asgardchrysalis | {Do things wholeheartedly, burn yourself up completely

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{Do things wholeheartedly, burn yourself up completely

Who: Anyone who wishes to attend!
What: Bonfire party/wish burning tradition
When: Tues, Dec 31, 2019 (from around dusk, up to/through dawn, or whenever everyone disperses and/or passes out)
Where: A wide-open area in the park, Skadi's district
Warnings: Possible language, alcohol (/potential underage drinking?); but overall this should be a pretty chill, PG party.

{Nights like this lead to new beginnings | Early on/mingling

The set up of the party is simple: A moderately sized bonfire is the centerpiece of the whole affair, crackling pleasantly for the whole night. There are various log benches as well as stools available for seating around the bonfire; there are various snacks and drinks (alcoholic and not, because children may attend!) adorning a couple of tables for anyone to indulge in.

The entire atmosphere of the evening is very laid-back and quiet, nothing at all extravagant. Kol will mingle with anyone who shows up and make chit-chat with all attendees, and generally be a very welcoming, and at-ease host. He's no stranger to the game of keeping guests pleased, and this is far more of an easy time than some of the more complex and large-spanned galas and balls he and his family have thrown together in years (and centures) past.

{New Year wishes spark in the heart of flames | Later night

On one of the tables, there rests a moderate stack of parchment paper and a quill pen to write down wishes for this particular part of the party. He doesn't know how many people might actually partake in this, but it's a family tradition and, though he had hard and soured relationships with all of his siblings, and things were not last left in great places with any of them, being so far away from them, with no foreseeable way back to them (and the fact that back home, he's dead, and not for the first time, might he add), has him nostalgic and missing them. Perhaps even more than them, the times before their lives were so complicated and messy.

Later in the night, he approaches the table and writes on the parchment three simple words:

To new beginnings.

He sets the pen down, folds the paper in half, and holds it tucked between two fingers for a long moment. He doesn't move or speak, or seem to take note of much around him for that moment; he only stares into the dancing flames for those eternally long seconds. And, finally tearing away from his fixation, he steps forward and puts the paper into the fire and watches it burn, the tiniest of tugs upward of one corner of his mouth.

He'll hang around that table for a bit, in case anyone has questions to ask or commentary to give about the act of it. It's rather straight forward, but given the very nature of everyone being from different worlds, some wildly so, he expects there could be some cause to confusions or curiosities, both.

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Early Evening
Long ago, someone--Ariadne couldn't remember who--had taught her that at any kind of gathering or party, the first place to go was where the food was being served. Not because of hunger or gluttony. But that's where the most important conversations always took place. Not that Ariadne was expecting important conversations of any kind--why would she?--but out of habit she made her way over to the tables of treats, only recognizing them in bits and pieces.

Actually, one of the best parts of encountering new cultures was always the food. So she watched what others were doing, trying to figure it all out for herself.

And if she ended up with sticky caramel on her fingers, well.

It wasn't the worst thing she'd ever done.

Late Evening
Fire wasn't Ariadne's favorite thing, but she recognized its power. Both literal and metaphorical. And she'd come to the party to participate in the ritual and ceremony. Still, she lingered away from the flames for as long as possible.

Crushed between her hands, she'd written down several resolutions--hopes and dreams--not quite sure which one she wanted to contribute.

What was most important to be in a place like this?

Well...there was one slip of paper in particular that Ariadne kept shuffling to the top of the pile:

Try to live an honest life

How would she even start? She twisted the paper around her fingers. White and pink, like a Human's. That was where it would have to begin. With what she was.

Ariadne wasn't ready yet. Was she?

He's made sure to mingle with anyone that arrived early in the evening, playing the role of a good host but now things are slowing down a bit, edging toward the later hours. People have sectioned off in their own corners, having their own quiet conversations or milling about in whatever way they felt like.

Kol spots Ariadne near the fire, looking rather indecisive, a handful of papers in her hands. He smiles a bit at her apparent hesitation. He's sure to make a bit of noise-- crumpling leaves, cracking twigs under his feet-- so as not to startle her when he sidles up next to her. "You can do more than one if you like." he points out quietly.

Back home, she would have heard him even without the leaves and twigs. She would have picked up his heartbeat, and maybe his scent--whatever it was--long before he approached. It was so hard feeling powerless, sometimes. So she was strangely grateful for the noise he made as he walked over. Even if he couldn't possibly know what it meant to her.

