asgardchrysalis | INTRO LOG + SKADI CURSE.

INTRO LOG + SKADI CURSE.

FEBRUARY INTRO LOG( FEB 16TH & 17TH )

february 16 ↴
INTRO: NEW WANDERERS' ARRIVAL!

Our batch of new Wanderers wake this morning, as all new Wanderers have before, on a plush bed with a mild but lingering sense of recent disorientation. Frigg greets them as per normal, though rather than outright escorting Wanderers to the front doors this time, she and Sigyn allow the Wanderers time and space to leave their bed, meet the pantheon, and even depart the palace at their own pace - but not without a warning. All Wanderers must choose a deity to tether to before dawn the next day, or else one of the gods will choose them. This is of grave importance, as that's precisely how long the magic giving them form is able to last untethered before the Mother's own magic overwhelms it.

(Though the gods are more than willing to allow Wanderers to leave, it's worth noting that many a castle servant - natives, born in this land - might see fit to intercede and insist on the choosing of a god before Wanderers step off the Gladsheim Palace grounds.)

Stepping outside, you're greeted by an almost bright and sunny day... Undermined thoroughly by a sharp, biting wind that permeates any small gap in your clothing. I bet the gods might give you a sweater, if you ask. It probably won't even look that absurd, depending on which one you ask. A trail of what seems like stringless balloons float at eye level from just outside the palace door, guiding Wanderers down the path to a notice board just outside the palace grounds. On this notice board, Wanderers find a brief handwritten guide to accessing the city map on their cuffs, specifically denoting the little colored house icons ( ⌂ ) to help Wanderers make their way to each god's housing.

Also on this board appear to be a variety of job listings, for those who want to get more involved in Asgard as a whole. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? There's more than enough time for that once you've chosen a god to tether to in the first place.

february 17 ↴
GOD CURSE: CHARACTER-BUILDING WITH SKADI.

The storm brewing within Skadi is hardly a secret. She was impatient during the gods' supposedly unanimous address, and in the days to follow, Sigyn (with all her desperately good intentions) tried to balm the irritation but only abraded the goddess further still. She attended the Wanderers' arrival purely by the letter of her duty and swept back out the doors as soon as that duty released her, and since then she's been holed up in her temple, her pointy-faced statues positioned just outside as sentinels meant to intimidate mortals away.

They dared to tell her that she does nothing. Nothing for the Wanderers, that is. Nothing to help them grow and self-actualize, as if these 'Wanderers' are so much more important than Asgard itself, which weakens by the day as her fellow gods fling their magic about to overprotect the Wanderers, or even to satisfy their whims. The consensus to draw back some of that wasteful protection would have pleased her, if she weren't so thoroughly fixated on the slight that preceded it.

They want her to help the Wanderers self-actualize? So be it. There's no better way, truly, than to confront and overcome the ways in which you're flawed.

So the morning after arrival day, many Wanderers wake up with a stinging, itching spot somewhere on their body. Maybe their arm, maybe their back, maybe their throat. In that spot, as it turns out, is a set of words in a deep ruddy brown (almost like old blood) under their skin as if tattooed in place. But these aren't just any words - they prey directly into the Wanderer's fears, their regrets, their insecurities, and their mistakes. They're facing down some of the worst things they've ever thought or feared about themselves.

The other gods, of course, are eager and willing to try to relieve the poor Wanderers of these cursed marks... but they find that it's not quite so easy. Wanderers who seek a god's removal of the words find that not only do the words remain, but a new set appears: Flees the truth.

But that's fine = For most Wanderers, these words disappear on their own in a day or two. A handful of unlucky souls find that their marks linger indefinitely, or seem to disappear but return at truly inopportune occasions down the line.

MOD NOTES

This is the February intro log and Skadi's curse, our mini-event for this month!

Skadi's curse is is entirely opt-in - not all Wanderers are affected - and is detailed more fully in the 'This Month's Events' section of the February Bulletin, and you're welcome to direct any follow-up questions to the Bulletin's mod questions top-level.

