asgardswisdom | ODIN'S TEMPLE

[ It's decided. They'll continue to gather the souls - however Honir is managing to do it, and however many continue to arrive - then when they're ready, they'll raise them. In however many meanings of the word it takes.

And they thought dealing with the humans would be a challenge. The Allfather - as they'll be calling him now, he supposes - sighs.

He doesn't expect anyone to hear the sound, especially not here. This is his realm, his "temple": structure and chaos, silence buried beneath thundering noise. The rattlings of a busy mind. He doesn't expect anyone to simply enter that space like they belong there.

And then there's Frigg. Odin opens his eyes (how long were they closed? is a "time" a thing they're supposed to be tracking now?) with a faint smile already in place for her. ]

You've found me out. Am I in trouble?

[ Did we make the right choice? Perish the thought. ]

Edited 2019-06-08 04:10 (UTC)

You're surprisingly easy to find, even when you think you aren't, Odin.

[Frigg says lightly, coming to a stop beside him. It figures Odin would be here, where none of the new souls would dare to treat just yet.]

What do you think you're in trouble for, exactly?

[ There's a faint 'hmm' of consideration as he looks back towards the rumbling waterfall in the distance. ]

I can only imagine. Although I suppose that's sort of my job now, with this whole "king" business.

[ He glances sidelong to her with a quirk of his lips, an unspoken "don't fuck it up, right?" ].

[Oh, honestly. Frigg holds back a sigh, just barely. Leave it to Odin to carry this weight on his own, like a fool.]

"King" you might be, but you are still one of many of us. Or did you think you'd be managing our city all by yourself, hmm?

Stop fretting so. Caring for these new mortals is new, yes, but with all these powers at our disposal, we'll find a balance soon enough.

[ As she speaks, he angles his body towards her, attention fully drawn to her words and the way she says them. ]

A balance. Now that would be nice, wouldn't it?

[ Dubious, but humorously so. He does actually sigh then, a small smile still curling on his lips. ]

How do you think the others will fare with this new charge of ours?

These mortals are...different from the ones we've grown used to.

[Now she gives him an answering smile, warm and fond.]

We can only guess how they and the others will adapt. You cannnot tell how a tree will grow simply by looking at its seed, as you well know.

[after breaking the awful news to his brother about the lack of coffee (and alcohol), klaus has decided at least one of those must be remedied. they may not be able to get liquor back so easily, but coming with an appeal for caffeine to the head man in charge would be easier for sure, right? and especially if there's more than one person doing so.

lucky rhys, he gets to be the second chosen, hooked by his robotic arm and lead all the way to odin's temple, despite any protests he may have. much to his delight, there are very little, and they're actually discussing some espresso stuff when they reach their destination where klaus abruptly pauses.] Damn, look at all the life in this place.

[he loosens his hold on rhys's arm, approaches the nearest bunch of flowers and reaches to brush his fingertips over the petals. the chirping insects and ambient water sounds are a nice touch, too.] Fancy as fuck, man. No wonder they call this guy the Allfather.

[following a glance back toward his copartner,] D'ya think he'll just appear? Or should we [a beat] pray? Can't promise I'm gonna be any good at if that does end up being the answer.

[ There had been some protests because, if you ask Rhys, there are better gods to ask for favours. He doesn't trust the gods in general, but Odin definitely makes him more uneasy than the others.

But here they are now, and it turns out that, as things usually tend to go, he didn't have much choice in the end.

He makes a face. ]

Praying? You think so?

I'm not sure I even know how praying works.

[ So, clearly, they're off to a great start. ]

[sorry, not sorry, rhys. odin's the big guy and this is a huge request, so go big or go home.

klaus's expression twists, too.] Well, we're in a temple, aren't we? And these are supposed to be gods, [with his emphasis, the quotes are practically tangible.] Dude, I'm agnostic. Do you know what that means? The only reason I'm ever on my knees is not for praying, despite how often "oh God" is also heard during those moments.

Which is usually not from me.

