself than anyone. "The amount of blood on my clothes seems more fit for a battle field surgeon than someone staying on Base."

Funeral

[demonicbeauty]

The whole occasion was just so solemn. Of course, Ariadne understood that many cultures mourned their dead. But she had a hard time keeping a straight face. It wasn't funny. She just wasn't built to brood.

Her heavy cloak and hood helped a little bit.

As for her offering, well, Ariadne didn't have much of any value. She'd drawn some Valerian sigils, representing the goddesses of home. Hopefully, it wouldn't offend. It was meant as an honor, anyway. She folded up the sheet of coarse paper and left it beside Cadfael's offering, before turning to offer him a little curtsy.

She'd grown more comfortable with him, over the last few months. Still cautious, because that was how she'd been taught to regard Humans. But now that she was getting a handle on her own form, she was slowly starting to get comfortable, letting him see her face. Which she did now, pulling back the hood a few inches to let the light fall on her. "It's all very nice. You know. For a funeral."

Dedication

[thequitecontrary]

Mary has never been to a museum about, well... herself. Even if she's not directly mentioned, the farms that she helped set up were depicted in some of the murals on the walls. The reenactments, understandably, were based on the battles rather than the more boring home front.

She ends up watching one with Cadfael, one that is obviously supposed to represent him. Her nose crinkles at the amount of blood in the scene.

"It's... certainly a lot," Mary says to him. "I think gore is rather liberally shown here." The natives in particular are not as civilized as what either she or Cadfael might be used to.

souji okita | ota

[embracethewind]

the funeral;

Between the fog and the heavy rain pouring all over the location, it is somewhat tricky for someone down there to notice a person sitting on a high branch of a nearby tree. The reason only known to him since it has a deep, personal meaning; a bushi must not cry, so it was easier for both Souji and his underling Kamiya to think about the loss of a dear friend or comrade far from the sight of others and up a camphor tree. Well, actually Kamiya's tears were from herself and in his name - a tree that has a crybaby sheding the tears of others - as he recalls saying to her... but Kamiya isn't here to weep for the dead.

Without any offerings to give, he wishes to think that being there is a sort of tribute to those who perished fighting the White Walkers, both natives and wanderers, especially the youngest. His eyes don't tear up, instead, a smile is drawn at the boats that move away towards the horizon. For some people, it could be weird seeing him without worrying that he would fall.

the feast;

With the autumn leaves dancing around like those present who attended the party it is a whimsy for Souji to enjoy, quite fun and full of life with seasonal decorations. Not seeing himself as an inveterate drunkard, it seemed as if he had drunk quite a lot without having a single cup or glass, albeit that didn't matter when he can't take his eyes off the food tables and mostly the available pastries.

If you are close enough, you will see he's in such good spirits than usually ever, having pieces here and there.

funeral

[yiling_laozu]

Wei Wuxian doesn't rise from the lakeshore until he's sure his tears can be mistaken for rain, rubbing his eyes a last time as he turns back to the city proper. He's passing under a tree when something - a sound, perhaps, or a soldier's instinct - causes him to look up. His red eyes widen in surprise - he knows the person seated in the branches. They share a room in Heimdallhaus, though he can't understand why he's up a tree now.

"Okita-gongzi," he calls up. "Come, let's go to the feast."

Feast

[lan_wangji]

Lan Zhan knows this face. This is the other person who lives with Wei Ying. This is the person Wei Ying has spoken of, wants to arrange a dinner with.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, it seems like an excellent idea. Lan Zhan finds himself walking over entirely unprompted, half confused at his actions but nonetheless on this course. He half wonders if he has been drugged.

"Pardon my interruption. I am Lan Wangji of Gusu Lan and Odinhaus. Friend of Wei Wuxian," he says, offering a proper bow.

funeral

[tealeafs]

Chizuru is not the most perceptive person ever. Maybe she can be at times when it comes to seeing people's emotions and the like, but she sure isn't the first one to spot someone hiding up in a tree. That's more Yamazaki's thing, if anything.

But a leaf falling down from the tree and landing right on top of her head does grab her attention. It makes her look up, and that's when she coincidentally manages to spot Souji sitting up there.

At first it's mostly a surprise, but it quickly turns into her wondering if he's sitting up there since he wanted to be by himself for all of this. What was Souji of all people thinking about as they are all watching the boats leave? Was he sad? Or otherwise emotional?

Chizuru can't be sure, and her fussy meddling instincts kick in right away. But as always they're also at odds with her natural inclination to be polite and considerate. Even though she enjoys spending time with this Souji, in the end he's still not the Souji from her own world, and it makes her wonder if it'd go too far to try and approach him now in this possibly vulnerable moment.

So she doesn't attempt to get up there as well - which might be for the better, since it could've ended disasterously.. - and instead stands at the base of the tree. But she's still very visibly staring up at him if he happens to look down.

Wei Wuxian | The Untamed

[yiling_laozu]

prompts below~

funeral

[yiling_laozu]

For a long time, Wei Wuxian observes from a respectful distance. He hasn't been here long enough to know any of the dead personally - he grieves their loss, but it isn't personal in the way it might be had he known their names, their faces, their hearts. It isn't until a little native boy presses a boat into his hands and explains that he might send his sorrows away with it that Wei Wuxian understands that the ceremony is for all of them.

And with this realization comes hesitation. Wei Wuxian has lost so many. His father, his mother. His adopted father, his adopted mother. His own life. Shijie..

He hasn't thought long on her since arriving here. Wei Wuxian never thinks of his sister for long, for when he does, emotions he wants to believe he doesn't have time for claw at his chest. Looking down at the little boat, now, Wei Wuxian can't bring himself to let her go, but he could acknowledge the loss. He looks at the boat and thinks of gentle hands and sweeter smiles, of the bundles of food she'd always overburdened him with, of lotus root soup and the dear son she'd been forced to leave behind.

It's with tears in his eyes tha Wei Wuxian sets the boat to the water, dropping to his knees in the muddied shore to bow before it as it drifts away. "Shijie," he whispers. "It's you that deserved a second life, not me. Forgive me."

feast

[yiling_laozu]

Despite the tears that come before, Wei Wuxian is having an excellent time. The banquet hall is lovely, all but dripping with magic that makes it feel as if the feast is taking place in the midst of a lush forest.

What's more, there are several types of alcohol. Wei Wuxian goes for the clear flame water first, familiar with the way it burns in his belly and spreads the warmth all over. The ales he samples some time after, finding them strange at first, but pleasant in the way that reminds him of biting into a loaf of freshly baked bread.

He's feeling very content indeed, and when someone takes a seat next to him, he thinks nothing of resting his head on their shoulder, offering them his newly acquired flagon of ale.

Thea Queen | OTA

[redarrowqueen]

[Feast]

Thea could not make herself consider braving the "funeral" but decided the feast could be risked. But she won't drink, just observe at least for the moment. She may not hug as a newbie but is social and well at least this time its blood free and no shards of glass tagging along for the ride?
---
Wild Card

Have Thea will travel!

[mindseer]

Tap tap tap went the cane from someone on the other side of the table Thea was at. The girl had a blindfold on as she flopped in across from her with a plate of food and a glass of water. No booze, not her style and no fruity sweet stuff. That was just as bad, or worse for her, but hey she sniffed out someone new and why not say hi?

Resting one hand at her side, still in a sling while she recovered from her injuries, she was at least no longer bandaged in any other obvious way. "Hey there. Well, I'll say one thing for these guys. They do make a good spread, don't they?"

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne was built for dancing, not for mourning. She knew, of course, that there was an appropriate time and place to remember the dead. But all things considered, and given the choice, she preferred losing herself to the music. The way she figured it, it's what the dead would want. Certainly, if she were the dead one, she'd want people to be happy. Nothing upset her more than the idea of causing grief.

She pulled the bulk of her peasant skirt forward, between her legs, tucking it into her belt to create herself a makeshift pair of pantaloons. And she let the strange music carry her away.

There really was no such thing as strange music. It was a universal language. Like a smile or a laugh. So she twirled with a relish, prancing from place to place, sometimes dancing with people, other times dancing alone. It didn't matter much. Not until she stumbled over a root and dropped her hands on her knees, laughing.

It was then she noticed that she'd ended up in front of a stranger. And she smiled abashedly, offering her a little curtsy. "Beg your pardon, my lady."

Terezi Pyrope | Homestuck | OTA

[mindseer]

Morning)
She didn't shy away from the ceremony. Usually? She was more on the mockery or irreverent side of things normally, but she still felt like this was a moment to take, to think about those who had passed, those who had disappeared in her life, and a few of the others who'd fallen in that last fight with the dead.

She was there, dressed as simply as ever. Formal attire wasn't something she either understood or had. T-Shirt, jeans, blindfold resting on her shoulders, white eyes staring on while she looked at the boats, and a jacket to protect against the rain. She stayed quiet, thinking about everyone dead in her own timeline.

When they asked gifts, she brought out a pair. One was a rainbow colored scarf and the other was the pin from a detonated grenade. If you were curious what on earth that pair of very odd gifts to the boats might have been about, there was only one way to find out, and she had stepped away from the crowd by a tree as the arrow was lit.

