2nd bolt

[richtighammer]

((Action, 1124 Taylor Road; public))The last time Thor drank mead, it was out of a cauldron five miles deep, in a golden hall surrounded by the greatest of the Aesir, all toasting his strength with every foaming horn-full they swallowed. Mayfield, however, has neither bottomless cauldrons, nor golden halls, nor, for the most part, Aesir. He's sick

Comments

[dearmungandr]

[Loki probably made him come. And it's not like he has anything better to do, so he's here. Jormungandr is lurking off to the side all linefaisy and generally a bit of a mood killer.]

[richtighammer]

[Of course Loki had to invite him. He couldn't just let it be a nice, monster-free party. No, he had to bring the serpent. Or, well, this awkward man-shape that is trying and failing to pass for Thor's mightiest enemy.

But it's difficult to be truly angry when the heady scent of honey is in the air, and Thor's taunting is more cursory than anything when he calls across the lawn:]

Did you come just to watch, serpent? Or were you thinking of taking a swim? [He grins and gives the boiling pot a mockingly inviting stir.]

[dearmungandr]

[Jormungandr's attention immediately snaps to Thor when he calls. After a moment's thought, he walks over to the fire and looks into the pot and then at Thor. The barest hint of a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth.]

Could.

[richtighammer]

And leave the mead stinking of fish? I think not!

[dearmungandr]

[He scoffs.]

Your idea.

[And besides, he doesn't smell like fish. Not at all.]

[richtighammer]

[It's the principle of the thing, okay. The... giant snake thing.]

I'll not have you ruining the first cauldron of mead we brew here! You'll bring ill luck down on the whole venture!

[dearmungandr]

[...superstitions, Thor? Really? Congratulations you have gone down about five points in Jormungandr's esteem.

Not that he's keeping track.

Anyway, Jormungandr just rolls his eyes.]

Won't. Sstupid.

[ARGH THOSE T SOUNDS]

[richtighammer]

[Thor's face clouds over. Damn it, he will not be insulted at his own party. If he weren't too afraid of ruining the mead to stop stirring...]

Well, serpent. If you must stay--

[He holds out a bottle of beer at Jormungandr, and somehow manages to make it almost threatening.]

--then drink.

[dearmungandr]

[He wasn't calling you stupid, stupid, he was calling the idea stupid... eh, whatever. You're still an idiot. It works.

Jormungandr glances at the beer, looks at Thor, then back at the beer, and finally takes it.]

...Thankss.

[richtighammer]

[It was, in a way, a test; Thor offered Jormungandr guest-right, and Jormungandr took it. There will be no fistfights on this lawn today.

Well. Not fatal ones.]

Drink up, serpent! Don't look so dour. This is a celebration, not a funeral!

[...Not that Viking funerals are much different from parties, except for the presence of a body; but still. Thor does not brook long faces at his parties.]

[dearmungandr]

[He glances at the beer again and takes a cautious swig...

...and makes a face and sound of disgust.]

[richtighammer]

[...Thor has to laugh. He raises his own beer in a sardonic toast.]

That's why we're brewing the mead!

[dearmungandr]

[He's never had mead himself, but anything has got to be better than this.]

[richtighammer]

[Thor is inclined to agree.]

Next time we'll brew it with seawater - perhaps you'll find it better then!

[dearmungandr]

[Oh so clever, Thor. So clever. Jormungandr rolls his eyes and snorts. If they could find seawater it may actually make it more interesting at least. But yes, he knows what the intention of the comment was.]

[richtighammer]

Come now - is there so little to laugh about beneath the sea, that you've forgotten how? [He thought it was funny, okay.]