[okay, he's gonna stop now-- rhys has probably gotten the hint. reaching to rub his nape as he's clearing his throat, klaus sighs, glances around then shuffles out of the way a little so he can kneel.] I suppose this would be a start?

[ He's trying to look unimpressed. Really. He tries for a full second. So, okay, it doesn't work out at all. There's a snort first, and then a full out laugh. This guy is a mess. ]

Dude. We're in a temple.

[ But. Sure. Gods are gods, and he doesn't really know what it is people usually do to pray to these particular gods. Maybe they should have asked. Kneeling seems an as good bet as any, though, so down on his knees he goes. ]

[that's putting it mildly, but he'd take the compliment anyhow, to be honest. klaus raises an eyebrow at rhys when he laughs, his own lips quirking slightly, even though he bites his tongue and forces himself to turn away.]

Yeah, I know. That's my bad.

[there is no way he's clasping his hands, so he sets them on his thighs, rubbing his fingertips down to his knees.] Hello, Allfather, [a beat then:] Or do we call him Odin? Jesus fuck me, this is way more difficult than it needs to be.

[wait a tick, didn't tyr say something about—?] Have you got anything to put up as an offering?

[ Klaus only gets a Look this time, for the fucking comment. Still in a temple! And then Rhys just. Frowns, and idly pats down his pockets even if he's pretty sure he has nothing. ]

You didn't say anything about an offering, man.

Sorry, sorry. [ah, this is going swimmingly. klaus's eyebrows knit, he rolls his lips with thought and perks after a moment.] Dude, it's cool, I got this.

[then he reaches into his coat pocket, removes a rather droopy looking yellow flower he'd planned to put into some water and had just. forgotten this morning.] I'm sorry, Odin, we kinda suck with the whole praying thing. Hopefully, this might...make up for it... [please, odin, they're Trying here???]

[ There is no sound or motion to otherwise belie it, but a second later, Klaus' hand will be empty and Odin will be standing behind them holding the wimpy little flower between his fingers. He observes it for a second with a perfectly neutral expression, idly looks around at the vast expanse of wildlife and greenery surrounding them, then turns his deadpanned gaze on the mortals in front of him. ]

You may call me Odin, you don't need to leave an offering, and I'll be more inclined to appear before you if you talk less about fucking.

[ Children. :| ]

[ Of course this bastard would just pop out of thin air right behind them. Couldn't do it in front of them! Noooo.

Rhys jumps with a yelp, and scrambles to get back onto his feet. It takes several seconds. ]

D'you-- have to-- do that?

[immediately, klaus notices that the flower is missing from his fingers, which makes his eyebrows arch with confusion.] Uhhh? [then, of course, odin appears behind them-- and he has a rather similar reaction as rhys.]

Christ on a cracker—! [except he falls flat on his ass after twisting to see the god, heels scuffling, elbows moving to catch himself so he doesn't land completely on his back.] Listen here, buddy – er, Odin! – I'm sorry, the inappropriateness is my bad, don't punish this guy. [a brief gesture toward his partner in crime while he stands as well.] Thank God, because that flower wasn't winning any prizes.

[he snorts, lowers the arm back to his side and puts on his best serious face, even if he's feeling rather intimidated now that they're actually in odin's presence.] But now that you're here, we've... got a request?

[ Even without smiling, there's a faint air of amusement at their reactions. This is his temple, his domain. Everything here is quite intentional. ]

You should perhaps start with that next time.

[ But he's still standing there, patiently waiting to hear what it is with an inscrutable deadpan. ]

[ He takes a good deep breath, and straightens out a little with a sniff of indignation.

Right. If Klaus is going to take the blame for the inappropriateness, Rhys supposes he can make an effort to actually talk. ]

We, uh ... We want coffee. It's-- Do we need to explain what it is? I don't know how this works.

[thanks, rhys, you're a real pal. klaus's just gonna take the extra few seconds to regather himself completely, dusting off his coat and tugging his shirt down, even if it doesn't work all that well. why'd he ever think a crop top was presentable enough? s i g h]

If we have to explain it, I can't promise I'll be able to... do it that well. [a beat] So, if you gotta, you can poke around in my head, I guess.

