Tag Archives: queenfrigga

That’s called a galaxy…: As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

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That’s called a galaxy…: As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

liesmith-loki:

janelikesfosters:

siffed:

liesmith-loki:

queen-frigga:

thundering-god:

Thor frowned, watching his father with something like sympathy etched onto his face.  ”Farewell, then, father.”  He called after him, keeping his hammer steady in his hand so it would continue to heal the rift within his brother.  His body would still need to be tended to, of course.  He figured it would only be a matter of time before Sif and Jane returned.

“Thank you.” his wife murmured back and squeezed his tired hand in reassurance at his last words.

She backed away, touch still lingering but ultimately let go. She would return to him as soon as their son was safe enough.

Loki lay still again under the magics, the rift in his spirit slowly being coaxed closed again.
Cat climbed down off the bed and went to Thor, rubbing along his ankles and making hoarse little noises. 

It took a moment or two for Sif to get her bearings in the vehicle — she was not used to travel by means other than foot or horse. “Right,” she replied, peering into the night.

It was not long before she had directed Jane to Loki’s flat, and very nearly left the car before it had completely stopped. 

Jane definitely broke several traffic laws on the way to Loki’s apartment, swerving around cars, speeding as much as she could when one was driving in New York City. She parked in front of the apartment building, glad that there was free parking, at least, and hopped out of the car.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if she could’ve gotten anything to soothe any of Loki’s pain, but they’d worry about that later – right now it was more important to just make sure they got him bandaged up enough to worry about him being in pain.

((Summer is up, unless you’d like to pass))

[I think I’m silent until I’m noticed on the stairs :|]

As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

siffed:

liesmith-loki:

justaskfreyja:

odinborsonallfather:

queen-frigga:

As soon as that awful ragged quality of his breath went don’t Frigga collapsed in a nearby chair. 

Hoping for Sif’s quick return with medical supplies so that she might actually be useful and not just another person taking air, she scooted a little closer and gingerly placed a hand on Loki’s less injured one.

The cat had made it’s way up to him and was near her elbow, so she attempted an almost unconscious pet over it’s fine dark fur.

Her eyes went to Odin as he spoke.

Odin calmed slightly once Thor was beside him.  He watched as Freyja’s spell eased Loki’s ragged breathing, mending the torn lung within his chest.  He eased off from the strenuous pulling of his energies, dimming the glow around his son, but not releasing it.  The battle against Loki’s failing body was nearly over, but the war was not yet done.

“Thor,” Odin turned his eye to his other son, “I’m going to try to transfer the spell to you.”  He caught the quizzical look in the thunderer’s eye and attempted to clarify.  “Loki’s body is healing, but there is more damage done to him than that—I am sure you know.”

He held out a hand and grasped Thor by the shoulder, supporting himself slightly as he continued his explanation.  “The properties of the Odin-Sleep help to unify the spiritual power of the Odin-Force within my body and anchor it into the physical plane,” he looked down at Loki.  “I can only hope it might have some of the same effect when it is transferred.  I cannot continue to serve as the conduit between the forces,” he flexed his hand, and the darkened veins appeared starkly in contrast with the pale skin, “but if I were to have Mjolnir connect the energies, it may give the spell more time, and ensure his spirit stays moored in this world.”

He hoped he could be understood.  A severed soul was no mere wound, but a lasting fissure that would most likely not be solved with magic, no matter how ancient or powerful—but at least he could ensure the pieces stayed in place.  As Odin felt the forces of his own spirit and the spirit of the royal line flow within him, mixing and swirling in his blood, he granted his heart a moment of empathy.  “Loki is not the only one to have suffered a crowded self,” he murmured.

Freyja took a step back as Thor entered the room, her head giving a soft dip. Her hand landed on Frigga’s slim shoulder, squeezing softly. Her fingers were still warm from the use of magic, spreading into her queen’s skin and hoping she could provide some comfort; if only in the form of the easier breathing of their son. She stroked her fingers gently over the black cat as it crawled up Loki’s legs and curled itself between them, giving the gathered room a dismissive look.

She hoped for Sif’s quick return, but instead sat near the queen. Her nails made comforting path’s over her shoulders and back, looking up to Odin and Thor. The golden helm she had arrived wearing found itself discarded on top of Loki’s mostly empty dresser, her duties forgotten.

The cat paused near Loki’s shins, nosing the ragged leather before mincing around the still body to Frigga, rubbing his lithe little self against her arm.

Loki’s breathing hitched once or twice but he slept on in the faint golden glow. 

The floor of Stark Tower was just as they’d left it, broken and half-demolished, rubble everywhere. And no Jane in sight. There was no time for this, Sif knew, and she would leave without the mortal woman if she could not find her quickly.

One more floor, then, for more bandages would surely be useful, and Jane’s presence might aid Thor in ways others could not. Sif veritably stabbed at the button to the elevator, as though pressing harder would make it return faster. It did not take long at all to go up one more floor.

“Jane?” she called again, voice echoing off the walls.

Rock-steady and ignoring everything around her, Summer kept broadcasting, love and comfort and hope, reaching for every mind in Loki’s flat. She couldn’t know how much she was helping, but she couldn’t not try, either.

As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

siffed:

liesmith-loki:

justaskfreyja:

odinborsonallfather:

queen-frigga:

Freyja’s words settled her a little but she kept herself near her injured son and the other woman. It was horrible to be this useless. Perhaps later she would attempt to heal but… she could feel her knees going soft and eyes itching as her body finally felt the exhaustion take hold.

There was some sort of commotion at the door and a shift of emotions but it all seemed to settle down shortly.

A small black feline itched it’s way closer to the towering strangers.

“Thor,” Odin called his other son to his side, no room in his tone for argument.  Though he did not remove his eye from the challenging stare he levelled at Freyja, a tremor ran through his hand, and the golden light around his son flickered for the briefest of moments.

Odin grimaced, willing his connection to the spell to hold on, watching as the slow rise and fall of Loki’s chest gave him a sign that his son was there for that much longer—one breath, then another.  He could feel a chilled pain begin to spread outward from his chest and through his arm as he forced more of his power into the transferred Odin-Sleep.  Odin was drawing too deeply, and as he watched the veins in his hand darken through the skin, lacing down like spreading branches to his fingertips, he knew it would take a grievous toll on him—but it had to hold.

“Thor, come here,” he insisted, barely able to indicate the spot beside the bed.  There was a chance, he thought distantly, but it was hardly a plan, and even then it would only scratch the surface.

Gently, Freyja stepped forward once more. Her fingers left their resting place on Loki’s cheek, instead bringing both hands up to lay gently on the great king’s. She reached deep inside herself, seeking down into her pool of magic and bringing a slow draw from it. By the tiniest increments, the glow was tinged with a soft blue.

After several moments of standing very still, eyes lightly closed; Freyja stumbled. She breathed heavily, but paused it to hear the slow rise and fall of Loki’s chest. Sure enough, there was a less ragged note to the air that fell out of the battered prince’s lips.

She looked into the single glowering eye of the All-father for just a moment before gently lowering her head, turning and seating herself quietly at the foot of the bed. She waited there now, not as a collector of souls, but as a concerned friend.

“He should live, he can breathe again.”

Loki’s breaths indeed were coming easier—the force or Frejya’s and Odin’s combined touch had gently healed up the failing lung, punctured as it had been by the sharp edge of a shattered rib.  He had bled elsewhere inside, now, and those deadly trickles had ebbed and stopped.

Cat dodged feet and made a beeline for Loki, clawing his way up the blankets at the foot of the bed before scampering along the sheets towards his person. 

Sif’s search of her room was fast and frenzied — when she’d finished, no healing stone to be found, the chamber looked as though a whirlwind had hit it. Still, she’d come up with needle, thread, bandages, tape, potent Asgardian tea herbs, and what remained of a bottle of mead. It would have to be enough.

With her bag on her shoulder, she made for Stark Tower once more. She knew not where to look for Jane Foster, or if JARVIS was busy elsewhere, unable to aid her. She took the elevator to the semi-demolished floor they’d left, for she could think of no other place to start. “Jane?”

No luck. Heart aching, Summer slumped on the stairs outside Loki’s door, unwilling to be driven away entirely. What worth an empath, indeed? She could feel his pain, physical, blood-red and oddly muffled; could feel the anguish of the several people inside. Death hovered, shadow-winged, then retreated along with some of Loki’s pain.

She didn’t know what had happened. He’d been gone for a while, and that was all she knew. Trying not to cry, pressing her lips together, Summer settled down to wait, watching the door and projecting love and comfort as hard as she could into Loki’s tiny flat.

As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

ask-the-gatekeeper:

siffed:

liesmith-loki:

odinborsonallfather:

queen-frigga:

thundering-god:

Thor cast a lingering glance back at those in Stark Tower, and the destruction that had been wrought, before following Sif to Loki’s apartment— the location of which had stayed a mystery up to now.  If the apartment had been small before, it was positively minature when stuffed with five Asgardians.

He happened to be the closest to the door when there came a knock upon it, not a moment after they had all filed into the apartment.  Adding a frown to his already grim countenance, he cracked the door open, unwilling to allow whatever mortal had decided to pester them witness the unusual company Loki was holding.  His expression didn’t shift an iota as he eyed Summer.  ”Yes?”

There had been no words spoken the whole trip to Loki’s lodgings. Frigga would steal glances at everyone but was too tired to actually do anything. She took comfort in her husbands intervention.

As they settled, the mother took her place by her sons side, keeping watch for any signs of pain or consciousness. Her heart was too broken to even notice her surroundings properly.

She did not even hear someone at the door, nor did she care much really.

The shadows of the room fell irregularly as the All-Father placed the body down gently, the warm light still shimmering around his form.  He traced his wizened hand beside Loki’s cheek, just shy of touching it, brushing aside disheveled strands of hair in a slow, lingering motion.  For a moment, Odin simply breathed.

“I’ve cast a form of the Odin-Sleep over him,” he addressed the rest of the room, his shoulders sagging as he supported himself over Loki’s body.  “It should block the pain and keep him in stasis for now,” his brow trembled, an indication of the effort, “but I cannot hold this spell for long.”

His fingers hovered over his son’s still hand, a motion he remembered receiving when he himself had been struck down by the deep sleep.  “I must not stay,” he drew his hand back, reluctant.

Freyja found herself in the small apartment complex without much announcement of her presence, wearing the golden helm representative of her duties. She stepped through the small shattered door and surveyed the room, feeling inside it a soul close to death. While the battle had happened on Midgard, she had still come to collect those who may have fallen, and it seemed she had come none too soon. She stepped gracefully into the bedroom, eyes cool as she looked down at Loki, laid low as he was. Her voice though, held still its usual notes of tenderness as she looked up and spoke to Odin.

“You may return; the boy will find his destination, where ever it lies.” Even in collecting the dead, Freyja could not shake herself of Love. She extended a hand, brushing it softly over Loki’s battered cheek, ice melting away from her eyes as she felt the breath still rattling through him.

—

Cat squirmed in Summer’s grasp, protesting in a high, strident voice.   He paused when Thor spoke, staring at the God of Thunder out of startlingly familiar vivid green eyes.

Thanks to Odin’s spell Loki slept on, and the sleep was blessedly untroubled by either physical pain or nightmare.  He lay unprotesting on the bed, still dressed in the tatters of his armour, bruises looking a little less dire under the golden glow of Odin’s magic.

All Sif could think in the crowded room was how she wished Loki could see them all and know the strength of friendship and family that surrounded him. He would name them all Friend of Thor, and no relation to him, but here they were.

To her, it was too crowded, too close. Too many bodies vying for the same small space. She felt raw, nerve endings frazzled, like the smallest sounds made her jump out of her skin and she could not breathe.

She sought Thor, her only true conscious friend in the room, in the world. “We may be in need of supplies,” she told him in a low voice, standing near the door, “I shall fetch them from — ” of course they would need supplies — the Odinsleep (Lokisleep) would be temporary, and she would not lose him to death again. Nor would Thor, she knew. “I shall fetch them.”

The master bedroom was crowded enough so Heimdall stayed in the living room, knowing that the first faces Loki should see first had to be his family’s and dearest. He looked up at the sound of the knock and gazed through the door to see a girl holding a cat. Knowing that she posed no threat, he turned his attention away from her. She had unusually timing and he hoped that the disruption went unnoticed by the others.

The moment the door opened, Summer knew /exactly/ what had caused that ill-at-ease feeling. Her mouth had been open to speak, and the force of all the swirling emotions within struck her like a blow, driving the breath out of her lungs. Only years of hard-fought control enabled her to wrest up shields like walls of adamantium, and the tingles running up her spine foretold trouble if she didn’t burn off soon.

Dragging in a ragged breath, she offered Macrowafter to the towering blond figure filling the door. “I … this is Loki’s cat. I’m his friend. Please, is he okay? Is there /anything/ I can do?”

Inane, ordinary, human question. She knew he wasn’t okay.

collect your courage: As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

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collect your courage: As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

siffed:

liesmith-loki:

odinborsonallfather:

queen-frigga:

thundering-god:

Thor cast a lingering glance back at those in Stark Tower, and the destruction that had been wrought, before following Sif to Loki’s apartment— the location of which had stayed a mystery up to now.  If the apartment had been small before, it was positively minature when stuffed with five Asgardians.

He happened to be the closest to the door when there came a knock upon it, not a moment after they had all filed into the apartment.  Adding a frown to his already grim countenance, he cracked the door open, unwilling to allow whatever mortal had decided to pester them witness the unusual company Loki was holding.  His expression didn’t shift an iota as he eyed Summer.  ”Yes?”

[<.< >.> whose turn is it?]

As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

ask-the-gatekeeper:

siffed:

liesmith-loki:

odinborsonallfather:

queen-frigga:

After the standoff in the small shop Frigga had hurried outside just as Loki had reappeared alone and taunted the two men. She had been lost in the confusion and left behind as Heimdall and the Man of Iron ran (or flew) towards the big tower she had been welcomed in.

The crowd of people had been quickly dispersed by what she assumed were this world’s guards. The men in blue cam up to her, hands raised holding some sort of grey oddly shaped piece of metal pointed at her. Seeing her being just as confused and distressed as the previous onlookers, they had taken her in.

She had asked to be taken to the tall tower but they had refused calling it a “danger zone”. They would not listen to reason and not even a few minutes later some men dressed in suits similar to Loki’s had requested her accompanying them. Something felt off and she felt the lie as they promised to take her to the tower.

Summoning her magic and with great effort she had slipped into the shadows and melted away from them. Unfortunately all she could muster was barely a few blocks.

As they stared searching for her she ran as fast as she could trying to take the most direct path to the building her son was in.

She had to change paths and dodge the would-be captors pursuit many times, all the while new signs of abuse showing in the tower’s upper levels whenever she could chance a glance at it.

Eventually reaching the Stark tower she almost stumbled into more men in dark suits and was forced to further drain her magic by making herself unseen while she weaved her way between those great metal steeds… cars and trying not to bump into the plethora of Midgardians.

Shifting through the walls also weakened her, but she would not allow obstacles.

The mechanical traveling room took her as far up as it deemed safe, the rest Frigga would foot by herself.

Exhausted and slightly panting, the Queen reached into the disaster of a room which was left after the battle. Leaning on the ashen remains of a wall she dreaded the worst. She was too late. The only thing she caught was a fading glimpse of Odin’s golden magic and Thor’s word.

“Where…” her voice was shallow and strained.

Odin hardly heard Thor’s voice, or anyone else’s—everything around him seemed muted, faded from his sight except the battered body pressed close to his chest.  With a hesitant hand and an unreadable expression his face, he wiped away the bloodied tear streaks from the eyes of his boy—his boy, for in his arms, though broken and bruised, Odin could not help but see the babe he had rescued from the cold winds of Jotunheim so many years ago as he poured warmth over his flesh.  The protective spell never wavered, though Odin knew this one could only be a temporary relief from the damage Loki had suffered.

He looked down at his feet where Sif knelt, and forced his throat to utter a single command, simple and urgent, but masking a well of something deeper he would not allow to be released.

“Lead,” he ordered.

Loki’s apartment was unlocked—he still had not had the mechanism repaired, so the door opened to the lightest touch of Sif’s hand.  The small parlor beyond the room was dark and bare, save for the couch, coffee table and shelf with a small, precious collection of books.  The kitchen opening off to the right was likewise dark and lonely looking.  The door to the bedroom was straight ahead—and Loki’s bedchamber was as sober and empty as the rest of the flat.  His narrow bed was neatly made, and the dark curtains were drawn over the window, though it did little enough to block out the sounds and lights of the city beyond. 

Exhausted though she was, Sif did not hesitate to follow the order of her King. She had drawn herself to her feet with another bow of acquiescence and strode toward the door, sheathing her sword, wiping sweat and dirt and blood from her forehead.

Loki’s darkened flat was grim and desolate to her eyes, so very very far from the shining and lush warmth of home, so dark where Asgard glowed. She moved straight to the bedroom, holding the door open for the Allfather and his charge, pulling the sheets back on the narrow and unwelcoming bed.

Though the journey back to Loki’s apartment was a quiet, sober one, Heimdall could feel the emotions coming off of the Asgardians. So much pain each of them had gone through to this point, physical, psychological and emotional. But he knew they could overcome it, even Loki. They needed it to turn out alright.

Once everyone filed into the apartment, Heimdall closed the front door lightly, noticing that the damage he inflicted upon still had not been fixed. Any other time, he would have found it amusing. But not now.

[I’mma just slip in here … ]

Summer might not have even noticed Macrowafter if she hadn’t been feeling ill-at-ease all day. As usual, this manifested in a total inability to sit still, and she’d been pacing in and out of the flat for the last hour. Then Macrowafter showed up, gravely parading down the staircase, and she coaxed him into her arms as a feeble distraction from whatever was buzzing in the back of her senses.

Marching up the stairs bearing a feebly protesting Cat, she rapped sharply at Loki’s door.

As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

Link

As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP

odinborsonallfather:

queen-frigga:

thundering-god:

siffed:

janelikesfosters:

liesmith-loki:

ask-hela:

Hela stiffened as Odin materialized, a hot flush of fury creeping over her, but she clenched her fists and breathed, forcing it back. Loki, Pepper, and Pepper’s family – their well-being was more important.

She placed her hand back on Pepper’s shoulder. “Everything will be all right,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “I promise, Pepper. Tell me what you need, and I will help you.”

Loki, even as the Odin-spelled sleep claimed him, cried out as he was touched and lifted—but moments later he was deep in dreaming, far beyond the conscious reach of pain.

Jane watched – again, it was more like she stared – at everything going on around her. Thor had asked for bandages, which she could absolutely get, but she was torn between running to get them and waiting to see if anything else was needed.

There were a lot of things that were needed right now, but she couldn’t really get many of them. For now, she’d stick to bandages.

“I’ll get Happy, Pepper,” she said. “You worry about yourself and Tony.” She was stepping out of the room again before she could say anything else, running off to call Happy – his number had to be somewhere, right? – and get whatever she thought might be useful or helpful, but she didn’t think there was much she could get at the moment.

Odin materializing before them shocked even Sif, who in all her many years had never seen the All-Father appear seemingly out of nowhere. She blinked, remaining on her knees out of respect or sheer amazement, she could not have said. Her torn cloak lay forgotten in her trembling hands.

It would be alright. The golden glow was a boon, a literal Godsend. She felt herself breathe again and finally, finally, slouched where she sat, limp.

Thor had just begun to protest JARVIS’ words when Odin’s golden glow enveloped them and Loki was lifted away from him.  His mouth fell open in pure shock, eyes going wide as he looked up at his father.  Relief flooded him just as the godly glow flooded the room, along with the sharp tang of something deeper as he witnessed Odin lift Loki’s beleaguered form into his arms.  He pushed himself to his feet, swallowing thickly.  ”Father…”

After the standoff in the small shop Frigga had hurried outside just as Loki had reappeared alone and taunted the two men. She had been lost in the confusion and left behind as Heimdall and the Man of Iron ran (or flew) towards the big tower she had been welcomed in.

The crowd of people had been quickly dispersed by what she assumed were this world’s guards. The men in blue cam up to her, hands raised holding some sort of grey oddly shaped piece of metal pointed at her. Seeing her being just as confused and distressed as the previous onlookers, they had taken her in.

She had asked to be taken to the tall tower but they had refused calling it a “danger zone”. They would not listen to reason and not even a few minutes later some men dressed in suits similar to Loki’s had requested her accompanying them. Something felt off and she felt the lie as they promised to take her to the tower.

Summoning her magic and with great effort she had slipped into the shadows and melted away from them. Unfortunately all she could muster was barely a few blocks.

As they stared searching for her she ran as fast as she could trying to take the most direct path to the building her son was in.

She had to change paths and dodge the would-be captors pursuit many times, all the while new signs of abuse showing in the tower’s upper levels whenever she could chance a glance at it.

Eventually reaching the Stark tower she almost stumbled into more men in dark suits and was forced to further drain her magic by making herself unseen while she weaved her way between those great metal steeds… cars and trying not to bump into the plethora of Midgardians.

Shifting through the walls also weakened her, but she would not allow obstacles.

The mechanical traveling room took her as far up as it deemed safe, the rest Frigga would foot by herself.

Exhausted and slightly panting, the Queen reached into the disaster of a room which was left after the battle. Leaning on the ashen remains of a wall she dreaded the worst. She was too late. The only thing she caught was a fading glimpse of Odin’s golden magic and Thor’s word.

“Where…” her voice was shallow and strained.

Odin hardly heard Thor’s voice, or anyone else’s—everything around him seemed muted, faded from his sight except the battered body pressed close to his chest.  With a hesitant hand and an unreadable expression his face, he wiped away the bloodied tear streaks from the eyes of his boy—his boy, for in his arms, though broken and bruised, Odin could not help but see the babe he had rescued from the cold winds of Jotunheim so many years ago as he poured warmth over his flesh.  The protective spell never wavered, though Odin knew this one could only be a temporary relief from the damage Loki had suffered.

He looked down at his feet where Sif knelt, and forced his throat to utter a single command, simple and urgent, but masking a well of something deeper he would not allow to be released.

“Lead,” he ordered.

status report, troops

ask-hela:

proceedorderly:

Ok so I realize that I’m about the only one from last night up because PACKING OMG FUNTIMES but I got a message from Frigga so the current order is:

Loki  > Sif > Thor > Frigga > Jarvis > Odin > Pepper > Hela

IF the groups split off I assume it’ll be Loki > Sif > Thor > Frigga > Odin

Plus another thread of Jarvis > Pepper > Hela

So you can go now, Frigga.  Tony, when/if you have time to come in, shoot someone a message.  Probably me, if I continue being able to connect during moving.

(I know this sounds insane that I’m doing this during moving, but give me this one thing because oh god the boxes.)

((Sounds like a plan! And good luck packing, yeesh. >.<

FYI – I’ll be offline for a while later in today; friend got laid off yesterday and I am kidnapping her for MarioKart and Ben & Jerry’s therapy.))

[I know I’m not worthy, and this is already a glorious tale with so many players, and yet I want to participate SO BADLY. *creys*]

re: looking for rp partners

daughterofthesun-synne:

daughterofthesun-synne:

rightfulprince:

daughterofthesun-synne:

rightfulprince:

daughterofthesun-synne:

[I want to take this character on a story arc that echoes Persephone’s journey through the underworld, and I want her to get there because evil!Loki sends her there. But I need a Loki! Any takers?]

Hey, I’d be interested! Although I know nothing about the plotline at all. Want to fill me in? (I do so enjoy playing evil Loki…)

[It’s the greek myth of the rape of Persephone I want to emulate. In short: evil!Loki or dark!Loki gets so annoyed with Synne’s cheer and desire to help him, he sends her to Helheim as a gift to his daughter Hela. (I’ve already contacted ask-hela about this.) Hela is of course bewildered at this gift, and Synne meets various other personae while wandering about Helheim (I’ve contacted wildlingking about this part). While she’s down there, she develops feelings for Hela, who may or may not return them. I expect at some point dark!Loki will discover she’s not exactly miserable in Helheim, and take steps. I … am not entirely sure what the end result is going to be; I want to write it and find out.]

Ahhh, I absolutely love tales like this, and I’ve been wanting to roleplay with ask-hela and wildlingking for ages! I would love to join in on this, definitely! That is, if no other Loki wants to do it and you don’t mind my writing?

I’m sure a conclusion will find itself, it’s always fun to see where it all goes. And thank you for offering this to me <3

[*glomp* You responded wanting to, of course I want you <3 I’m still doing some set up so it’ll be a little while before writing starts]

[Tagging some peeps in hopes they see this: @theshininggate, @odinborsonallfather, @queen-frigga, @ask-the-valkyrie, @ofironandwood, @ask-sleipnir, @asgardsfinest — I would like more folk to meet up with Synne in Helheim, so if you are willing, or know someone who would be willing or appropriate, please let me know!]