❀•°❀°•❀
Midsummer's day, main thread
「 Skill Point ― n/a 」

The scene had been set, and the dawn light had faded into the baby blues that graced the sky that day. The southern island was awake with life, quests from all over welcomed to the island for a celebration of good health, fortune, and to ward off the evil spirits that seemed to possess this aging world.

A couple of rock slabs had been used to cater to the festivities, the boars hunted the day prior were laid out for a feast, and fish and various vegetables were available for those less inclined by the red, gamey meat. Of course, it wouldn't be a Viking festivity without the honey-glazed berries, fermented just right for anybody to enjoy, scattered in various piles across the slabs. Tyr was hiding the good stuff to keep it out of reach of the children; the psychedelics were only for adult consumption.

Cairns had been built, and scattered around the grassy hills, found even amongst the various groves that broke up the open landscape. He'd spent a couple of hours a day trying to source antlers and bones for the occasion, decorating each podium with them while vines, grasses, and flowers had been picked that morning to set the stage and complete the decor.

Behind him was one of those groves, a spot chosen for one purpose alone. The god stood upon the worn, dusty earth underneath the natural arch of a rowan tree, a tree believed to bring protection and life, that was equally as decked out in flowered vines and other aesthetically pleasing decorations. This would be the center of their festivities in the valley.

He stood tall, awaiting his guests while casting a watchful gaze across it all. Pride was blossoming in his chest as a gentle breeze blew dandelion fluff and other random petals across the territory. It was truly a sight to behold and enjoy, especially with all the springs just waiting to cool everyone off during the peak of the sun's rays. It was a time to remember, to seek forgiveness, experience love, and regenerate all that you thought you had lost.

He spied the first beginning to arrive and straightened, a charming smile falling naturally onto his maw in greeting.

---

to help visuals, I very much picture the south as the lower altitudes of Switzerland and Norway. Rolling hills with trees scattered around, springs here and there running through the valleys, with waterfalls scattered around in areas that meet cliffs. Clear views of the mountains in the back.

credits
Banner : Marko Blažević

---

about 10 months

The first on the scene was the Skorungr's teenaged son - the morning sun gleamed in his ice-and-fire gaze as he approached the starting point for the festivities.

Whatever grief, whatever anger, whatever shit he had going on with himself - these unfortunate impulses to destroy, his visions, his fear...Sverke packed it all up. He shoved it all down, away, where he couldn't see it, and where no one else could, either. There was a party to put on, after all. His father needed this, Sverke thought. Maybe they all did.

The young prince arrived clad in midnight velvet, his fresh-washed pelt freckled with starlight catching the rays of the dawning sun. He'd put in an effort, and it was clear - from his well-groomed fur to the daisies and wolfsbane woven into the strands draped around his neck. He was gradually beginning to fill out, looking more and more like a proper young man than the awkward juvenile gangliness that had long plagued him. Sverke lifted his chin proudly upon spotting Tyr, closing the distance with a prancing jog, his tail bannered behind him and a smug smirk upon his face.

Pabbi. He greeted, before doing a little spin in front of Tyr - clearly looking for praise for his stylish 'fit, emphasized by the cocky tilt to his crown as he came to a halt.

---

---

The sky was graced with the baby blues of a robins egg almost. A beautiful racing color that spread across the sky and was nearly clear of clouds, only finding a few scattered about. Thor poked his head from the den and pulled himself out to head towards the gathering area for the festivities.

He hadn't met many wolves here, Lilja, Tyr, and Asgeir but he hoped to branch out a bit more at the ceremony. There was bound to be some sort of enhancing substance that would take away his anxieties... Why he had them suddenly he didn't know, it hadn't ever been a thought as a human...

Upon arriving he smiled, noting Tyr was already there, surrounded by the scents of flowers, vines, grasses and honeyed berries flooded his senses. His eyes danced across the decorated area and he slowly approached Tyr who was already seeming to be greeted by another.

He stopped a few feet away to take his turn with the king, a smile dancing on his features at the king and the younger male who seemed to do a small cocky dance before Tyr.

「 Skill Point ― n/a 」

The festivities had begun, and Asgeir was raring to go. He joined later than his brother, but that did not stop him from coming with no less of an entrance, poised like a prince as he walked with confidence towards his father. While he was not as adorned as Sverke, he still found himself decorated with braids and greenery, grasses woven into the locks of his hair by no less than the little paws of Lilja's raccoon companion. He wanted to look just as flashy.

Thorvald was before him, and Asgeir gave no break, lightly bumping the old man with a rather large grin on his maw as he greeted his father.

Far, he mock bowed, turning his head to the side as he displayed his festive look. He merely glanced at the man for his approval before moving off and jostling Sverke with a laugh.

You look stupid, Bror. he said with a chuckle, continuing to shove the teenager while looking back at Thorvald with a savage smirk, offering the red man a wink. Maybe, if he got drunk enough, he might challenge the beastly man to another wrestling match. He was still floating with victory since their last.

As celebration and a feast sang to many, Rhamanthus couldn't possibly turn down the open invitation and miss out on the festivities. Beneath the rowan tree's epic arch did he meander, eyes of alabaster warm as he took it all in. Týr had done a wondrous job, getting everything put together. He'd be sure to both thank and give praise later.

Few had arrived before him; dressed in pelts or wildflowers tangled within northern fur. The former king felt...woefully underdressed. All he had to offer and adorn himself was a lily of the valley that Siru had gifted him, tucked between the furs of his neck. A treasured thing that flower is; after the celebration, he'd seek a gift of his own to bestow upon the gentle lady.

From across the stretch he watched Týr and his son—the younger of the two twirling about with a smile vivacious and proud. Rhadamamthus cannot help but chuckle to himself as he strides past the boulders holding the feast.

Memories flicker behind his eyes and in his mind. Ararnir's celebration of Midsummer, vibrant and lively. The great feasts held in the great hall. Women and children flitting about, laughter filling the air. It was a time where all the bad and ugly of the world couldn't reach anyone.

And while this isn't Ararnir and these aren't palace halls, Rhad is delighted either way. Today, there would be no worries. And perhaps today, he'd have the pleasure of meeting more of his fellow pack members.