[ Their persistent awkwardness is both hilarious and time consuming when he has better things to be doing than conjuring menial life amenities for mortals, so Odin gives Klaus a look of appreciation when he jumps right to it. ]

Very well, then.

[ And then he will have two (2) steaming hot cups of coffee in styrofoam cups, complete with a lid and all. He offers one to Klaus and then briefly fixes Rhys with a look of 'why is it always you?' before offering him the other. The coffee is a perfect replica of whatever Klaus would regularly drink at home. ]

Is that all?

[ At least Rhys has the decency to look a little sheepish, but mostly because he really doesn't want to annoy Odin too much. The guy just makes him so uneasy.

This isn't really what they meant, and he will try to clarify in a bit, but the smell of coffee wafts up to his face as soon as he takes the cup and he has to just ... close his eyes and smell that for a moment. God. That's good.

The next moment he shakes his head, and makes another sheepish grimace. ]

Uhm. Thanks, but-- We meant ... permanently. Coffee is ... beans. Brown-ish. And you like ... You can crush them into a powder and mix it with boiling water? Or put it in a filter and pour water through that. And stuff. Then-- Then nobody else will come asking for it because we'll have it. You know?

[ LESS WORK IN THE LONG RUN, ALLPAPA. ]

[that makes two of them, to be quite honest. talking to skadi was far less intimidating than this, but the appreciative look odin gives him whenever klaus just offers up his mind all willy-nilly is. comforting? does that word work? sort of.

the styrofoam cups appearing in odin's hands are far more reassuring than any expression he could've been given.

he inhales slowly, adding a mock-shake to his breath on the sigh out as he reaches for the cup once it's offered and clasps it between his fingers, making a noise not unlike a pleased groan at the warmth, the smell, the everything— and all with a lid on top, even. fancy as hell, but it isn't what he was expecting either. was he supposed to think about beans in particular? whoops!]

Yeah, like, we don't wanna seem ungrateful, this is fantastic, but... we'll need more to replenish ourselves after this. Even if you could just give us a couple containers full of the grounds, that'd tide us over for a bit?

[ He doesn't sigh. In fact, it's hard to say his expression has really changed at all throughout the course of this (albeit brief) conversation. It's more like there's this slight moment, a single second longer than what might've otherwise been a normal pause, where Odin just looks at them after they finish speaking before turning his attention to the other.

What does it mean? Who knows.

So when Klaus finishes speaking, there's a slight pause afterwards that might in some universe have had space for a sigh as Odin glances off towards his garden and back to the mortals again. ]

If you want permanent, you'll want these.

[ He offers Klaus a netted bag of what looks like large, assorted grapes. They're coffee cherries, if either of them would be able to recognize such a thing; Odin doesn't seem keen on specifying what they are or what they're meant to do with them.

Instead, he turns back to Rhys and offers him what looks like a large bag of coffee beans, which it is. ]

But this should "tide you over" for now. Use it wisely.

[ Is it advice? A warning? A lowkey dunk on both of you for think beans count as any kind of long term solution? You guessed it. If he doesn't want to have to field the same request again, then here's what they need. Done and done. ]

You'll want Sigyn's help getting those started, I'm sure. Was that all?

[ A not entirely subtle 'are we done here'?

( And if he's giving the impression that this singular bag of coffee beans is all he's giving them, it's intentional but also false. There'll be about a three-month supply of these bags sitting in their room back at Tyr House; with Sigyn's magic, it shouldn't take that long to get a harvest-able supply of coffee cherry trees.

He's just fucking with them. This one's not that big of a mystery. :') ) ]

[ Even though Rhys has never seen a coffee cherry before (he's a code monkey/middle manager from the late 2860s who grew up in some fancy city okay do you think he's ever seen a farm or whatever it is they use to grow coffee trees okay give him a break), Odin's explanation - if vague - is enough for him to understand that they're supposed to produce coffee. So he takes the bag of coffee beans without protest, and nods a couple of times, perhaps a bit too fast. ]

Sigyn. Right. Got it. Uh, that's all for me at least.

