[Tag: [ trickster_loki only] Location : Outside Asgard (out of other's view)
There was blood on his hands and blood on his boots. Over every conceivable area of his body, Odin was drenched in the fluid that would soon disappear of its own accord, if he let it happen. The daily warfare in Valhalla was special to him; a reminder that what was to come, what will indeed pass, and that there was naught to do but watch, wait, and practice.
“You two think I am being easy on him, don’t you?”
Freki and Geri stared, silent in their assessment of their beloved master. Who were they to judge? They were just wolves after all, albeit fearless and ever hungry ones. Yes, true wolves, whose size were well below the size of Fenrir but they could become almost as large as Sleipnir should the occasion warrant such a thing.
“He’s free, as are a few others, or so I hear. But the horn hasn’t sounded. Heimdall would know and lest you forget, the three winters in a row, have not taken place,” Odin murmured as he began to brush Sleipnir down. It was something that he did after every wild hunt or warfare session that he attended.
Again, they looked to each other and then Odin. Where was their food? It was the only question on their mind - not whether Odin was losing his grip in leadership. They were and would be loyal to the end but their stomachs desired reaffirming of Odin’s love. Where was their portion of Schrimnir’s flesh?
“I loved him, you know. Still do, but I had to protect the others from whatever other mischief, murder, and mayhem that he would pull.” He still believed that. There were tragedies on either side - Fenrir, Jormungand, and Hel; Loki’s other children, as they were weighed against the death of his own son and that of Aegir’s servant Funfeng. Odin blinked as he patted down the length of Sleipnir’s spine. The wondrous horse was a constant reminder that not all Loki did was tainted with hurt and misery.
“I miss him too, Sleipnir. I miss the way things were,” Odin spoke again, knowing the truth of the matter - things would never go back to the way they were - ever. Wisdom made itself at home on Odin, as he thought his emotions out and settled into in his daily routine of acceptance. They pre-dated the Greek for crying aloud.
Loki could have redeemed himself but he did not. Odin could forgive him, but he rarely did. His son did not have to stay with Hel, Hel should have had more choice than to be sent below…the list of should haves went on, ad nauseum.
He could have…no, no more grieving today, Odin thought to himself as he fed his boys their traditional fare before sitting down at the table to watch. The moment that he sat, Odin knew. No, he couldn’t do this today. Quickly, silently, Odin made his excuse, taking himself to Sleipnir’s quarters.
It was time for a ride. Clear his head, Odin thought to himself as he passed Heimdall, giving him a formal and most courteous nod before breaking away at a fast pace toward more wide open spaces.
“You two think I am being easy on him, don’t you?”
Freki and Geri stared, silent in their assessment of their beloved master. Who were they to judge? They were just wolves after all, albeit fearless and ever hungry ones. Yes, true wolves, whose size were well below the size of Fenrir but they could become almost as large as Sleipnir should the occasion warrant such a thing.
“He’s free, as are a few others, or so I hear. But the horn hasn’t sounded. Heimdall would know and lest you forget, the three winters in a row, have not taken place,” Odin murmured as he began to brush Sleipnir down. It was something that he did after every wild hunt or warfare session that he attended.
Again, they looked to each other and then Odin. Where was their food? It was the only question on their mind - not whether Odin was losing his grip in leadership. They were and would be loyal to the end but their stomachs desired reaffirming of Odin’s love. Where was their portion of Schrimnir’s flesh?
“I loved him, you know. Still do, but I had to protect the others from whatever other mischief, murder, and mayhem that he would pull.” He still believed that. There were tragedies on either side - Fenrir, Jormungand, and Hel; Loki’s other children, as they were weighed against the death of his own son and that of Aegir’s servant Funfeng. Odin blinked as he patted down the length of Sleipnir’s spine. The wondrous horse was a constant reminder that not all Loki did was tainted with hurt and misery.
“I miss him too, Sleipnir. I miss the way things were,” Odin spoke again, knowing the truth of the matter - things would never go back to the way they were - ever. Wisdom made itself at home on Odin, as he thought his emotions out and settled into in his daily routine of acceptance. They pre-dated the Greek for crying aloud.
Loki could have redeemed himself but he did not. Odin could forgive him, but he rarely did. His son did not have to stay with Hel, Hel should have had more choice than to be sent below…the list of should haves went on, ad nauseum.
He could have…no, no more grieving today, Odin thought to himself as he fed his boys their traditional fare before sitting down at the table to watch. The moment that he sat, Odin knew. No, he couldn’t do this today. Quickly, silently, Odin made his excuse, taking himself to Sleipnir’s quarters.
It was time for a ride. Clear his head, Odin thought to himself as he passed Heimdall, giving him a formal and most courteous nod before breaking away at a fast pace toward more wide open spaces.