You've also likely noticed that god jobs are now live! The listings themselves can be found here (same link as within the 'arrival' prompt), with a brief FAQ featured over here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[how odd, he's still up in the air about it.

in his defense, this is the first thing that's affected him where he's been overtly uncomfortable. having suffered through so many ridiculous plant effects, things like losing his voice or his skin changing different colors isn't all that weird but these words— they're completely, one-hundred-percent unwanted.]

No idea. Nothing like this has ever happened before but if I had to hazard a guess? No longer than a week. [just to give it some leniency.

so far, everything he's experienced hasn't been permanent, thank the fucking gods for that. these markings aren't anything like tattoos; they're rust-colored, the shade of dried blood, nothing like klaus would ever want inked. no, these are more similar to something unwillingly being carved into him and that's way worse.]

[A week. Perfect.]

[Could be worse, sure. Could be a lot worse. Jet rubs at his arm unconsciously, brow furrowed. Feels like a tattoo, perfectly inlaid into his skin. Might only be skin-deep. Could try and figure things out from there. He's felt worse things, right?]

[Probably.]

[He speaks apropos of seemingly nothing, his tone perfectly measured:]

Got a knife?

[look, it could be less! ...or it could be longer but he doesn't wanna think that because if he does, knowing his luck, it'll be the right one.

in spite of himself, klaus glances down when jet rubs his arm, instinctively reaches up and adjusts the collar of his shirt after he looks away again. stupid irreversible curses— who thought it was a good idea to mark people with their shortcomings?

initially, he cocks an eyebrow toward the request, considering. jet does know how that sounds, right?]

What for? [even if he's pulling a knife from the hilt at his left side and passing it to jet anyway, handle-first, the blade pinched between his fingers.]

[Jet accepts it, studies the blade. Seems sharp enough. Might as well give it a shot.]

[He, uh, doesn't answer that question right away. He pushes back his jacket sleeve, exposing the words on his forearm. COULD NOT SAVE HER. Didn't need that reminder, thanks. If Klaus sees it - it's not exactly preventable at this point. It's not as if he'd know who "she" is.]

[This will hurt.]

[No more or less than dying.]

[Still, he doesn't hesitate when he sets the edge of the blade to the skin of his arm and starts to...well skin it. That's really the best description for it.]

[Sorry, Klaus.]

[jesus christ, he should've known better than to just hand over his knife, particularly after what they'd been discussing only moments ago. in his defense though, klaus hadn't honestly considered the fact jet might start skinning the words off his arm.

funnily enough (even though there's nothing legit funny about it), he has a feeling it won't work.]

What in the goddamn hell—? [is about as far as he gets before out of sheer instinct, both his hands raise from his sides, klaus activates his magic and, with the use of his telekinesis, he's forcing jet star's motions to stop.]

Oh my God, oh my God! Are you shitting me right now!?

[thanks for the new nightmares, jet.]

[And then his hands freeze in place, like his limbs got locked down.]

[Jet's reaction is immediate. His focus on more or less trying to scrape the words clean from his arm had been, notably, restrained. Being stopped warps his expression into something stony and unquestionably cold. Every muscle in his shoulders and arms goes tight. It's probably evident from the tension that's wired up the column of his spine that he's abruptly, reflexively fighting the force holding him in place with every ounce of strength that he has.]

[No one holds him down. He doesn't get held down.]

Let go.

[The words are growled, dripping with ice.]

[despite not needing his hands for the ability, klaus's right hand stays steadily raised, the opposite one reaching out, fingers closing around the ones jet's got on the knife. much as he hates using this power against people, especially those he's befriended, there's no way he's letting the guy keep on cutting himself. doesn't matter how much he fights— which he's doing a decent job of, considering the faint amount of extra pressure he applies.

though it's tempting to tell him to let go, he chooses a different route, still attempting to work the knife free, regardless.]

Not until I know for sure you aren't gonna start skinning yourself again! Holy fuck, dude...

[funny (not!), the way he's experiencing jet make an expression that isn't indifference toward something; a thing klaus shouldn't have let happen in the first place because he should've known better than that.]

It'll get them off.