[thanks, odin, he has no idea what the hell he's just been handed. klaus stares at the coffee cherries, contemplatively tips his head one way then the other, mouth opening, closing, opening again and—] Thanks...? [just ignore the faint lilt of confusion at the end there, he's got this.

his free hand reaches out and he clasps rhys's metal arm, fingers cinching tight around his wrist.] Yeah, me too. I'll take these to Sigyn and we'll get the [pause] coffee started.

Thank you. [there is a pause on klaus's end, the slightest moment of hesitation while he contemplates offering his hand for odin to shake, but that'd mean either dropping the cherries or letting go of rhys then regrabbing him afterward. too much movement, he doesn't wanna seem more awkward than he already is because of this stupid silence.]

Uhm. [oh good, another beat before he does a neat heel-turn and begins leading rhys away, voice somewhat high-pitched, way too strained for his liking.] Goodbye, Odin! [to rhys under his breath a second later:] Please, walk as fast as you can.

[She'd gone here, looking for one of the attendants and servants and tried to leave a note, do a clappy prayer session at the temple, ring a bell, burn some incense, or kill an oink beast... depending on what the decision of the last two weeks involved. It didn't matter. She was doing whatever she had to to make sure it was known there was some weirdo in the temple hoping and waiting to get a moment of Odin's time.

So, right now, she was sitting in the garden, avoiding fidgeting for a minute. Somebody really wasn't sure how to broach this, or if she should, but after talking to a few...]

(OOC: So, this is a follow up to this network post and the whole sacrifice incidents. It's a bit more on the slow burn as she tries to convince people to make laws. She wants to talk to him seriously about it. Feel free to take your time.)

[ Odin had said no offerings were needed, so Rhys hasn't gone to the effort of finding one. He does, however, have company in the form of a chicken that has started following him around, that he swears is the one that tried to make his scalp bleed not long ago.

Or, you know, probably not what it intended, but he's still lowkey mad about it.

Anyway, he's here, looking unsure about ... his whole existence, lbr, and also--

Is this temple filled with chickens?

He looks back at his bird-shaped stalker. ]

Look at that, you have some friends.

[ He shakes his head, pauses for a moment, and then clears his throat. ]

Uh. Hey, Odin? I'd like to talk to you, if you ... have a few minutes. I have a couple of questions and a ... suggestion-slash-request.

[ Odin appears as he always does: suddenly, silently, and with some measure of distance between them. At least time he's in front of Rhys - but sat in a lounge chair with his hands folded across his lap as he looks expectantly at the human.

There's another chair directly behind Rhys again too, but Odin makes no note of it and simply says: ]

Very well.

[ Even if it's right in front of him and he knew it was coming, he still jumps a little, with a quiet sound of surprise/discomfort. Then, he clears his throat. ]

One day I'll get used to that.

[ The chicken doesn't seem bothered at all, making content clucking noises as it walks around his feet inspecting the ground. ]

Okay, so, questions first. You've probably already noticed this, but-- I don't know if I understood Honir's explanation correctly, but there are basically countless universes out there, right? But somehow, despite that, a lot of us Wanderers come from the same universe and, not only that, but the same time and usually those who share a universe are also, like, family or coworkers or friends or whatever. Do you ... know why that is?

Edited 2019-11-08 07:27 (UTC)

[ He listens to Rhys' preamble with general approval, as unmoved as he may remain, but the question itself earns a soft exhale. ]

We don't know why any of this is happening.

[ Point blank, live rounds. They just don't know. The God of Knowledge and Wisdom is predictably less than enthused by this fact, so he settles back into his chair to offer what little explanation he can. ]

There are infinite universes and infinite realities within those universes. The essence of your existence that has manifested here represents your presence in those realities without bringing the whole of it with you - but you still carry the traces of your home within you. It could stand to reason from that point alone that you've brought the influence of your universe here and others from it are drawn through that opening.

