lake party invite + mingle (open)

[channellings]

Who: any and everyone!
Where: the lake and nearby!
When: right now! (july 7th, afternoon)
What: motha 👏 fuckin 👏 lake 👏 party
Warnings: Language (!!!) for now, will be added as needed!



[no, this is not a joke and yes, it's an actual invite to a party over the network from the username: cock.licking.idiot (and no, that's not a joke, either).

those who decide that they'd rather not be square will arrive at some unspecified patch of lake shore (thanks, klaus) at a similarly unspecified time (good work, asshat) to discover that something resembling a slapdash but heartfelt lake party along the northern waterfront. a couple of tables have been dragged out of nearby cabins and now hold a probably inadvisable quantity of foods, at least half of which don't belong at a party by any means. is this what rationing looks like? this is definitely what rationing looks like. there's also an alcohol table, filled pretty sparsely early on in the party but gathering bottles and cans throughout the day. (word of mod says feel free to wing it on what kind of alcohol we have!).

a number of chairs sit in a wobbly line in the stone-filled waterfront sand, most of them not meant for beachgoing but nearly all of them able to recline. about fifty feet down the beach seems to be the splash zone, where all water horseplay exists well out of range of splashing those sitting in beachside chairs. some people dive or cannonball off the mostly-sturdy pier, while others seem to be batting around a-... is that a beach ball they have? no, it seems to be a balloon that says "get well soon". how fitting. please, someone bring them a fucking beach ball.

(this is a mingle! go ahead and make top-levels or tag into other people's.)]

Comments

[skittering]

( every so often, lalli does indeed claim the bottle - maybe not as often as emil, but he can't let the swede empty the bottle by himself. that's how you kill a man, letting him drink a whole bottle of something by themselves. he's not seen it happen, but someone in the next village over died that way in his last few years in saimaa. he's not going to let emil do the same. even if that bottle was probably much stronger than this one.

even if those who die here supposedly come right back.

'i never thought we would leave.' only as he hears it does lalli realize he'd thought the same. they'd been there so long. long enough to lose each other and find each other and build a home and raise a cat who turned out pretty alright as far as cats go, even if she still lays on her prey once she kills it. sometimes even before she kills it. lalli's not sure where she got that. it's a very mikkel thing to do, to sit on something until it dies.

but while part of him (a strong part, but still only part) thought they'd never leave, the rest knew that one day they would. one day, they'd go back to a place in which they don't remember asgard. a place in which they can't speak to one another outside of their dreams, and they don't remember that they ever could. a place where they've never shared a home, only a tank and emil's subconscious, and they likely never will. they'll go their separate ways, stupid and ignorant, memories stolen away as if they never existed in the first place. )

Better here than where we came from. ( a statement he stands by, even knowing that this place was built to kill them all. )

[enflame]

❰ it's a very hard statement to stomach, but...it does ring true in some ways. if he had to choose between the three worlds, asgard would in hands down. but if that was taken off the table, and he had to choose. hmm.

the silent world is a devil he knows, but he remembers that there was a potential to forget everything upon going back to where you originally came from once taken out of it. a slate wiped so clean, and he's gained oh so much over the course of this time he's been away from his old home. so much that he admitted and stood by not seeing it as home anymore.

and the other choice, all of that kept...but potentially lost, over and over again. maybe it's sensible to grow numb and used to deaths and suffering that become cyclical, but he remembers dying once. to have to experience it numerous times, and to see others go through it...that might hurt so much more. what if it's a sick and twisted lie, part of the suffering to be created. you gear yourself up for someone to come back, and they don't. or some duplicate, a technicality they pass off as a promise.

but this is a lot to slosh around in his brain. many thoughts that swirl, and holding onto one concrete one at the moment is over-stimulating and makes his stomach preemptively churn. his phantom head wound also throbs slightly, but he doesn't dare go to touch it when lalli is around. ❱

At least there's alcohol. Flavored alcohol. And ice cream. And the cat. ❰ it's better to think positively, push it down and force something good up instead. emil leans precariously, finding a stopping point for his head against lalli's shoulder. ❱ I'm sure that shack is crawling with mice so Nukka will be thrilled. Not that I will be when there's a squished rat or two on the bed.

[skittering]

( those are all good-ish things, lalli can agree. the alcohol helps at times like these, and the ice cream is too cold but tastes good unless it's mustard.

and there's emil. an emil he remembers properly. an emil who now nearly unseats his balance to lean against lalli's shoulder, and the finn anchors his opposite hand on the grass to brace against the extra weight. without any real thought or hesitation, he presses the lower half of his face to the swede's hair in welcome, sighing into it as emil complains about squished rats in their bed. )

I'll get rid of them. ( perhaps it's the alcohol, but it's far too sound soft and fond right now, especially when the words are hummed against the other man's hair. )

[enflame]

❰ the promise of this chore being completed and the returned touch makes emil smile dumbly, leaning into it all the more with a tilt of his head. there's also something so comical about his ridiculous cat, lying somewhere on the bed with a 50/50 chance of a squished rodent underneath her once picked up. it's so gross, with no idea of why or how she picked up this behavior, but also...well, it's comical, and he sucks in a laugh. ❱

She reminds me of you. ❰ it's not the most flattering thing to say after talking about her compulsion for sitting on dead animals, but it's just so...very lalli-like. ❱ Stubborn...attached. Soft. ❰ because he is, so unexpectedly. ❱

[skittering]

( 'she reminds me of you.' above emil's tidy mop of hair, the finn's brow knits slightly. reminds him how? because she's a skilled hunter? 'stubborn,' emil supplies, and lalli decides he'll allow it. 'attached.' he also can't deny that one. but 'soft' has his nose wrinkling. )

'M not soft. ( spoken as if it's a particularly gross bug he's flicked off his sleeve. )