EVENT LOG: GOOD GOD, Y'ALL

[asgardmods]

Who: EVERYONE
What: the Good God, Y'all mingle log.
When: Days 461-462 ( June 9-12 )
Where: the castle courtyard
Rating: PG-13. Anything higher than that should be taken to a private log, please!

Day 461 ( June 9/10 )

When the Travellers wake up, they will find a message sent to every bracelet in the city:

As per the agreement between the gods and their Travellers, all persons within Asgard are humbly requested at the castle courtyard for enlistment in the Holy City's war efforts. Every individual is invited to find their resolve and seek out their purpose; this is the final stand in Ragnarok, and your help is needed now more than ever.

Enlistment is mandatory! Please see your local officials for more information.

A friendly if not a touch formal invitation to what will essentially be Asgard's job fair! A mandatory job fair. This is why we can't have nice things.

The castle courtyard and the streets leading into it will be crowded with bustling natives and several booths, not uncommon in appearance to the many festivals they've had over the last two years. This time, however, there is no music or celebration to be had. Everyone is hard at work organising their efforts for the war and doing their level best to assist in the transition.

Day 462 ( June 11/12 )

The fair will continue for two days, to give everyone time to get down there and make their decisions. Anyone that hasn't signed up by the end of this day will be visited at home by a city rep and a few guards that will politely ask them to register for a group and weaponry if they plan to carry it. Refusal will land them in jail for the day, where they will still be politely asked to please, seriously, just pick something. Anything. Uncle Odin wants you.

At the end of the fair, there will be food and drinks to thank the Travellers for their support and cooperation. Throughout the entirety of the event and for the rest of their stay, the natives will be more reverent and grateful than ever than the Travellers have chosen to stay and fight at their side. They will do anything they can to help them win this war; this evening will be one of camaraderie and appreciation for the past, present, and future sacrifices to save the World Tree.

[ OOC NOTES: This is the mingle log for the Good God, Y'all event. Remember that all characters must be signed up for at least one group by June 12. Information on the currently established groups can be found here; sign-ups are in the comments section on the same post. Please put [OPEN/CLOSED] along with the time/location in the title of your comment. Let us know if you have any questions! ]

Comments

[comeonthensexy]

Sorry? You were born before the sun?

[ That doesn't really. Make sense. Please explain. ]

[bythewaves]

[ Ooh, someone who picked up on that! ]

I was yes. In my world, before the moon and the sun, the land was lit by the light of the two Trees - Telperion the fair and Laurelin the golden. It was only when they were slain that the Valar - the Powers of the world, sought to create sources of light that could not be so easily overthrown - Telperion's last flower they used to light the Moon, and Laurelin's last fruit for the sun.

[comeonthensexy]

[ He's very perceptive. No one actually has before? ]

But how can there be trees at all if there's no sun?

[bythewaves]

[ Most people are too busy boggling over his age ]

[ Maglor chuckles and shrugs a little ]

That, I could not tell you - but the two Trees were more than just trees. They were living light, bright and beautiful, and in their light all things grew fair and strong.

But as to how - you would have to ask the Powers that, for the Trees were of their devising, and presumably, their sustaining.

[comeonthensexy]

The ... Powers? And they are ...? Creators?

[bythewaves]

Maglor waggles his hand in the (apparently) multiversal sign for "sort of"

"Ah... yes? But not really - I suppose you could consider them closer to 'Builders' than creators. They cannot make beings with life in them - that is solely the province of Eru Illuvater, the One above all - which is why in my world Elves and Men and Dwarves and all our scattered kin are called the 'Eruhini' - the Children of the One - but they were those who built the world, and their powers are sustained by it, even as they sustain it. That is why we call them the Valar - the Powers of the World."

[comeonthensexy]

"Well, I suppose if a creature can live in sunlight that's supposedly deadly to all living things, I guess there can be life where there's initially no sun. Why not? I would love to see that."

Really poke at it. Figure it out beyond this whole thing that made it sound like a creation myth.

[bythewaves]

No myth to Maglor or his kin, who lived and walked in lands from legend, but he knows what his stories sound like, and shrugs apologetically.

"I am sorry I cannot be more precise - if my father or brothers Curufin or Maedhros were here, they might have been able to tell you more, for they loved always to ask such questions, but my tutelage was in Music, and I gave little thought to asking the Powers how things worked."

[comeonthensexy]

"Oh, that's all right," he says and waves a hand. "Not everyone knows everything and all that. If any of them show up, though, you'll definitely have to tell me so I can interrogate them."

