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odin is like “when thor was born the sun shone bright upon his beautiful face. i found loki on the sidewalk outside a taco bell”

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American Gods ep. 1 + hints/clues/foreshadowing

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“I’ll kill them all.”

“‘Course you will.”

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nickscratch‌:

The final words rang in his head over and over again.  No one ever gave Mephisto orders. Nor did anyone tell him what to do; not until these few choice set of circumstances of course.      “No, it’s not,” he said, voice filled with anger, “You may have been allowed to end the life of my son, but this has gone on for too long!” 

Or maybe it hadn’t exactly been long enough. The true amount of time didn’t matter to him. Nor did he seem to truly mind waiting, but at the same time, he was angered that things were not going as he’d ultimately planned.         It bothered him to the point where his own agitation out-weighed any benefit he could obtain from this arrangement. Even so, he barred his teeth once again; another warning and he took a  step froward. “We both know staying with you will end in the fall of both our realms.” Or so he  assumed at least. “Consider this a final warning.”

His eyes narrowed to slits at Mephisto’s claims, questioning the insidious intent that lingered behind such words. The fires still smoldered in the wake of such a treaty reached; peace that was acquired, rather than rightfully earned, for adopting the scion of a fiend whose life he’d claimed with his own hands.    “Your warnings fall flat at the feet of the All-Father, Mephisto. He who is the father of war and the god of the gallows. Should you once more clamor for conflict, I will humor such desires, but know that this time it is your life that I will claim next.”

His stance made clear, Odin punctuates his words with a firm tap of his staff, which started to glow with seidr magic. “Or relent, and show yourself in your truest colors; that you are naught but hollow terms and faleshoods. I do not care what you choose, only that you cease expending any more of my time.”

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hellfirebound‌:

Lying wasn’t what he intended, but idea of the word was still foreign to him. More specifically, he didn’t even know what lying meant. It was all still new;  until that moment, all he had done was spend time alone in Mephisto’s realm, and his focus had been  on staying out of trouble.     His training was going to begin soon, but for now, or so he was told at least, Ky needed to stay out of the way. After-all, they were in the middle of a War, and while he didn’t know exactly what that meant… what he did know was that it was bloody.

If Ky was being honest, he wanted to go back; to be where he knew things. To where he didn’t have to talk and he could just watch. It was, a term he had just learned; lonely. He just didn’t think that it mattered. Not when it was the only place he knew until that  time.      “Yes,” he finally said, eyes shifting towards the ground. “It…  bothers me.” However, he didn’t  say the part that he was thinking; that he’d be fine. He’d deal with it… something that he’d  heard before when Mephisto and Blackheart  were arguing one day.          “I’ll  be fine.” No, he wouldn’t, not even close, but he didn’t - no, he couldn’t voice his true thoughts on the matter. All he could do was try to hide his fear and hope  this was just a bad dream. That he’d wake up back home where he didn’t feel… so out of place (even though deep down Ky knew that he was the only one out of place there).

Odin could hardly blame the boy for his want to return to the past, and had made his peace with the fact that he may always harbor such a desire. Thus, he decides to tolerate the boy’s claimed wish for the time being, grey-blue gaze sympathetic as he settles a large hand on Ky’s small shoulder.      “Continue to repeat such to yourself, boy, and you will know what madness is.” Repetition wouldn’t benefit his future heir, but the All-Father knew that this matter required a delicate approach.What Frigga would say in a time like this, he wasn’t sure, and missed her presence more with each day that passed.

 As a spoil of war, the Black one’s son was a valuable bargaining chip; and old Wotan would plainly refuse to let him slip from his sight. Judging a change in scenery to be required, he steps back from Ky to grant him some space, proposing a new suggestion.     “But let’s not waste time on sorrows felt. There is much work to be done if we are to make a king of you one day, young prince. Are you sufficiently prepared for such an undertaking?”

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conflictandruin‌:

Despite his mention of the fallen counterpart to Hephaestus, Ares held no ill will to the god for doing him in, and casting him into the molten metal he had forced many a human sacrifice from.  Ares simply wanted the other to know the extent of the warbringer’s knowledge.  There’s a fire in the unwavering gaze of war as it’s continually cast upon the Norse God.  Nose simply held a bit higher, all the more confident in the presence of the god of the younger pantheon.

