infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[Will has a roommate who does that, who makes jokes that Will can't return, who rather started off their relationship doing as much. He's grown used to it, can't be bothered to give her a look about it or anything. The only thing that gets a look is the sky, hodgepodge of black and dark blue that makes every single star as obvious as can be. For the moment, at any rate.]

What if he didn't send them? I—he can't send all of that everywhere, can he? Earth's large, that's...that's a full time job, making it rain where and when it needs to.

[He grew up hearing about the single God of the universe that could control everything at the same time without any problem. It's a nice theory, but the idea of having gods, delegated to roles, ones that they offered sacrifices to even if they weren't always able to listen...implies less omnipresence, doesn't it? For how potentially insulting a question it could be, it's not asked to be that. It's genuine curiosity, and considering the lightning strike he catches out of the corner of his eye is pretty far off, he feels safe that much is obvious. Not trying to be dick, no reason to smite him.]

He's our god. Different places had different gods, most of 'em kept to their own corners off the world 'cause otherwise it causes a huge fucking mess.

[So she isn't annoyed or insulted by the implication that Thor isn't omnipresent enough to send lightning and storms all over the world.]

And there's weather. Normal weather. Gods ain't in control of the whole world constantly, but they'd help us out if we did things right. Like I'd help people out who did the Dísablót well.

[Normal weather. Talking about gods and outright stating, there's weather—it's refreshing, it's a nice change of pace. Some of the religious people where he comes from could stand to learn from it, though if Kara was vocal about who and what she was back where he was from, she'd end up in—

—aha.]

Do I wanna ask what happens if you manage to totally fuck up the Dísablót?

[He's parroting Kara with that word, an unknown. Not only is it in her pronunciation, but there's something off about the way he says it because it's his voice, yes. But it's not how he would say it if he knew that word, oh no. That word is Kara in every way it can be without it coming out of her mouth. How the hell else is he to say it properly?]

[This isn't something she discusses very often or very openly; it's a private part of a world she's been forced to leave behind. But Will is Will, and she knows he'll respect whatever she says.]

Depends. There's fucking it up and there's disrespect.

[They're two totally different things, and there are even more variations of fucking it up, because there's accidents or mistakes or things totally outside someone's control.]

We ain't gods, most of us were human once, and the ones who weren't had spent a lot of time with 'em. We never expected perfection, but if people forgot, or if they decided it wasn't important, it made our decisions easier.

[About who would die in battle, about who would go to Valhalla.]

[He doesn't fully nod at her making it clear that there's a difference, but the way his chin tilts, jerks just a little—he's following along. How many festivals or concerts were planned that had to be called off due to rain or worse weather? Sure, attendance might barely suffer if it was a light drizzle...with the inclusion of thunderstorms and heavy winds, sometimes things had to be canceled. Or sometimes they didn't seem ready to get that way and things had to be shut down in the middle of them. People were at risk, the equipment being used was at risk...even the best laid plans can end up completely obliterated. It makes sense that the situation would be taken into account, that a Dísablót going poorly due to something beyond control would be a far cry from a Dísablót going poorly because the people didn't give a shit or ended up committing acts during it that the gods they were supposed to be honoring certainly didn't find respectful.

Trying didn't always mean success, but mockery didn't enter the same realm as trying. Forgetting entirely? Mockery in and of itself, wasn't it?]

Seems like if you're gonna have a party for gods, you're gonna try to do it right. [Seems like it, and yet there's all sorts of people out there. He knows, God does he know.] Good that you didn't expect perfection, because— [He doesn't quite gesture to himself, but it's there in spirit. To him, nudging his head back to the house.] —never gonna find a perfect human. We don't exist.

[Is that part of their charm? Ruling deities looking at the humans who won't ever be able to achieve anything like perfection and taking them on as pets. That's a comforting thought, requires more booze to go with it.]

When was the last time you actually got drunk?

[There's another thing that seems to Will—it seems a terrible fate to never be drunk again. Of course, he's assuming that with the right stuff, with the right amount of it...Kara could, in fact, be drunk off her ass. That is, however, an assumption.]

Sometimes the gods forget that.

[That people can't be perfect, that things go wrong outside of people's control, because her gods lean a little more towards perfection, even if they aren't infallible like some.

She remembers hearing other Valkyries - born Valkyries - and people who resided in Asgard, that certain gods were a lot more difficult to please than others. Ones who wouldn't accept any failure, but most would understand.

As for getting drunk:]

'Bout a month ago? Balthazar had real Asgardian mead.