She smiled awkwardly down at the papers in her hands. "I could," she said. "But I feel like that might be asking too much. Or overpromising. Or maybe both. I'm not sure."

You had to make a future happen, after all. She knew the bonfire wasn't magic. It wasn't going to grant wishes.

"Am I allowed to ask what you picked?" she said, looking back at him. "Or is it one of those things where you aren't supposed to tell?"

"It's only what you make of it, really." But if she saw it as either, then perhaps it was one or both of those things.

His mouth turns up at one corner, "It's no secret, if you don't want it to be." he admits. "Nothing much... just new beginnings, for me. This place is--" he pauses briefly, reconsidering his words, "well, I guess it's a third chance, rather than a second one, really." One without his family which, despite all his issue with them, feels a little more empty and hollow than he'd like. Not at all like he might have expected. Even in all his distant travels away from the group of his siblings, there were always chances that they'd come across each other again somewhere along the way. There's just something about knowing he won't see them at all, no matter how much time passes, unless the whims of this place choose any of the them, that feels...off and wrong, somehow.

She smiled a little at that. "I like it. A second...or third...chance. It's really a positive spin on the situation." And Ariadne always favored optimism, when given the choice. It was important.

It kept her alive.

Feeling impulsive, she crumpled up all of her little slips of paper into one big ball. She meant to toss them into the fire together, but they came apart in the air, falling one by one into the flames. Like fireworks.

Or snow.

Falling promises. To herself. To her new community. It was actually quite lovely.

"I'm not sure I'd be in as positive spirits about it, if I hadn't only just died at home. That and..." He shrugs a little, one hand sweeping out to gesture vaguely. "these are my Gods. Perhaps not the ones of my home world, I suppose there's no way to know for sure, but-- they are. It's kind of humbling, really."

His smile widens and brightens are her gesture, watching as each scrap of paper catches in the flames, instantly ablaze and burned to ash in seconds. "To a better year ahead, yeah?"

Kol really needed to stop throwing in casual mentions of death. It threw Ariadne off kilter so much. She never knew exactly how much to take at his word.

Admittedly, a problem with all the new people she was meeting here in Asgard.

At any rate, she decided to let it pass without comment. For the time being. But her insides were squirming with questions. Like snakes trapped in a bag that just wanted to wriggle free.

"Do you think we'll be here another whole year?" she asked. "Not that I mind this place so much, but there are people depending on me back home. I think."

Honestly, Kol's life has revolved around death for so long, it would be nigh impossible for him to not drop such casual mentions of it in conversation. Even if he were asked not to, it's not likely a feat he could achieve. Such is the life of a vampire.

"I don't know," he admits, hands clasped behind his back as he slowly circles the fire, eyes focused on the dancing flames as he considers what she's asked. "I suppose it depends on how quickly the Gods can put together some sort of way to fix it all. Odin seems intent on finding the solution to get everyone home. Determined enough that he won't look to giving anyone a choice, if it comes down to it."

He doesn't think it was in malice that the deity had made such statements; for all that Kol has seen thus far, Odin seems rather benevolent. But that doesn't mean he won't make a harsh decision for the greater displaced community at large. The many versus the few, etcetera. Kol finds the idea unpleasant, but not unreasonable.

That gave her pause. "Won't look into giving anyone a choice?"

Admittedly, Ariadne was pretty sure she knew where she was going. Or, perhaps, where she needed to go. But she also knew that there were plenty of people here--plenty of people--who were probably better off in Asgard than any place they happened to originate from.

And she didn't know him well, but she had the sense that Kol was one of those people.

She frowned a little bit. "Somehow, that doesn't seem fair either. Like giving someone a taste of honey, then telling them they can never have it again."

"It was something I asked him about... If there would be a choice. He said if it came to sending everyone home, or no one, then they would send everyone. Hard decisions have to be made in the leader's role, he's completely prepared to make it, if he has to." He doesn't seem offended by it, at any rate. "I think it's just-- he knows we shouldn't be here... that we have our own worlds we're all meant to be in, and if they find a way, they'll send us. If there's a choice, perhaps we'd get one, but... perhaps it's just his way of preparing for every possibility."

"I know about hard decisions," she said. Her own and the ones she'd see Princess Amanda make, over the course of nine years and a million small losses. "But they can be fair, can't they? Maybe I want to go to my friend Gamora's world, instead of my own."

She didn't. But that wasn't the point.

Sighing, Ariadne shook her head. "I know it's not proper to question the gods. But sometimes..."

Sometimes, she wondered just how powerful--or wise--they really were.

A sentiment she knew better to put into words.

"But I guess it's academic, anyway. We're still stuck here until anyone says otherwise. We need to make the best of it."

"Have you really lived a life so full of fairness, that you can expect it to always play out just so?" He can't picture it, personally. His own life has been the exact opposite of such a thing that it's much easier to assume the worst in any and all situations he may ever find himself in.

He nods a bit, "Aye, we are, and I'm not finding it hard so far. But I suppose, all things considered, it's been rather calm since I arrived."

"Fairness is an ideal we mortals can only hope to achieve." But gods weren't mortals. It was different for them. Just like life and living was different. And yes, she knew they weren't necessarily all powerful. But they were capable of so much more.

It was disappointing to think that they would let that potential just...god.

Like the gods of her mother, she supposed, as she folded her arms around each other, chilled in the light of the fire. They'd let such cruelty unfold for her family. Never mind how faithful her mother had been. How ardent. How true.

"No," she said softly. "I haven't lived a life full of fairness. But if I were the one in charge of making the decisions..."

But she wasn't. She never would be.

"I haven't been mortal in a really long time." Yes, he will continue to drop notes like this on you, Ariadne, best buckle up and get used to it quickly, dear.

He chuckles softly and shakes his head. "I can't tell you how many times in my life, I've had that exact same thought.... my brothers were bad to steal my choices and agency away from me when I stepped outside of their predetermined lines. Now that I'm here, I have more power over my own decisions and I find it... quite freeing, actually. Even if there are still some general rules and guidelines to follow, it's different than having everything I do so harshly judged."

"We're never free from judgement," she replied. "Not even here. Even if none of the rules of our respective worlds follow us here...we still have to answer to ourselves."

More and more of that cock-eyed optimist was starting to show. But Ariadne didn't mind. She hid so many truths about herself.

This one could show.

"That's why I was thinking so carefully about which paper I threw in the fire. I want to be held accountable for my actions. Hopefully, it'll make me a better person."

"I never had a problem following my own rules, it's the ones of others I've always had an issue with." There's something of an amused tone in his voice at that admission; he can't help it, he's always been a bit of a trouble-maker, for as long as he's lived.

"What was one of them?" he asks curiously, head tilted a bit to look at her. "If you don't mind my asking." He would accept it, if she decided she didn't want to share it with him, but he can help being curious, especially after admitting his own to her.

She ran her palms along her arms, trying to fight back the gooseflesh of too much equivocation. "Well." She would start slow. Start with the easier ones. "I suppose one of the most important is that I want to try new things. My experiences back home were always so limited. Before living here, I'd never had my own garden before. Or worn those shoes...what are they called? With the heels? Oh! And Peter introduced me to a fascinating new holiday called 'Christmas' and I enjoyed celebrating that very much."

Did it make sense to her? Not at all, especially the way Peter tried to explain it. She just didn't get how you could only believe in one god, but split it up into three parts? And say that one part was sometimes mortal?

But who was she to judge?

"I want to try a lot of new things in the new year," she continued. "Jim told me about something called a 'bubble bath' that sounds very interesting. And, of course, this ritual of yours..."

Evening

Now this is a celebration he can get behind. It reminds him an awful lot of home, minus any sort of mushrooms for the guests to consume. Maybe if Klaus shows up even that will change. He limps over and grabs some food plus a large tankard of ale before sitting down on one of the wooden trunks serving as stools around the fire.

He unlatches his leg braces and props them up against the side of his seat, making his intentions to stay there for the long haul clear, before he starts gnawing on some sort of vegetable appetizer-looking things on his plate. He'll be drinking a lot of ale while he lets the fire seep into his bones.

Warmth always does him a world of good, helping the aches and pains that plague him constantly, so he's a bit more approachable tonight then he normally is. Really, it's amazing how much of his bad temperament can be chalked up to being in pain all the time. He's sure everyone else would be grumpy too if they were hurting 24/7 as well. That murderous look on his face isn't quite so present and he seems almost calm as he snuggles deep into the fur cloak he's got draped about himself.

