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. |
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asgardchrysalis2020-02-16 10:08 pm
no subject
Soundproofing the room might be a good idea, however. For Malcolm's sake, at least. As private a person as he is, Hannibal can't imagine it's very comfortable for him, knowing that passersby might be witness to his unpleasant dreams.
"How are you finding life here? Perhaps it's making your dreams worse."
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Anything that doesn't put his focus on his father and his crimes.
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"Casework?" He glances sideways, as if he might see out into the heart of the city and the actions of the people within. "Is there not a comparable line of work here that you could find if you miss it?"
Magic though the place evidently has in abundance, Hannibal doubts it is a peaceful utopia. Nothing ever is.
no subject
Which should be good. Malcolm should be happy about this, as a normal, well-adjusted person. He's not entirely normal and well-adjusted though. He misses keeping his mind occupied with solving crime.
"I suppose I could look at the magic here as a puzzle to solve," he says, "or try to see if I can find a way for all of us to be able to go home."
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"Is that what you'd prefer? To return to your home and leave this world of magic and wonder?" Hannibal's curious, his expression one of interest without judgment. "I wonder how many currently living would say the some. Surely some of them would refuse to go back."
The corner of his mouth turns up. "Though if you can solve the puzzle and return home, I imagine you could make your old life whatever you wished it to be."
no subject
Malcolm shrugs, thinking about Hannibal's question. "It's a pretty amazing place, but I've got work to do at home." He has to figure out about the girl in the box, and he has to put Watkins away, now that he's realized that he's the Junkyard Killer. Of course, he may also be lying dead in the man's woodshed right now. There's no real way to tell.
"What do you mean?" he asks. "Do you think the magic would go home with me?"
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Sleight of hand. Illusion. Those are readily available. But magic the likes of which one might read about in fiction? Not even a little.
"I suppose it depends on what precisely it is and how we manipulate it. If it's simply the energy of the world and we're learning how to touch and use it, perhaps you could very well take those skills with you. Energy is present everywhere." He spares a thoughtful glance to the odd bracelets they'd been given. Although he's tried to figure it out, he has as yet been unsuccessful. "If these gods have changed us in some fundamental way, it might still be possible. Though if it stems wholly from them, I imagine it will be as lost to us if we leave."
no subject
He shifts up on the bed so that he can lean back against the wall, accidentally rattling the chains of his restraints in the process. "It's something I can put my mind to while I'm here at least," he says. A puzzle to solve. Without something to think about, his demons have a tendency to try and swallow him whole.