[There's - something in her voice, in the way she takes a drink, but she's trying not to acknowledge that fact that she actually misses a damn angel.]

It'd been a while before that.

[Gods existing alongside other gods, their followers outright admitting that weather can just be weather, the idea of deities forgetting—all nothing he's used to. It continues to leave him torn, provokes two very different responses despite his lack of religious involvement. Perhaps they've talked about it too much, though. It all seems to be something she doesn't share often, doesn't have anyone to share with it. He's fine with sharing, truly, but perhaps it's best to veer course.

...somewhat difficult when the mead goes right back to Asgard, damn.]

Is there a recipe that makes it real or was a little travel involved? [How the hell (Hel?) does anyone get to Asgard, he doesn't know. The way his knees close in on each other and he leans against them further isn't nervousness now that the sound of thunder is gradually getting closer and this conversation is happening, no way. Certainly not. That would be silly.] Can you make it on your own?

It was probably from Heiðrún.

[The expression on her face is one of a little caution, because she knows how this next bit is going to sound and sometimes people can be a little weird about it.

But Will seems a bit less likely to be freaked out.]

She's a goat, the mead in Valhalla comes from her udders.

[yeah]

[He's not quite sure what the face is for, first assuming that maybe the word she just said was something that would take a lot of explanation she wasn't sure how to go about. That in his attempt to get away from too much more explanations of home, he'd gone and asked a question that flew in the face of it. And then—ah. Ah.

He doesn't laugh, exactly. Nostrils flare as he exhales quickly, but there's no sound of real laughter.]

Most of the goats I ran across were ornery, made me wonder why anyone raised them. [Not weird to Will, not one bit.] If all goats produced mead instead of milk, wouldn't wonder that at all.

[The beer goat sounds fucking awesome, in short.]

[It's a better reaction she gets from most people, proper laugh or not, and she manages a wry smile in return.]

They ain't too bad if you know how to handle 'em. Problem is people let the bloody things push 'em around, and then they think they're in charge.

[She's done a lot of farming and living off the land, and that has occasionally included owning goats.]

[Goat farming is not a dead. Unlike, in his world, certain deities. Religions. Those have certainly shifted, but people still use goats the same as they did before he was even thought of.]

Same with dogs. [He indicates his, muddy and apparently asleep, seemingly the opposite of ornery, ill-behaved, or thinking he's in charge.] But they don't have horns and they're not prone to headbutting.

[No, they just have fangs that can do damage if someone gets on the wrong side, and they piss all over everything to let the world know it's theirs, and they destroy entire houses if they have superpowers, and yet they're so sweet, awww.]

Rather be headbutted than have my throat ripped out.

[Not that she has any problems with dogs, she likes them, but she isn't inclined to forget where they came from and what they're capable of.]

[The look that crosses his face—he is the weariest, most burdened man in the world in this moment. Not that people don't call his shit out for what it is back home, of course, but it's usually much ruder or in much more complicated manners, involving metaphors and similes that crumble apart halfway through but they keep on anyway.]

Rather be headbutted if I knew mead was attached instead of just milk.

[So there.]

[oh will]

Not a fan of milk?

[And now she's just mocking him a little, teasing, because they've had enough a somber mood for now, she thinks.]

Not if there's an alcoholic alternative, no.

[There's one in his hand right now, one that is a little much for someone to finish in a single go—or not, apparently. There it goes. Thunder's getting closer, he's had a few unfriendly thoughts related to a god who's all about the storms and lightning in the presence of a Valkyrie, but there's no fear that that counts for anything in this world.

The way he looks at her, though: I know what you're doing, Kara, let my face tell you that much.]

[She just shrugs; she doesn't care if he knows what she's doing, it's not like being subtle has ever been her kind of thing.]

Could be baileys in the milk.

[What.]

[Well, if she's going to be like that, Will can return it. He certainly can. He frequently deals with April Ludgate, sometimes a vampire queen, sometimes a human, always ready to spout bullshit and slowly growing prepared for Will to bring it up later. He can roll with this.]

That's the reason I buy my own milk and put my name on the jugs. One of my roomies found that out the hard way.

[The breakfast of champions is alcoholic cereal. Also this never happened.

The single drop of rain that manages to hit the knee of his pants did happen, but it's ignored. Stop begging for attention, Thor.]

[Kara looks up at the sky as a raindrop hits her cheek, frowning as if that might make it go away.]

I'm gonna hav'ta start coming over for breakfast.

[If there's boozy cereal involved.]

IC contact [Mask or Menace]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject