It's a familiar feeling to Loki, the burst of merriment, the hush that follows, and then the rumble of something darker and more primal beneath. It's the same dance that he will perform, later in the winter, with the Mari Lwyd, followed by the Odensjakt. He wasn't certain of what would follow the celebrations, and upon seeing the parade of demons he still can't be completely certain of their intent, but the pattern is familiar: the appearance, the drumbeat, the curtain between worlds thin and torn for a single night.
How could he possibly refuse to join in?
The children, fortunately, have been taken home and tucked into bed a while ago, and so the figure that approaches the parade is alone, a smoke-colored mare with blue irises, but red eyeshine that catches in the torchlight. If there is space to weave between the marchers, she'll do so, darting and circling lightly on soundless hooves, but it won't take long for her to settle and match the pace of the others.
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It's a familiar feeling to Loki, the burst of merriment, the hush that follows, and then the rumble of something darker and more primal beneath. It's the same dance that he will perform, later in the winter, with the Mari Lwyd, followed by the Odensjakt. He wasn't certain of what would follow the celebrations, and upon seeing the parade of demons he still can't be completely certain of their intent, but the pattern is familiar: the appearance, the drumbeat, the curtain between worlds thin and torn for a single night.
How could he possibly refuse to join in?
The children, fortunately, have been taken home and tucked into bed a while ago, and so the figure that approaches the parade is alone, a smoke-colored mare with blue irises, but red eyeshine that catches in the torchlight. If there is space to weave between the marchers, she'll do so, darting and circling lightly on soundless hooves, but it won't take long for her to settle and match the pace of the others.