“And what makes you think that our kind can stand against the new American Gods?  Even war now is tainted by the touch of modern technology.  Drones, satellites, automatic weaponry–”  More sauntering steps forward towards Wednesday are taken, purposefully lording himself and his massive build over the other god.  Of course, given how boring war had become, given how dull the senseless bloodshed had fallen, he had no intention of declining the offer, even if in the long run it did wind up killing him.  Death of him as a god in brutal and bloody combat was far more fulfilling than lingering without cause.

The presence of war and bloodshed itself would certainly greatly change the outcome of any battle.  He knew that was why Odin was here.  To improve his odds by adding strife itself to his ranks.  Ares could not blame him, he was not a master strategist, but it was an intelligent move to gather a makeshift pantheon of your own from the shambles of what had once been.

“What makes you think yourself capable of leading the forces of the Old Gods into the age?”  He presses the newly honed edge of his long sword into the ground at his feet, dusting battle worn hands off to allow his arms to fold over his chest.  Still locking his unwavering sights fully upon the other god.  “How can you offer such promises with no guarantee, when it is the ones like me taking all the risks?”

“It won’t be easy,” he admits, recognizing the difficulty of the task put to them. It wouldn’t be a worthwhile cause to pursue in his mind had the odds of their success broadly outstripped the younger races, they who drew their strength from the perks of the modern day. It had them at a disadvantage, yes, but Wednesday secretly saw that as a perk. The new gods native to these shores did not know conflict as he and the greek did, and he was going to use that to its fullest effect come the start of the war at Rock City.

“Just because they’ve traded spears and bows for gatling guns and nuclear missiles does not an undefeatable foe make.” Gathering his divine ducks neatly in a row, the gallows god raises an index finger, emulating a schoolmaster correcting a student who had spoken incorrectly. He anticipated that the losses they’d incur in the face of the new gods’ modernistic tactics would be heavy, but it bothered him little. As long as each fallen god went down screaming any of his many names in hate and fury, he was poised to benefit the most from this deadly gamble.

“Though I suppose I do owe you some sort of explanation. I simply came along at the right time. ” At the sight of Ares putting down his sword, Wednesday used it as a chance to commence walking slowly around strife’s agent in a circular fashion, the act of doing so helping him to think. “What, would you rather I let any of my remaining sons take the lead instead?” He shook his head in disbelief. “No, our chance of success is not guaranteed. But what sort of fool declines the offer to dampen their rusting weapons with the blood of their enemies, hmm?.” The smile he gives Ares is cryptic, saying nothing of the fact that collecting favors as well as a health dose of manipulation had contributed to the success he’d achieved so far.

“So tell me; would you rather seize the chance to taste glory one last time, or live out the remainder of your long years falling deeper into obscurity by each day that passes?”

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Job well done.

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hellfirebound‌:

Loneliness; he didn’t even know what the word meant. Let alone what it truly was to feel such a thing. Nor did he know how to actively pinpoint what he was feeling. So far, the only emotions he had truly understood were rage and self importance. 

This was the first time he had truly not just experienced, but understood curiosity, but not the sort he had before. This time, he had questions - loads of questions. He wouldn’t ask them though; it wasn’t his place… that was something that was instilled in him even before hand.  Asking questions usually came with snide remarks from the Black one, but more so a pat on the head from the red one. Here… it was odd. People were like him; they were not… he didn’t know how to even describe them, but he knew he ‘fit’ in far better.      “I’ve been fine.” No, he hadn’t; he knew something was missing, but as to what? He didn’t know. The boy accepted that he would always be different - it just wasn’t the case here. Truth be told… he didn’t even know what fine was. It was acceptance - no, only acceptance and obedience.“i’ll…” he lowered his head and glanced away from the All-father. “It’s just…” he couldn’t even get the word out; he didn’t even know how to explain ‘strange’ but he attempted to try his best by saying something similar. “Not the same.”

He strains to listen as Ky fights with his words, jotting down mental note after mental note in regards to the child’s behavior, mannerisms and, surprisingly, sullenness. At first he thought all demons to be born reckless and raging, a hazard to any who had the unfortunate luck to cross their paths. But such proclivities weren’t seen in this one. Perhaps it was his humanity keeping him in check? Odin could only speculate at this early juncture.      “Do not lie, child. You are clearly far from any conceivable definition of ‘fine’.” Insomuch as wellness could be lent definition, anyway.

“And this fact bothers you, yes?” It was hardly surprising. Those kept in terrible places would long to return to such habitats if removed from them. He’d have a difficult time trying to convince Ky’lar that being constantly beneath Mephisto’s thumb was no life at all, and would go so far as to show him such should he be granted permission to do so.      “Would you rather I return you to the sulfurous pits where thence I plucked your writhing, fragile form from its latest torment, hmm?”

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@nickscratch​

“You forget yourself, All-father,” he said pointedly. “The last time I lost someone in Asgard… they didn’t return anywhere.” He was referring to his son; one, who didn’t turn up in any other dimension or even his own. He could have been stuck in Hel, but he’d even searched there… nothing.   However, the fault was not his own; he had let the other die. It wasn’t his plan at first, but the war was already lost. In truth, the demon would fight to the very last, but in truth, even Mephisto knew that the only way to stop the fighting was when the instigator was gone.  His son had to die. They had been over this before; Mephisto could have saved him from his fate, but at the last moment chose not to do so. It was something the demon had gone over time and time again; even now, the only way to survive was to make that choice.                    A choice… he instantly regretted.

 “The one you call your son has no right to be called such a thing.” His teeth barred as distaste dripped from his lips. It was another choice he made; to seal the deal between a peace. Mephisto knew how things worked in the nine realms and that giving up his grandson would be the best choice. Especially since Blackheart killed anyone he could have stayed with on Earth; slaughtering the cult and making sure it was a pretty brutal blood bath. If that didn’t happen, maybe Ky wouldn’t have been forced to be raised in his dimension for a time, and he wouldn’t be in this situation. It was all in the past now; he couldn’t change it, but he still knew that one day (even against odin’s wishes) he’d be able to take his Grandson to where he belonged. If that date ever came, he would finally be able to put his full efforts back on Earth, but he had to wait… and scheme until the time was proper.               “Or has your old age caught up with you and you’ve forgotten not just what he is, but what he’s capable of as well?” 

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Seldom did he who watched over the Nine Realms from upon his throne motion to intervene, cut out the malignant weed that touched at the boundaries of reality and time, threatening to disrupt both. Blackheart was an enemy capable of doing considerable damage and as per his remit as benevolent ruler of mortal and god alike, the old gallows god had stood up from his throne and acted, raining swift justice down upon the hellspawn elected to die.      Boasting not of the victory that had clearly been his, Odin celebrated in other ways, in particular by claiming the pup that was of the slain beast’s brooding. It was the same child that saw him enter into fresh conflict with the red menace who he was arguing with, in a surprisingly heated fashion, at the present time. 

“Silence! I shall be the judge of that, and none will sway my decision.” His gnarled fingers tighten more around the staff as Mephisto flashed him a warning expression, heating what thin ice his defensive argument stood upon to the point that it risked cracking and separating.    “I am well aware of his lineage, and the potential for evil that lurks in his rotten heart.” A trait, he realized early on, that no amount of coddling could stamp out. Such suited old Wotan perfectly, however -- better to nurture a savage heart than raise a pacifist, in his warped mind. “Should he pose any danger, I will be sure to direct his furies in your direction, deal-maker. Which therein you’ll find the ending to our debate; the boy stays with me, and that is final.”

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conflictandruin‌:

“Had I not considered us allies, I would have taken this opportunity to use my freshly sharpened weapon to behead you as you did my Roman cousin Vulcan.”  The blood from the bullets forged did not just fuel the Roman counterpart to his dearest brother Hephaestus, the bloodshed and conflict so too also flowed through the veins of the God of War and Conflict.  As being the god of conflict, he knew the truth behind what Wotan had done.  His attention turned from the honed edge of his blade, to aim that crimson stare at the god.

“Vulcan however, was a fool to think he can trust the gods of the new age and not face the wrath of the old.”

There is no smile to break those stern features as Ares rises back to his feet, sword still heavy in grasp while the God of War never let’s the other leave the focus of his sights.  Towering high over the head of the other god at his full mass.  He lurches forward with slow steps.

“I miss the days of old.  When all a soldier needed for war was the ability to raise his shield high, and shunt his spear forward, and the proper panoply.  The days when the senseless slaughter of man was more plentiful.”

Such words earn another smile from Wednesday, who felt more amused than threatened. “He took a gamble that didn’t pan out.” He says of the matter, his voiced thoughts accompanied by a slight shrug and exasperated expression. It did pain him to have to lop off his head, but in doing so he found that the last weapon the roman god had crafted for him was a fine blade indeed.