He moves enough to be able to nudge Maglor with his elbow, smiling wide at his own joke. Because he's so funny.

[bythewaves]

"If ever they do I will point them to you" Maglor promises, nudging back teasingly.

"Although you might find yourself at the end of a grilling instead - Father could be... mm. Abrasive? Compelling? He was... the best and brightest of us, and not always tolerant of us slower folk." Which is putting it kindly.

[comeonthensexy]

He snorts. "I'd like to see someone who was brighter than me without effort."

That's mostly his ego speaking, but he doesn't often meet people who are brighter than him, as such. He has loads of very clever friends. Prefers them. But they don't usually beat him. There have been equals, but as a general rule he considers himself the cleverest person in the room at all times.

[bythewaves]

Maglor grins and shakes his head.

"Ah me, you and father in a room would either be the best of friends on meeting or try to strangle each other. I was not joking when I called him the best and brightest - there has been none to match Feanor's skill or breadth of knowledge in our world in all my years, and they say that there never will. He could match you, I think - in ego, as well."

A shrug, and the smile dims a little. "Of course, he is dead now, and will never leave the Halls of Waiting, and in that respect, you outstrip him, for what can the Dead learn of Life and the living?"

[comeonthensexy]

"Ah." Hm. Interesting. "I dunno. Never gotten the chance to ask a dead person what they know of life and living. Maybe they've got a lot of profound things to say about it."

[bythewaves]

Another amused huff. "Father had profound things to say about everything, particularly if you consider complaining about how he could improve it profound, so perhaps! But I have never walked the Halls - perhaps he has learnt patience and sense by now. Then again, if there was ever any to out-stubborn the Doomsman, it would be my father."

[comeonthensexy]

"Sounds like a Time Lord."

[bythewaves]

A low chuckle "I might say the reverse, perhaps. But there are many of you, and Father was always... unique."

[comeonthensexy]

"Excuse me. There aren't many of me! I am absolutely unique. I just come in different editions." He huffs pointedly, folding his arms. "And," he raises a finger, "I am not a typical Time Lord. They could give your dad a run for his money on the stubbornness side, believe me." A pause. "Well, I suppose I'm like Time Lords in that regard. A bit."

[bythewaves]

An amused raised eyebrow. "Your brother tells me there are eleven editions of you, although not all are present here - how other would you like me to define 'many', Doctor? But I believe you on the 'not typical' score - your brother has said as much to me as well."

A smile. "And the stubborness I think needs no arguing"

[comeonthensexy]

He huffs, for the sake of it.

"Another edition is the same thing in a different casing, possibly with a thing or two added. But there's only one of me in the entirety of my universe."

[bythewaves]

Maglor laughs at that - bright and cheerful - "Ah, well, I will concede on that point. Aye, there is only one Doctor - and I suppose one is enough, eh?"

[comeonthensexy]

Well. Good.

"My friends would probably say it's more than enough, yeah."

And he's inclined to agree. He can barely stand himself as it is.

[bythewaves]

"Perhaps" Maglor shrugs, amusedly. "Yet, you have been a good friend to me here - in all your varied selves, and I deem you have been so to more than just me either. There might also be argument that we need more like you."

[comeonthensexy]

That brings a smile to his face, even if it's an odd one, and he lowers his gaze for a second. He wouldn't agree.

"I think there is that argument."

He'd say there are better people than him for there to be more of. Clara, for example. Rose. Amy. All his companions.

[bythewaves]

"You think" the murmur is soft and understanding "That there are so many bright souls out there better than you. That why would any have you, when you have caused so much harm, when there are others so much better." Maglor knows - he thinks the same, after all.

"Yet I would miss you, if you were not here - and I am sure they would as well. We have all of us a part to play, in the Great Music - your part is as true as any of theirs."

[comeonthensexy]

That is a very lovely thought. And he knows - of course he does - that he’s played a big part. An important part. But sometimes - often - he wonders if he hasn’t overstayed his welcome.

“I’m the wound in the fabric of the universe,” he says, ever so casually, with a tilt of his head. “I poke holes in the structure of time and slip in where I feel like. I don’t have a part to play; I make a part for myself to play. I’m that annoying fly,” he wriggles his fingers by his ear, “that won’t stop buzzing around your ear. And then, occasionally, someone lets me settle on their hand and stay a while, until I get frightened or they get irritated and shoo me off.” He puts his hands in his pockets, tilting his chin down, smiling away. “That’s me.”