asgardchrysalis | AUGUST INTRO LOG: MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

AUGUST INTRO LOG: MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

Who: EVERYONE
What: the August intro log and first god house competition, More Than Meets the Eye
When: August 8
Where: Gladsheim Palace for breakfast, around Asgard for the game/curse
Rating: PG-13; please take anything higher than this to a private log!

morning: a warm invitation

Everyone wakes up to a friendly invitation to breakfast at the castle with the gods. For most of you, this comes as a message on your bracelet, reading:

Join us at the castle today to welcome some new Wanderers into our midst. Breakfast will be served and a lively game will be available to all of our guests, both new and old.

New Wanderers are curious on their own, and this is the first there's ever been mention of a game. Perhaps it's enough for you to make the trek to the castle, to see what all the fuss is about, or maybe even to see if there's someone you know. Perhaps you want to learn more about the game, or maybe you just want the food.

For our new guests, this comes as a bit more of a surprise. Wherever you were before in your world, without even realizing it, you wake up in a strange new place. No time or space inbetween, just an awareness of There and then Here. A matronly figure tries to explain your circumstances with a sympathetic smile, but ultimately invites you meet them all for yourselves: the Gods of Asgard, and the Wanderers that arrived before you.

The sight that greets you on the castle grounds is a rather festive one, regardless of where you're coming from. Colorful streamers and flags are draped above large tables with room for several guests. Natives bustle about, cheerfully offering food and drinks to anyone that wants some. Everyone is welcomed to mingle and greet the new Wanderers on this bright summer morning.

the game: a friendly competition

Among the brightly decorated tables are ones highlighted in a specific color for a specific god house, and most of the gods themselves can be found sitting behind it with a few of their district's natives. They are here to welcome the new Wanderers into Asgard - but they're also here to explain the rules of today's game. There are coins hidden throughout the city and disguised as mundane items, and the god house that returns the most of their coins will win an upgrade to their god housing! No hints will be given, but the natives are excited to help facilitate the activity and happily invite you to wander through their districts to find what you can.

But you don't have to know about the rules to be playing the game! The coins are already hidden throughout the city, and no one knows what they are until they've been picked up. Whether you're banding together with friends to find as many coins as you can or blindly stumbling over an unpleasant surprise, the game and the curse are in full swing!

evening: a fair prize

At sundown, all of the coins in the city disappear at once, whether they're in your pocket or still disguised as a bowl. Points will be tallied and a winner will be announced (OOCly, on August 17) - but Asgardians are keen to celebrate regardless of who wins a rather inconsequential game. The same colorful display of tables and chairs is still spread across the castle grounds, although now they twinkle with fairy lights haphazardly blinking throughout the air. Snacks and drinks are made available, as well as more dinner-shaped meals for those that request it. Mostly the natives simply want to bask in the strangeness of these Wanderers from other worlds for a moment longer - but they're also eagerly listening to any stories from the day's mischievous game. Relax, enjoy yourself, or again, just stock up on some freely served food. Whatever suits your needs today. Welcome to Asgard, dear Wanderers.

[ OOC NOTE: This is the intro log for August, as well as our first god house competition/curse: More Than Meets the Eye. You are free to play with the curse prompts and searching the city in any way you want! If you would like to submit a map to earn points for your god house, please check out the rules to learn what to do. We will accept maps until August 17, at which point a winner will be announced and members of that god house will be allowed to vote for an upgrade to their god housing. As always, please let us know if you have any questions or need any help on the mod contact page. Enjoy, friends! ]

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[ He looks down at his shirt, pulling it up a little to try and cover the scarring on his chest. He could swear he just got those wounds a few hours ago, but they're all healed up like they've been there for years. ]

No one here. [ He shakes his head, his hair still matted with some of the same dark blood as well. ] I went home for a while. It's been months for me, though I know it hasn't been that long here. [ He does look a little older, rougher and not quite so boyish anymore though there's a certain vulnerability to him now, on his face and in his eyes, that he used to hide behind a veneer of toughness. ] Just...got in some trouble.

[ He's hesitant to admit that he's dead. He still doesn't want to believe it himself, although he remembers his vision fading and the pain receding as his consciousness began to slip away. And then he was here. ]

[ He looks older, and she looks much the same. A little softer, perhaps, than that first day they met; she doesn't wear her hair back in countless braids, allowing more of it to settle around her shoulders. And he... he's more of that blood on him, she belatedly realizes, caught in his hair, streaked about in unexpected places.

Slowly, she'll reach to press the pads of her fingers to his shirt (if he lets her, and if not, she'll allow that hand to drop back to her side). ]

Is it yours, or... the trouble's?

[ Something else she notices: he's less of that bluster to him. He looks like a man just returned from a war he never asked for. ]

Come on.

[ He flinches when she touches him, but he doesn't pull away. He's just numb, where the scars are. Can't feel anything there at all. ]

Mine. [ He sighs, his eyes closed. ] But for what it's worth, I think I gave 'em hell, too.

[ The shirt reeks of blood, and is starting to stick to his chest when he moves. He's going to have to see his scars eventually, right? He lifts the shirt up, pulling it over his head and crumpling it into a ball in his hand. He has claw scars above his hips on both sides where the creature grabbed him, and a bigger scar on his chest where it pierced his heart. He's seen the edges of those scars but can't bring himself to look at the full extent of the damage just yet, so he keeps his eyes closed. ] Does it look bad?

[ It's still wet enough to leave a sticky residue on her fingers. Of course, that makes her pulse skitter, concern over him bleeding out rushing to the forefront of her mind. It's his, he says, but perhaps not all of it?

When he lifts his shirt, her composure briefly crumbles. Her features twist as her gaze roves over his torso. The marks above his hips don't make much sense to her, and they're far less... vivid than the one on his chest. It reminds her of Jon's scar: puckered and angry looking. It's still bloodied.

No one could survive a knife to the heart. Her eyes lift, to meet his; she's glad he keeps his closed, so she's a moment to regather herself. ]

It's difficult to tell with the blood. [ It's not her place to lie to him. Not about this. That doesn't mean she won't delay it, especially out in public. ] I've learned some about cleaning and stitching wounds after my husband died. Would you like me to tend to it?

[ He opens his eyes, but he doesn't look down just yet. In his mind he still has his perfect, toned chest that he took so much pride in and if he could have that for a little while longer, he would.

He nods. ] Alright. [ He knows how it probably looks, especially mixed in with the blood from his shirt, but it doesn't actually feel that bad. Uncomfortable, more than anything, but his bones aren't broken and his heart is beating like it should be. ]

It doesn't hurt anymore, so don't worry about that. [ He's mostly just worried that she'll be grossed out at what she sees once it's all cleaned up. He'd hate for someone to be disgusted with him like that. ] Sorry about your husband.

[ Why's he sorry? It's not his fault, it just seems like the right thing to say. He's not really used to this whole being nice to people business yet. ]

[ That just leaves her feeling tired. Whatever happened to him upon his return home (how that's even possible, she doesn't know) is beyond her control — just as whatever he chose to do in his world, or what he chooses to do here, is, as well. ]

Don't be, it was years ago. [ And complicated... oh so very complicated. ] If he didn't die, I wouldn't have my dragons. And if I didn't have my dragons... the world where I come from hates little girls.

[ She watches him for a beat, gaze steady and never straying from his eyes. Then she inclines her head and turns away, expecting him to follow her. ]

So we'll stop the bleeding and keep it from becoming infected.

Okay. [ He follows, crumpled shirt still in hand. As much as he doesn't want to carry that bloodstained shirt he also doesn't want to just throw it away. ]

It wasn't a dragon. [ Hearing her mention the dragons makes him think of that monstrosity that killed him. He could have used a dragon of his own. ] But it was just as big as one.

[ He might be rambling a bit incoherently; he still can't believe he's here and alive and walking around with nothing but some bloody marks on his chest. ]

Good, one less encounter to ruin your taste for them before you meet mine. [ She spares him a lingering look, eyes slightly narrowed. ] What could possibly be as big as a dragon?

[ That's near impossible to comprehend. The one which attacked them here was larger than she's ever seen... and if that's Billy's "trouble," then it's a terrible understatement. His wounds speak to that.

Before long, they've made it to Sigyn's district, and even faster than she realizes, they stand outside the cabin she's housed in. ]

I doubt the others are here. Come in.

It was just...corpses. Melted together. A lot of them. [ And as far as he knows he might be one of them now, although he's hoping that rejecting its influence has spared him from becoming a sentient puddle of goo.

He breathes a sigh of relief when she says that they'll probably be alone. The last thing he needs is more people gawking at him like...

...Like they did when he was possessed. Fearful and confused. And to think, before the last few days all he ever wanted was to be feared. ]

Are yours here?

[ Corpses melted together. That earns him a long, lingering look. His dead sound like her world's dead... but not. Melted together — couldn't be by fire, for that kills the dead far as she knows. She'd seen it, seen how the flames shattered the Night King's hold. ]

I wish they were. [ There's a note of yearning in her voice: a mother missing her children. There and gone so quickly, as she opens the door and gestures for him to follow her inside.

She'll lead him into the bathroom (still a strange thing to call it), where he's welcome to sit wherever it pleases him. As for her, she's gathering cloths from beneath the sink, allowing clean water to flow into the basin. ] I didn't realize the dead could still walk in your world, as well.

So you faced this creature alone?

They usually can't. They were being controlled by...something. [ Something Billy's been possessed by but still doesn't quite understand what it is. He sits down near the sink, letting out a deep breath. ]

It was going to kill my sister. And El. [ And he stood next to no chance against the monster, as strong as he was. Two little kids would be torn apart in no time. ] I don't know if either of them made it out okay.

Or someone. We have something like that in my world. Wights and the Night King. He controls an army of the dead.

[ Wringing out one of the rags, she steps closer to him, careful as she reaches to cup his jaw with one hand. This isn't her role, not typically, but as long as he allows her to touch him, she'll go about carefully wiping his face clean, first. ]

El — you mean Eleven? [ She hadn't realized... they were both from the same world? He knew Mike and Eleven? ] She's here. Perhaps she'll recall.

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AUGUST INTRO LOG: MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

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