[ But that's a hypothetical and Odin presents it as such; he won't say something is true if he doesn't know that with certainty that it is. ]

Right. Cool. Glad to hear that my theory isn't too out there. So, one more question about that. Peter said you think it might have something to do with this ... magic tree? What is that tree, exactly?

[ He thinks he's heard natives talk about it, but not really anything that tells him much. ]

[ Womp womp, Rhys. Odin's already cool expression slides into an unimpressed line. ]

The magic tree is everything.

[ Perfect deadpan, even in its ridiculousness. ]

You've been here this long collecting this much information and you've yet to find the "magic tree" mentioned anywhere in my library?

Edited (whoopsie) 2019-11-11 22:23 (UTC)

Uhhh.

[ Now that Odin mentions it, maybe he did see it while reading through what little the library provided. But it's been quite some time since he gave up on that idea leading anywhere substantial, and he'd dismissed more or less anything that seemed too outrageous. Like. Magic tree? Come on.

Looks like he'll be giving it another look over. ]

I'll just ... go back and check again.

[ CLEARS THROAT SOME MORE this conversation is going swimmingly! ]

And, uh, let you know if I have any follow-up questions. Unless you'd rather I go ask someone else and stop bothering you.

[ Maybe he shouldn't be asking for favors not long after his miraculous return to the living, but here Dante is (with no real offerings in hand) making his way into Odin's temple with the intent of doing just that. Boy, you are going to be pushing your luck if you ain't careful.

He breathes in, shoving his hands into his pockets, glancing over the temple before looking directly up at the ceiling. Well, here goes: ]

Odin? [ The temptation to call out Alldaddy is very hard to ignore. ] I've got a favor to ask.

[ A wise judgement call, Dante. While Odin isn't particularly chuffed by any way one might address him to seek his counsel, that one on the other hand... 8|

As it is, he appears silently before the man with his hands in his pockets and a bland expression, only one eyebrow slightly raised with intrigue. ]

Speak your piece.

[ Not a guarantee or even a suggestion at all that he might abide by Dante's request, but he'll hear it. ]

[ A very wise call, considering that he would much rather be in Odin's good graces than not. Let no one ever say that Dante is a complete idiot.

Dante regards the god with a warm expression, equal parts happy and surprised to see his call answered. He was ready and waiting for nothing in return, prepared to return from his quest with nothing in hand. ]

Alright. [ He pulls the Devil Sword from his back, turning the blade back towards himself to show Odin the red gem at the pommel. ] This used to be two different amulets, my parents gave one to me and one to my brother Vergil. Now I know I can't them back, when I absorbed my father's sword I absorbed both amulets as well.

[ He shifts the blade, throwing it over his shoulder to sit comfortably on his back again. ]

I was wondering if you could make a replica of them somehow.

[ The same way he had in the castle after Dante's resurrection, Odin's gaze lingers on the mortal for a moment before turning to observe the sword. ]

I could.

[ Confirmation - but not an offer. He fixes Dante with a curious look and asks more directly: ]

What do they mean to you?

[ Confirmation is good, it isn't an offer but the fact it could be done is more than he was expecting. Dante releases the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he crosses his arms across his chest. ]

A lot. More than a lot. [ So much it is almost difficult to put into words. ] So much that I'm willing to pay whatever price you ask.

[ Payment. Odin stops just short of laughing, but the humor shows through all the same. What could a god want from a mortal? And more specifically this god, King of Asgard and Allfather, God of Knowledge and Wisdom, older than time itself.

He doesn't laugh but he does smile. ]

That is my price. Tell me what they mean to you. When they were first gifted to you and now, if you were to receive them again - what do they make you feel?

[ In truth it's surprising that Odin asks for only that. He thought the god might request something else entirely; memories, blood, a part of his soul, something along those lines. After all deals like these never go without one party sacrificing a great deal to get what they want, at least from his experience at least.

