[Will roll for each, or you can, if you'd like. Open to all, except perhaps 6, since he never actually had any in the first place... 14 is arguable, too, depending on how much you're into leather.]
I actually rolled this. 1.ladyofthefensAugust 11 2012, 07:11:55 UTC
She isn't entirely certain what had gone wrong with the spell, but thus far Frigga has managed to hide the effects from everyone but her personal servants, and she knows rumors do not spread from their whispers. Odin is occupied with the delegation from Svartálfaheimr and he had insisted that Thor accompany him. Loki is gone, off on one of his solitary expeditions. Her secret is safe.
The gardens are in full bloom, all but the trees enchanted to fruit out of season, and it isn't unusual for her to spend entire days there, from sunrise to dusk. She is there now, sitting still and serene, surrounded by the scents and sounds of the gardens.
She just cannot see the shadows stretching over the paths. Temporary, she reminds herself as the breeze stirs a shower of petals and she holds out a hand.
Loki quietly steps into his chambers, materialising out of thin air on the bear rug. He sighs wearily and quickly performs a spell to hide his tracks, setting the highly rare and sought after magic book he'd just managed to steal upon his desk. Closing his eyes, he visualised the chaos in the great library of Álfheimr, making sure nothing could lead the displeased librarians to him.
He hides it amongst his already impressive collection of spells and handbooks, fixing his attire and quickly stepping out, knowing he needed to be seen in Asgard, as an alibi. Crossing the corridor in front of his mother's apartments makes him pause. The magic here is wrong, somehow. His eyebrows furrow and he retraces his steps, asking of his mother's servants where she is and quickly teleporting himself into the gardens.
Surely enough Frigga is there, sitting on her own and looking peaceful. The magic around her is unsettled still, and Loki can feel it. He approaches stealthily.
She feels more than hears his arrival as his magic stirs through the gardens. Oh dear. She had hoped he would be away longer, that this effect would have dissipated without anyone the wiser. Her head turns just slightly toward him and she closes her eyes to hide the gray mists of Niflheimr that cloud the blue.
"Welcome home, my dear. You must be tired." Whatever mischief he's involved himself in, perhaps he would wish to briefly greet her and then rest. She may be able to conjure a glamour for that short amount of time, though her eyes would still be unseeing.
The Nightingale | The Nightingale and the Rose || OTAlovethatdiesnotAugust 10 2012, 18:22:01 UTC
{as an aside; for the sake of interaction, the nightingale can speak.}
1. Sense of Sight
[It happens all the time to birds. They mistake the reflections of clouds for open skies and fly headlong into windows. It was only a matter of time before it happened to her. Especially since she was prone to daydreaming and didn't always pay attention.
It hurt, terribly, and she didn't understand why. And it had gone so dark, suddenly. She toppled to the ground, fluttering feebly.]
[ooc: I AM LATE IN ALL THINGS. Ugh. Sorry. Also, colour me curious -- what other muses do you have? Let me stalk you (admiringly).]
It isn't his flat, but he takes liberties with it as if he had been inhabiting it for years, not just a few days, as a mere guest (who did not own a set of keys but) who made his own breakfast and his own schedule to his own convenience. Which was exactly what he was doing when he heard the tap against the window; toast and tea, nothing special. At first, he could not quite place the source, but eventually, Nigel did make his way to the window. The sight is pitiful, but it does not stir something within him
( ... )
7 -RNG is not working, but the new one I found seems to hate you, Jon Snowwild_frecklesAugust 11 2012, 21:30:16 UTC
The night gala had been a long one, even though she and Jon had snuck out apparently earlier than they were supposed to. Or Jon was, anyway. Ygritte figured as much, as he kept coming up with clear guilt-riden comments regarding his parents.
They quickly made it back to his flat, Ghost enthusiastically greeting them both. If Ygritte loved something about visiting Snow's place, that had to be his adorable, huge dog. Because really, the boy was so dull that nothing else had happened at his place yet...
"I'm going to put the kettle on." She announched, patting her thigh for Ghost to follow her.
All number generators have it in for us XDtaken_vowsAugust 11 2012, 21:44:29 UTC
"Okay." He nodded as he found his way to the kitchen table. She'd quickly made herself comfortable in his own home, but he didn't mind too much. He just found it a little strange that a guest would be happy to make their own drinks and help themselves to their own food as well.
A wave of nausea washed over him. He'd managed to drink more than he'd been allowed by Mrs Stark in the end. That had been Ygritte's influence and now his head was swimming. Folding his arms on the table, he put his head down on the cool table surface.
I do approve though, Totally XDwild_frecklesAugust 11 2012, 21:49:32 UTC
As she searched through his cabinets for his mugs, Ygritte heard the soft and yet very well known thump of a dizzy head meeting a table's surface.
"I won't clean it if you vomit on your table, just so you know." She pointed out, pushing Ghost's head away as he intended to have a good smell at her dress and her no-dogs-allowed parts.
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The gardens are in full bloom, all but the trees enchanted to fruit out of season, and it isn't unusual for her to spend entire days there, from sunrise to dusk. She is there now, sitting still and serene, surrounded by the scents and sounds of the gardens.
She just cannot see the shadows stretching over the paths. Temporary, she reminds herself as the breeze stirs a shower of petals and she holds out a hand.
Reply
He hides it amongst his already impressive collection of spells and handbooks, fixing his attire and quickly stepping out, knowing he needed to be seen in Asgard, as an alibi. Crossing the corridor in front of his mother's apartments makes him pause. The magic here is wrong, somehow. His eyebrows furrow and he retraces his steps, asking of his mother's servants where she is and quickly teleporting himself into the gardens.
Surely enough Frigga is there, sitting on her own and looking peaceful. The magic around her is unsettled still, and Loki can feel it. He approaches stealthily.
Reply
"Welcome home, my dear. You must be tired." Whatever mischief he's involved himself in, perhaps he would wish to briefly greet her and then rest. She may be able to conjure a glamour for that short amount of time, though her eyes would still be unseeing.
Reply
Reply
1. Sense of Sight
[It happens all the time to birds. They mistake the reflections of clouds for open skies and fly headlong into windows. It was only a matter of time before it happened to her. Especially since she was prone to daydreaming and didn't always pay attention.
It hurt, terribly, and she didn't understand why. And it had gone so dark, suddenly. She toppled to the ground, fluttering feebly.]
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It isn't his flat, but he takes liberties with it as if he had been inhabiting it for years, not just a few days, as a mere guest (who did not own a set of keys but) who made his own breakfast and his own schedule to his own convenience. Which was exactly what he was doing when he heard the tap against the window; toast and tea, nothing special. At first, he could not quite place the source, but eventually, Nigel did make his way to the window. The sight is pitiful, but it does not stir something within him ( ... )
Reply
Reply
They quickly made it back to his flat, Ghost enthusiastically greeting them both. If Ygritte loved something about visiting Snow's place, that had to be his adorable, huge dog. Because really, the boy was so dull that nothing else had happened at his place yet...
"I'm going to put the kettle on." She announched, patting her thigh for Ghost to follow her.
Reply
A wave of nausea washed over him. He'd managed to drink more than he'd been allowed by Mrs Stark in the end. That had been Ygritte's influence and now his head was swimming. Folding his arms on the table, he put his head down on the cool table surface.
Reply
"I won't clean it if you vomit on your table, just so you know." She pointed out, pushing Ghost's head away as he intended to have a good smell at her dress and her no-dogs-allowed parts.
Reply
Reply
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