The Dedication)
Ok, this was officially surreal. She was staring at a picture of her riding a horse along with Ivar, lancing and shooting at a giant dragon. It was childlike, which she didn't mind in the slightest. Her own artistic skills were debatable at best, but the idea of being painted like some sort of hero? That was just kind of odd.

She glanced over at the person next to her, whispering softly. "You ever feel really awkward when you know people've been talking about you?" Because she really really did right now.

Wildcard)
(OOC: Otherwise known as "I want a party thread!" If you don't see something you want to do with Terezi, just start a prompt at your leisure. I'll run with whatever!)

The Dedication

[momsboy]

"I think they really captured your spirits there." Peter appeared next to her, admiring the drawing. He's been part of the funeral and didn't feel like talking to anybody but this new wing got his attention. He even spotted himself in a few of his drawings, and even Sandy was drawn as a kitty with large ears in one of them.

"But I think you might have liked to ride the dragon rather than fight it."

jim kirk ▹▹ open to all (will match format!)

[winscenario]

▹ THE FUNERAL.

Jim doesn't own much of anything. He came here with nothing, and he hasn't really collected all that much, so far. He's gathered a few trinkets here and there, taken a liking to a few potted plants that he tends to with great care, and he has some clothes, but if there's one thing he's been collecting a lot of is books.

It's not much in the way of gifts, but it's all he has. Jim walks along the shore and settles down next to a boat when fewer people are around, quietly adding a poetry book to the pile of offerings, then a few flowers, some still in a vase, others just arranged into a bouquet. He touches a bud and makes it blossom with little effort, his smile sad.

Eventually he steps back, sitting in a quieter corner, looking deep in thought as though his watered eyes aren't quite focusing on anything right now.

▹ THE FEAST.

He can't bring himself to visit the museum. The gesture is very kind and he knows that many of the people involved in the fight (and even many of those who stayed behind) deserve that kind of homage, but Jim doesn't feel like he belongs in that group. He failed utterly, all he wanted to do was help and save people and he managed the exact opposite. Some of the people they're mourning are people he hurt and even killed.

But the party is a welcome distraction. Jim isn't in a very festive mood but he thinks there's no harm in at least taking a peek at the venue...

And once he steps inside? Well, he doesn't feel like leaving at all anymore.

He accepts a drink quickly, fills up a plate with food, and it's not long before he's laughing and greeting people at random, inviting either strangers or familiar faces for a dance, whether balancing his drink on one hand or abandoning it entirely on a table.

All throughout the party, he's feeling much more relaxed, and much more prone to gestures of affection too. Granted, those might vary a little depending on how well he might know someone, but it might range from a friendly hug, simply sitting close to them, or playfully trying to drag them down into a pile of leaves (he may even be a little tipsy by then, who knows). Either way, he feels full of joy and affection and he just wants to share that feeling of delight with everyone.

funeral

[tealeafs]

Chizuru honestly can't blame anyone for being in a sad or quiet mood with all of this going on. It's hard to feel anything else in the face of the ceremony, and even Chizuru herself just quietly watches it all.

But it's also hard not to notice some people isolating themselves. And it makes her hesitate, because on one hand, Chizuru sucks at leaving people alone when they seem like they might need help or company. But on the other hand, she knows it's not always what people want in these situations.

But when she spots Jim sitting there in a quiet corner-- She remembers him from when they talked about cooking. He seemed so bright with his smiles back then that it kind of hurts to see him looking like this instead.

It takes Chizuru a few moments to convince herself and scrape some courage together, but then she slowly walks over to him.

".. Excuse me." She even speaks softly, not wanting to draw too much attention to him that he may not want. "Do you.. maybe want some company?"

Wen Qing | OTA

[imahealerbut]

[ funeral ] plant your flag into the ground;
[Wei Wuxian isn’t the only one putting irrelevant momentos in these boats today. Wen Qing feels very little about the recent battle- it’s nothing that she hasn’t seen before, that hasn’t happened to people closer than these. But you know what has happened? Her brother became a zombie. And they never really had time to figure out what funeral rites you should do for a zombie, especially a weird sentient one, or if they ought to do any rites to begin with.

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the fact that her brother lives on. Wei Wuxian claims he still does many years on- though Wen Qing avoids imagining so far into the future because it causes emotions and she doesn’t like that- and it’s nice that Wen Ning gets to do things he never could, it is, but her brother’s a fucking zombie. Every tenet of cultivational practice says restless spirits ought to be laid to rest, encouraged to pass on to where they could be reincarnated into a (hopefully) better life. At some point, you have to start thinking about whether continued existence is worth looking like a literal corpse and having no muscle control in your face.

Anyway, most people won’t realise that the complicated scripts she’s putting in are actually talismans for setting restless spirits at peace, so she’s going to mourn whoever she damn well pleases. You can’t stop her. You probably shouldn’t talk to her at all at this point, because some innocent native approaches her and she snaps at them quite harshly. ]

What are you looking at?

[The guy was probably just offering to help, but Wen Qing’s having a Moment.]

[ feast ] our victory, we will sing forever
[Nothing provides an excuse for repressing your emotions like a fancy dinner! Wen Qing’s good at repressing her emotions, and so appears in a genial mood that’s somewhat genuine despite that Moment earlier in the day. Frankly, emotional vulnerability was an absolute no-go in front of so many people, she’s thinking she should be more cautious going forward. But she’ll consider that later.

Wen Qing doesn’t lose it on the dance floor or anything, but she is dressed up in the nicest colour of plain hanfu she has. And she helps herself to the food, and of course the drink. At the height of its power the Wen clan held banquets every other night- she may be just one young lady but her alcohol tolerance is respectable. ]

Try the rice wine, it’s good.

[It’s actually only average, but when you’ve been away from home this long any Chinese wine tastes like ambrosia from the high heavens. She’ll make the offer to most adults that look like they’re willing to socialise, unless your name is Ye Zun- who she knows is responsible for this, and will instead compliment your achievements- or Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian needs the opposite of encouraging in all aspects of his life.]

feast

[tealeafs]

[ Honestly, there's no wine offering necessary here. Chizuru has already made a point of trying to spot familiar faces around the party to make sure everyone is doing alright after this very heavy emotional day - even now the atmosphere seems to have grown a lot better. And so she does start to make her way through the crowds towards Wen Qing when Chizuru can spot her.

Until she sees the hanfu once she gets close enough to actually be able to see the other's clothes rather than just random dancing people. That makes Chizuru stop and gasp for a moment before she continues walking towards the other. And once she's finally close enough to be in earshot despite some of the loud partying people around, she doesn't hesitate to say-- ]

You look so beautiful..!

[ Especially since Chizuru - in comparison - is very underdressed. That's just what happens when you haven't dressed as a woman for so long that you just never do it anymore in general.. ]

ben hargreeves | ota

[portablecthulhu]

the funeral.

[ It's a little surreal for him going to a funeral. Considering he couldn't attend his own, he's never been to a proper one. Yet, Ben is very familiar with death and the melancholy that it brings; even the sky seems to be shedding tears for the people lost. It's fitting but also morose.

Conveniently, he tends to wear black most days and this is no exception. While he's new and not nearly as familiar with the people that were lost, he still does his best to respect their memories. He doesn't have anything of note to give but his time.

He looks on as the boats float away and sighs while shoving his hands in his pocket. He wonders how his family felt lowering him into the ground all those years ago. ]

the dedication.

[ Museums are something Ben enjoys. Usually. In this case, all the buzz around recent happenings isn't quite what he expected. Museums are supposed to be quiet, personal, and thought-provoking. Instead, it's an ode to... them.

He's not sure how to feel about that. Ben personally hasn't done anything he feels worthy of praise. Also, it makes him feel a little too much like he did as a child with the eyes of the world on the superhero vigilante Hargreeves children. He hadn't liked the attention then and he absolutely doesn't like the attention now. ]

Doesn't this seem like a little much?

[ He asks the question to whatever Wanderer might be near. Please, reassure him he's not alone in being wildly uncomfortable. ]

the feast.

[ Drinking is something that Ben didn't get a chance to do much (if at all) before his passing. He still doesn't really want to partake too much for he's seen how it can lower inhibitions and lead to... less than ideal choices. The man has an ale in his hand though that he plans to savor for the evening.

If someone tugs on his sleeve to ask him to dance, he politely declines- ] Sorry, I don't really know how to. [ This is a lie. After spending years trying to fill his time in the afterlife, well... He picked a few interesting skills. Dancing was one. But he's not about to show it off or anything. Embarrassing.

Otherwise, he just kind of ghosts (ha) around the 'forest' and takes in all the sights with his beer in tow. ]

dead boys unite! (funeral)

[othlir]

[ Coincidentally, Vax is also wearing primarily black. He's more than familiar with death at this point, and while he still hasn't exactly received any particular duties from the Raven Queen at this point, he figures it can't hurt to get a head start on things. What else is a paladin of a death god to do, other than oversee a massive funeral?

He's new as well, has no idea who any of the folks being mourned are — but still, he does his best to collect some flowers to leave as offerings, stands solemnly by as the boats drift away. And glances over to see a fellow Wanderer standing somewhat awkwardly by.

So Vax sidles on over, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. ]

If I'm being honest, this may be the prettiest funeral I've ever been to. [ And there's a sympathetic glance. ] Did you know anyone they're mourning?

Asterios | Fate Grand Order | OTA

[beefaroni]

Dedication

[He shouldn't be here. There are too many people in what he feels is too cramped a space - but beyond that? He shouldn't be THERE - in this dedication, treated like he was a force for good. He'd attacked his allies in his bloodlust, and he was liable to do it again. He wasn't a hero, even if he was technically a Heroic Spirit. This wasn't right.]

Hnnngh...

[He reaches out, almost thinking of ripping out his part there, smashing it with his bare hands... but he backs off. He pulls away, turning away, his face dark. He begins to leave, breathing hard.]

Feast

[On the lighter side of things, Asterios is discovering booze for the first time. It's by accident, mind you, and as he took a cautionary lick of his 'weird water' a.k.a vodka...]

Nnngh! ... What happened... to the water? Is it... poisoned?

Re: Asterios | Fate Grand Order | OTA

[lan_wangji]

Lan Zhan stops suddenly at the gruff voice, turning to find Master Asterios with....ah.

"That is the alcohol I spoke of," he answers, hoping very much his tolerance is better than that of Lan Wangji's. He'd made short work of the rice paddy and Lan Wangji is unsure how best to contain him if the alcohol has an adverse effect.

"It can muddle the mind. Be cautious of it."

[keybearing]

Funeral:

[Sora might not have been killed in the fighting himself, but it still does sober him. Is still terrifying, even if death might not be permanent here. He's not sure if it might come at a cost, bringing people back. Whether they could bring everyone back or just the Wanderers. Still, he makes an appearance to show his respects, joining in offering some food or such at least, even if it isn't much.

He watches as the arrow is lit and as it fires off to the boats, gaze lowering as the boat itself alights. He....thought for a moment back home that he'd lost Goofy. That was hard enough. Let alone this. The harsh reminder and reality that it could happen. How lucky he is that he survived, this and back home with everything.]

Dedication:

Wait, this is.....this is us?

[He heard something about a new display at the museum but hadn't necessarily registered that it was about them. The Wanderers from various worlds. Donald always talked about not meddling with things in their travels. But Sora never could resist the chance to help.

Which is why he might give a small smile in spite of himself at the drawings, seeing a figure with spiky hair and an oversized key. Sora himself included in the drawings. Then he blinks, double taking when he hears his name when he watches the songs or poetry.]

Feast:

[Sora is generally fairly open with his affections regardless and one to wax poetic about his friends and how great they were anyway. It just seems he has even more inclination to do so than usual. Which is why as he eats and sips at a drink, he might then end up quite comfortable in leaning more against whoever he is sitting with at the time, head resting against their shoulder as he sits and watches the dancing and listens to the singing.]

This is nice....

Feast

[beefaroni]

[Asterios had merely stopped in place to take in the sights, intending to move on soon enough... except, apparently, he's become a place to lean on? He blinks down at Sora - no way small body is on his tall shoulder, but some of that fluffy mane may be close.]

Huh?

Eddie Kaspbrak | OTA

[lovser]

I. FUNERAL

Truthfully Eddie only showed up out of respect, and boredom. After all, it's not like he knew any of these people personally. Not really. He just got here. Looking around at all the sunken faces makes him understand somewhat, despite the disconnect he feels. His morning was spent collecting random flowers and bunches of sticks he figured would look nice. It's been pretty quiet lately, and despite his knack for being a caretaker, he's not keen to stick his hands back in the medical field quite yet.

He hasn't adjusted to the traditions of Asgard yet, and watching his morning's hard work burn and sink into the ocean leaves him miffed temporarily. It passes once the boats are out of sight and people start to leave, but he stays, watching over the lake wondering if it could've been some stranger leaving flowers for him instead.

II. FEAST

The banquet hall is much louder, much more crowded and full of more drunk people initially than he had anticipated. Eddie has never been around a drunk person before. His mom was never one to partake, but she had told him once that people drink when they're sad to make them feel better. But those were bums and people that were mean to their wives, or so Sonia Kaspbrak had told him.

Albeit his discomfort with the way some people took food with their hands, Eddie made his way to a seat, far in a corner away from most of the bustle of people. Picked away at some food almost like a bird, eating enough to sustain him but not particularly thrilled by having to do so.