Late night

Ivar looks somewhat subdued as he thinks of what to put down on the paper. At least it will be burned soon enough so that he doesn't have to worry about what to put down on it. He gnaws on the end of the quill, shredding the feather fragments and making the rest damp as he thinks. Finally, he writes down one phrase in quick, decisive runes. If anyone catches a glimpse at the parchment, they'll see what he's written.

Not to burn everything I touch.

It's a good resolution to make, even if he highly doubts his ability to be able to keep it. Ivar's personality just naturally ranges towards self-destructive behavior. Then again, he's never actually made much of an attempt to change towards something else. Maybe this time will finally be different.

He tosses it into the fire and the light reflects in his beautiful eyes. He's pensive and a bit subdued now, much more so then Ivar is ever warranted to be.

There is an easy, relaxed sort of atmosphere encasing the place tonight. Exactly the sort of thing Kol might have hoped for, for the evening, honestly. He wasn't sure how many people might turn up, but so far he's been pleasantly surprised with the number of them. It was no ball or gala, afterall, he didn't need the entire Asgard community to show up (though he would certainly not hate it if they did all show up in the end, either).

Kol is doing his best to play gracious host, to speak at least once to everyone that has chosen to attend his small gathering. So far, it's been rather easy, as people slowly trickle in. He spots a bloke he hasn't spoken to yet and wanders over to where the other is sat. "Enjoying yourself well enough so far, then?" he asks casually, sipping at the drink in his hand.

Ivar turns and looks at who has spoken to him, his relaxed state snapping straight back to attention. There's something in his piercing blue eyes that is a throwback to predatory animals: a hungry wolf or hunting hawk perhaps, with the way his head tilts down while his eyes move upwards at the same time. He's sizing Kol up, trying to figure out if he's a threat or not. The Viking seems to decide he isn't, at least not right at this moment.

Surely nothing too terrible would happen during the holidays, right?

"It reminds me a little of home," he says finally, taking a deep swig of his ale. "All that's missing is some shoes to fill with gifts and some weapons being thrown." Yule was never a dull affair, especially where the Ragnarssons were concerned.

Kol doesn't flinch at that wolfish snap to attention, if anything, it only makes one corner of his mouth twisting just slightly in a smirk, both eyebrows lifting in amusement. Predatory looks are all too familiar in the Mikaelson family, so it really just makes him feel in like company.

"I'm sure there's something we could throw, if it'd make you feel more at home," he chuckles softly-- but it's sort of hard to tell if he means it as a joke, exactly. It would certainly liven things up, wouldn't it?

"There is a reason I always keep a knife on me at all times. Keeps life from getting too dull," he says. Ivar pulls one of his favorites out of his vest. He had fashioned it with a hole in the bottom of the handle so he could twirl it around his finger like he's doing right now. It doesn't add anything to his throwing skills, but damn if it doesn't look cool.

It's likewise ambiguous if Ivar is joking or not. His idea of a good party is one where a little blood ends up getting shed because life is far too short to waste on dull times.

Honir has been curiously wandering through Kol's party, always delighted by seeing what the Wanderers get up to and what they've brought with them from home. Fire and alcohol are more than familiar - Norsemen will do as Norsemen do, not that Honir would know to use the name for them - but the bits of paper are new. The very concept of writing things down is still strange to him, as the gods have had no use for words let alone going so far as to transcribe them.

But Kol doesn't even keep his words. He writes them and burns them, and while burning personal belongings isn't particularly new to Honir, he's still brightly curious as he stands next to the human by the bonfire.

"Is it fun?"

It certainly looks fun! But maybe it's best to ask first for this one.

He turns to the man that is rather suddenly next to him-- he really still isn't used to being able to be snuck up on, he's not a fan. "Oh, it's absolutely fun. The burning bit is my favorite part," he admits with a soft laugh. It always had been, even when he was a kid. An actual, proper child, rather than someone far older stuck looking like a twenty-something. Not that he minds the forever young bit, of course, he never has hated that, if he's honest.

"You could give it a go," he suggests, grinning a bit. One of the Gods interested in something completely mundane from a very human tradition he hadn't partook in, in a literal age was incredibly flattering.

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{Do things wholeheartedly, burn yourself up completely

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Late evening

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Ivar "The Boneless" Ragnarsson | OTA

Early evening

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later!

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