For his part, the gallows god didn’t waver beneath Ares’ gaze, but instead seemed to test it, as one being who drew strength from sacrifices made in his name to another, head tilting slowly backwards to maintain line of sight. That head cropped with salt and pepper colored hair leans in one direction before pitching the opposite way, carefully considering what the greek god had to say before putting forward his own response.

“As do I. That is why I’ve embarked on his continent-spanning trip of mine, to remind the old fools amongst our kind of who we were before sitting back and let the passage of time wipe our names from the minds of those descended from our former worshipers.” Most had grown weaker, decrepit, even. Which all but guaranteed a valuable opportunity for new gods of technology to arise and finish the job that neglect had started; by threatening to wipe out all of the old gods, taking their place.

“And what good is any battle fought without he who personifies war itself being in attendance, hmm?” He states his remark less like a question and pitches it as fact, deferring to Ares’ own respectable power in this instance whilst he was hard at work assembling the pieces of his greatest scheme concocted to date.

“Join my cause, and I’ll promise you’ll never again long for the days long gone by.”

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conflictandruin‌:

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Sparks fly as the adamantine steel grinds against the spinning stone.  Those fiery piercing eyes of the God of War watching as the age of his sword is finely honed.  He pays little mind as the younger God-King walks through the doors of his modern day Aeropagus.  The men of the new world did not worship his ilk as they had those like Wednesday.  That meant his siblings and family fell to the wayside, swathed in obscurity.  The same could not be said about Ares.  The God of War, bloody, violent, gruesome, and relentless combat.  The New World had not willingly worshiped the gods of his land, however, this was a country founded on the backs of others, rose from the ashes of combat with another land.  It was a country bathed in bloody and violent war.

For that reason, Ares thrived.

“Seeking out allies in a land of the modern god, are we?”

The edge hits the stone again, grinding along the edge, sending more sparking shards off the edge and into the air.  A god war, from what the rumors spread along the grapevine had said.

With his eye turned towards the new world, he of many names and titles had set out to rally those willing to join his cause. Their presence was fading, this he knew more than the rest, with those who used to celebrate their divine idols turning to powers that were more than the rest. This saw to the creation of a most formidable opposition, new gods borne of these lands who hadn’t uprooted and sailed west in the hopes of restoring themselves to their former glories, with the place becoming uncomfortably crowded as a result.

Something simply had to give, and old Wotan thought himself best suited to the task.

“Seemed as good a place as any to try and so.” Tone coarse but amiable, Wednesday stepping into Ares’ abode, a chipper smile creasing his leathery face. Both his real and glass eye watched the war god tend to his weapon, momentarily fascinated by the dedication shown to his craft. At least this one knew the value of keeping his arsenal in good repair, which was more than he could say for the others he’d met in his roadtrip across the country so far.

“Granted we can consider ourselves to be allies in the first place. Do forgive me for being skeptical-- can’t quite decide who I can trust, these days.”

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❝I know every corner of these lands, every language spoken, every war waged, every deal struck.❞

Of that he had no doubt, should what was being reported by his ravens be believed. Few could so much as sneeze within the breadth of the nine realms without old Grimnir becoming aware of it, with particular attention paid to each outbreak of strife and conflict. 

Tyr was but a hundred summers deceased when this pup clawed his way from chaos’ bosom, rage given form and shape that preferred the company of dustlings than his own kind. He should feel angered by this, displeased that a god, even an unconventional one, would make such a decision, but for the All-Father, it worked to his advantage.

The less seen of Tyr’s savage offspring the better, for fail did he to see Gunnar as a worthy addition to the cabinet of war gods; not at this point in time, anyway.

“And what do you mean for me to say? That you have progressed from a naive infant to a learnt child knowledgeable in a pointless field of expertise?” He’d trodden upon the Earth long before the humans who would come to populate it possessed the faculties required to bestow upon him his various titles and names, let alone be recognised for who he was. He knew intimately the lie of the land and everything that featured upon it, right down to the seeds from which new plants grew. 

Thus was there little point in Gunnar educating his wistful grandfather, for Odin was already well versed.

“Were you meant to boast, I’d advise you to cease at once. And what do you know of war, boy? Dare you to refer to the trite squabbles of these petty mortals as such? You have not seen war as I have, son of Tyr. You have not lived it as I have, have not been baptised by it.”

Harsh words to be sure, but he’d no reason to hold back.

“Go and make such claims to your uncle if you must, but do not waste my time with callow babble, god of savages.”

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//i’m! going to be using ia.n mcshan.e as fc for odin. i feel he fits the old wanderer aesthetic more than  an.thony ho.pkins

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