[He says it like it's obvious, even if there's no guarantee that this would actually work. It's logical. It's what's logical. He's forgetting, for the moment, that logic doesn't necessarily have a place here. Not here. Not in a world where gods and curses and magical powers aren't off the table.]

[This, being held at someone's mercy - he's felt this before.]

[He doesn't, historically, do well with a thing like that.]

Now let. Go.

And what if they come back or more show up somewhere else? What, you just gonna keep cutting and cutting?

[evidently, that's klaus's logic. because it's what he would do if he'd thought of the idea (and wasn't a huge wimp). also, he tried to get rid of them, he's well-aware what happens when an attempt is made.

which is why he's about to do something maybe slightly awkward but first—]

Not until you do. [a faint squeeze around jet's fingers.] I'm telling you, it won't work, no matter what you try.

You tried?

[There's a tension that's drawn his whole body tight as a bowstring, to the point where he might as well be vibrating on the spot. He's staring at Klaus, unblinking, his expression locked into something that's the closest Jet gets to a snarl.]

Have. You. Tried.

Yes!

[not quite to the extent that jet has but leaving out that little detail can't be entirely bad. in return though, klaus reaches his free hand down, cinches the hem of his shirt and yanks it up, revealing the angry red FAILURE marring his abdomen.

this time, less desperately as he shrinks back somewhat.] ...and this is what happened when I did. I got more.

[...]

[Well, it's hard to argue with that. Failure, in bright red. The vagueness of the way he puts it more or less leads Jet to believe that, yeah, he more or less tried to carve the words straight off himself the same way Jet did.]

[There's a visible rigidity to his stature as he stands there, frozen on the spot, the blade of a borrowed knife half-buried into a strip of skin at his arm.]

[But eventually, Jet sighs and forces the tension out of his body.]

...fine.

[uncomfortable as it was, seems like klaus got his message across.

he exhales a slow, quivering breath, yanks the shirt back down and hooks the arm around his midsection, gripping the fabric tight, harder than necessary. sure, the words are fucking awful but at least being on jet's arm, they can be covered. he doesn't need to cut them off.

the other wanderer relaxes so he does the same, aside from squirming his fingers further around the knife handle.]

Give me this, I'll let you go, okay? And I can heal your arm, that way it isn't bleeding anymore.

[With visible reluctance, Jet eases his grip on the blade. The red leaking down his arm is nothing compared to the words that lie branded into the exposed strip of skin. COULD NOT SAVE HER. He didn't need the reminder. He really didn't.]

[The pain is secondary. The aftermath is secondary.]

For what.

[He's going to heal him up for free, is that it?]

[and the moment he does, klaus cinches it in his own hand, cringes as he withdraws the blade from jet's arm. oh god, why'd he do that? why? his stomach rolls, an awful, sour taste flooding his mouth that he somehow manages swallowing down again.

he shakes off as much blood as possible, wipes the rest on his sweater then sheathes the knife back at his side.

obviously, he'll do it for free, no other reason except to help him. why would he expect something for that?]

For... nothing? [as klaus upturns his right hand, bracelet still glowing. though the pressure on jet star's arms has vanished, there's continuous power flowing, channeling into the translucent green moths fluttering around his fingers now.] I wouldn't make you repay me for it.

[The invisible tension clamping him in place eases and he breathes out in a shaky sigh, sounding for all the world like someone who doesn't want to let on how tense the entire affair has made him. Cutting into his own skin? Negligible, and necessary. Someone stopping him from doing that? Profoundly uncomfortable.]

[Not sure how he feels about the greenish light flitting around Klaus's hands now, either. But look, man, details - ]

Already owe you.

[hearing jet breathe out like that makes klaus feel even worse. he hadn't wanted to make him uncomfortable or give the guy any reason to distrust him, but he also didn't want to watch him skin his own arm for no goddamn reason. especially when he knows trying to get rid of the words doesn't work.

the moths won't bite, for whatever that's worth? and as he tentatively moves his hand closer, they dart across jet's arm, slowly but surely healing the torn skin, leaving warmth in their wake.]

What do you mean?

[It's complicated. Zone politics. Interpersonal politics. You're not one of his crew, so it stands to reason - you can't assume anything. Klaus has given him information, has given him insight, has given him a knife even if his conscience clearly, clearly screamed against it, and Jet has thus far given him nothing except the possibility that he might have traumatized him more than he already is already.]

[Then again, that might be overselling it.]

[The sensation of his skin knitting itself over, of lacerated flesh smoothing back into something sound and whole, makes the rest of him crawl with pins and needles. A weird, alien warmth hovering over the part of his arm where those words still lay bared to the world.]

Keep helping me.

[honestly, at this point, there shouldn't be much that could traumatize klaus anymore. he's been through so much shit, it's astounding. watching someone flay their own arm though, that's... something new entirely? so, kudos to jet star for that one, he'll be thinking about it for a long, long time.

but he's not traumatized by it, for whatever that's worth. just thoroughly freaked out.

watching the wound heal puts his mind slightly at rest; jet isn't going to be without the words because of it, but at least he isn't bleeding anymore and won't have a nasty scar. tiny green wings recede once the injury is finally gone, klaus wrings his hands afterward, attention downcasted.]

Don't worry about it, man. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't, y'know?

Don't have to.

[Particularly considering that the help he just offered nearly had Jet biting his head off. That's real gratitude for you. Certain barriers are a given for the kind of life he's had. Being on the defensive, being on the offensive - there's always collateral for that. Often interpersonal relationships are the first things to go.]

[A necessary sacrifice. One Jet understands, and accepts. Which is to say, he wouldn't blame Klaus for deciding that maintaining any kind of working relationship with this dude is more trouble than it's worth.]

I know I don't. I want to.

[didn't he just say that? klaus is used to most people biting his head off, even when he's helping, so it's not like that's anything new. frankly, he'd be more worried if they weren't showing him some sort of tough attitude; jet's no exception to this rule.

besides, what's any relationship without a little difficulty here or there? nothing's perfect, not even friendships, especially when they're still being worked out.]

[A quiet grunt, and Jet's single eye slides away from him for a moment. Not entirely. He keeps him in his periphery, just like how he keeps everyone in his sights. Doesn't know them. Doesn't trust them. Doesn't feel predisposed to trust them.]

...fine.

[He'll just have to remember this. Pay it forward, if he can.]

[That's the least he can do.]

[despite his fancy healing properties, klaus hasn't ever been against keeping good ol' handy-dandy bandages with him at all times. from the side opposite his knife, he reaches into a small pouch, removes a roll of gauze and offers it out.]

Here, [and if jet doesn't take it right away, he'll just. give him an insistent little nudge.]

This way you can cover it up if you want. Use the excuse you cut yourself— [pause] —erm, or... something?

[smooth as chunky peanut butter.]

[Jet snorts a little at that, though his expression doesn't break much. It's a hoarse breath of air that quickly cuts itself short. He winds the roll of bandage around the ink-dark stains on his skin with a practiced effortlessness that suggests this isn't the first time he's done this very same thing. It isn't.]

[He doesn't look up from his work, but he makes it quick.]

Saw them, huh?

[The words on his arm. Pretty sure it was obvious what they said.]

[hey, a snort is something and it's better than what klaus had been expecting. his own lips quirk slightly at the edges, features softening and hand withdrawing once the bandages are taken.

at first, he just watches jet while he wraps, engrossed in the steady motion, though the question jostles him enough from the daze that he glances up.]

Yeah... [he's sorry, klaus'd never make someone uncomfortable like that on purpose but since he has technically already seen them—] Is— is it okay to ask about? You don't gotta tell me shit, obviously, but if...it helps...? [shit, this is awkward.]

I'll tell you mine, too. [since that'd only be fair.]

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cw: utilitarian self-harm

a little bit of powerprose!? lmk if not okay

LMAO ALL GOOD

I'M SO SORRY JET asdfhkjg

i feel like im the one who should be apologizing lmao

nahhh this ain't too bad.... as weird as that sounds lmfdashk

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