He breathes in closing his eyes, and thinks back to his childhood. To Eva holding out the amulets to her sons, to sheer joy he felt, that he saw on Vergil's face... ]

They're the only thing I... We have left of our mother. To say they mean a great deal to me, and to Vergil, would the biggest understatement of the year. [ Eyes open and Dante stares at the floor. ] I lost my brother to the depths of the underworld when I was nineteen years old, down there he had been tortured and turned into a puppet for the demon king that killed our parents. [ Because there is no doubt in his mind that Sparda is dead. ] When I found him again all those years later, regardless of how he had been twisted and mutated, Vergil still held onto the amulet our mother gave to him.

[ Odin wants to know what they mean to him? To both of them? Well, here you go. ]

He lost it then after I killed him, then I sort of lost them both when my father's sword awoke, and then finally when I absorbed both the amulets and the Devil Sword Sparda into myself. [ It's then he looks up, staring at Odin directly. ] Let me make something clear I'm not asking for this for myself, it's an added bonus but this isn't for me. It's for Vergil.

It's been twenty years since I killed him, twenty years without something to remember our mother by. It means the god damn world to me, Odin, and I would be the happiest half-demon in the whole of Asgard if I got my hands on them again.

Edited 2020-01-01 06:07 (UTC)

Malcolm is not exactly sure what he's supposed to do here. He's never really been religious. His family stopped going to church a long time ago and he's not even sure if he believes in God. The god that this temple is dedicated to is apparently very real though. After having picked Odin as his patron, Malcolm realized that if he's going to be spending an indeterminate amount of time here, there are going to be some things that he needs. Other people suggested that he pray to Odin for it.

How does one pray? This place is not like a church and he wonders if it's as formal as all that. He also wonders if he was supposed to bring some sort of gift or sacrifice, which he has not. Oh well.

He decides to take a meditative approach, taking off his shoes and sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of one of the huge waterfalls. "Uh... hello," he says, waving at... the air. "My name is Malcolm Bright and I'm new here. I've just joined your house and there are a few things that I need. I mean, there's a lot of stuff that I could use and I'm sure I'm not the only one, but I really do legitimately need what I'm about to ask for, so I hope that's fine."

This is so awkward.

"Anyway... so I have this... problem. And what I really need in order to take care of it is a set of very specific hand restraints bolted to the wall by my bed. I realize that sounds like some kind of kink, but they're not for that. The ones I have at home are quick release, so I can get out of them myself. Anyway, I have night terrors and if I don't have the restraints, I'm going to end up sleepwalking and hurting someone inevitably and then I'll feel really bad, and I'm sure you don't want that in your house, so..." He sighs, waving his hands in front of him. "What I'm saying is that the restraints will be really helpful.

I also need a few medications that I take in order to feel normal." Malcolm pauses and gives a short laugh at that. As if he'll ever really feel normal. "They're kind of important. If I don't have them I'm probably going to end up curled in a ball in the corner and I don't think anyone wants that. I'm willing to give you the names, if that's necessary, if Trazodone and Xanax mean anything to you."

He looks up, still seemingly alone here in the temple. "So.. yep, that's it. Thanks for your time and... hopefully you'll be able to help me with that stuff."

Malcolm closes his eyes, deciding to try to meditate for a little while longer before leaving.

Quiet footsteps through the water of a stream announce the god's presence as he comes into view through a gap in foliage nearby. He casts a glance to the waterfall the man has chosen to meditate next to, then turns his gaze on the man himself.

"They aren't often so polite, my visitors." As detached as he often is during formalized addresses, there's something adjacent to warm underlying the god's tone. Odin cares deeply for all Wanderers, but that doesn't mean that he always likes them - but this Malcolm is off to a rather promising start.

"You'll find restraints in your chosen room, as you requested. As for the medicine... Hm." A thoughtful click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "The simplest solution is so rarely the most convenient, but thus it stands: It's well within my power to provide the medicine you seek, but in order to make sure it affects you the way that you've grown used to, I'll need to peer into a memory in which you feel precisely how this medicine is meant to make you feel." It's optional, of course. There are alternative routes, but they're less precise, with a higher margin for error.

The voice startles him out of his meditation and Malcolm moves to stand up as he realizes that he's being visited by the god himself. Guess prayer shows really fast results around here.

