asgardswisdom | ODIN'S TEMPLE

welcome to raven's garðr.

Who: ANYONE; Odin may or may not appear if asked to (and even if not!)
What: Any interactions that take place in Odin's temple.
When: ANYTIME; the temple does not lock or close in any way, and this log is permanently open.
Where: Raven's Garðr, in Odin's district.
Rating: Please take anything adult rated to a private log; everything else is welcome.

This is a permanent open log for anything that takes place in Odin's temple. Using this log is completely optional and you are welcome to use the log community instead. This is just one easy way to get an NPC handler's eyes on something you may want Odin to be aware of, whether the god actually makes an appearance in your thread or not. You are welcome to play out threads with other characters as well, or even just leave your own comment of something your character is doing alone in the temple. This is a completely open action log for literally anything.

If your character wishes to make contact with Odin, you can simply leave a comment here with an OOC note or plot it out ahead of time! How your character attempts to gain his attention is their choice, just as it is his choice whether or not to respond. Comments on this post are valid for AC.

navigation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject