Give Me More

Ah, was he ready for the yearly blót! It was a time for celebration, for passion and for joy; though this year he felt unusually somber. Perhaps he owed the gods a more quiet evening of reflection, rather than his usual frivolity. The elder Finnvi man took his time reply to Katja's call, letting his mind clear as he made his way quietly to the gathering. He swore he felt the presence of the gods tonight, which he expected on a Winter-night; but their presence hung startlingly heavy in the air, both invigorating him and soothing him. He nearly shuddered as he felt a brief wind rustle his coat, as Jǫrmungandr slithered tighter around his neck, her face buried in his thick coat. She hated the cold, and the wind - and yet she somehow persisted here.

The former aching in his limbs seemed to have faded by the time he reached the gathering. Likely one of the last ones here, though he couldn't help but let a wide grin overtake his features. "Kids!" he'd call out Katja's children, his tail waving in joy. "Are you excited for your first þing?" He was certain they would be, and warily Jǫrmungandr slid to peek from the fur of his neck at the wolves before them.