"Yeah, well, my mother would have a fit if I wasn't polite." One doesn't deal with upper crust New York society without being polite, especially if one already has the stigma of a serial killer attached to him. "I appreciate you coming here to speak to me in person."

He's pleased to hear that he'll have the restraints, though Odin's question about seeing Malcolm's memories in order to get the medication makes his brow furrow. "So.. to be clear, you want me to show you a happy memory? Or a calm one?"

He'll let Odin look at his memories; the god just ought to know that there aren't a lot of happy memories to choose from. It would be much easier to show him why Malcolm needed the medication in the first place.

Odin might argue that prayer does little. He'd consider this more of a reciprocal dialogue, as it may be - though of course Malcolm wouldn't quite realize that yet, would he?

The appreciation is met with an acquiescing nod, leaving space for the man to instead answer his request. And so he does, albeit with a bit of confusion. That's fine. Odin doesn't mind clarifying. His shoulders lift in a light sort of shrug, and he says, "I suppose either will do. Failing that, I might make do with a memory from a time without it." Since the inverse seemed to trip Malcolm up a bit, this might prove simpler.

"Or I could show you why I need it in the first place," Malcolm says. This isn't usually how he introduces himself to people. It's definitely not something that he would tell someone whom he wants to make a good impression on, but unfortunately, this is too important. He can talk about how Fine he is all he wants, but he knows that his medications are part of what's making him that way. He needs to have them.

Malcolm's not really sure how he should do this, so he sits back down, cross-legged, and closes his eyes.

It's 1998 and Malcolm is ten. He's standing in his pajamas in the foyer of his family home as the police mill around collecting evidence. His father is trying to tell him something, but Malcolm only half remembers it. Then he's being led away in handcuffs.

Flashback to a few days before that. Malcolm is in the basement, the area where his father does his work, when he sees an open trunk and starts walking towards it.

Outside of the memory, Malcolm's hand starts to tremble.

Inside the trunk is a woman's body. He has no idea if she's alive or dead, but she isn't moving and he can't see her face. Malcolm screams. In an instant, someone grabs him from behind, someone he knows to be his father, and a rag is put over his face. He passes out.

That's always where his nightmare ends, so Malcolm opens his eyes, panting at the stress of the memory. He notices that his hand is shaking and clenches it into a fist, resting it on top of his thigh.

When Malcolm opens his eyes, Odin's expression hasn't changed beyond a slight lift of his chin. Because ah - he sees, now. It's all terribly unfortunate, especially for a child, but he spares Malcolm's dignity the blow of hearing as much for what's likely not the first time.

Instead, he reaches into his pocket and produces a small corked jar filled as full as can be with small white spheres. "One per day," the god says, offering out the jar. It's entirely magical, the medicating effect of these little spheres, not chemical. The remedy could've been anything, really - a bottle from which to drink once per day, or a stone to throw out a window once per day, and the medicative effect would be the same. But Malcolm will certainly do best with a remedy that takes at least an adjacent form to that which he's used to, so swallowed tablets it shall be.

"For the rest of my life," Malcolm says with a nod, then stands up and takes the jar from Odin. They orbs inside don't look like the pills he takes, but he's going to trust that they'll have the same effect on his brain chemistry as his usual pills would. He'd be glad that Odin decided to give him something he was used to instead of something like having to throw at stone out a window every day. That would just be odd to him.

"Thank you," he says with a little bow of his head. "I appreciate this."

"Of course," is Odin's simple response. Not 'of course you appreciate it', but 'of course I assisted'. To refuse would have been inhumane, even more so than he initially thought. "Linger as long as you please," he says, nodding a 'farewell' and turning to stroll off through the greenery from whence he came.

ODIN'S TEMPLE - OPEN LOG

CLOSED TO FRIGG - WITH GREAT POWER or some such rot

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coming to all-daddy w/rhys for lifeblood (aka: coffee)

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allpapa is here to ground you for being gross

Please

sorry (not sorry) alldaddy

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In the Garden

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shrieks forever i'm sorry feel free to ignore

never gonna ignore!!!!

whale noises

smooches

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