{Do things wholeheartedly, burn yourself up completely

[itchtokill]

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.

Comments

[demonicbeauty]

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?

Ivar "The Boneless" Ragnarsson | OTA

[ragnarsson]

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.

later!

[asgardsflight]

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.