#tharrr

http://notspeedyanymore.tumblr.com/post/47620301455/closed-creatingthehavok

It was cold. The winter wind whipped up from the ocean in violent increments, the vestiges of that first frozen howling of Gunningagap, and wrapped its fingers around her fur-swathed form. Golden Asgard gleamed before them as a brilliant spear head sticking out of a landscape embraced by snow. Harsh and glinting against the brightness of the land. Loki blinked light ghosts from her eyes, tearing her gaze from Asgard's towers to where the three others in the party were trudging through the snow along with her, furs packed as tightly around their forms as they were around Loki's. The Yule tree would be beautiful, as it always was, and the anticipation rang in her ears and through her blood in a way it had not since she was a child. How long had it been since last Loki had celebrated Yule with her family in Asgard? Too long, perhaps. The snow crunched satisfactorily beneath her boots, and she listened to the prattle of the young Loki as he jogged along around all three adults, chattering like a magpie. Before her went Odin, as big as a bear and seeming one for the black bear pelt he wore around his shoulders, leading the horse bound to the sleigh to which they would hitch the tree, and just a little behind was Sif, wrapped in the furs of a wolf, lean and lithe in the snow which sank up to almost the tops of their boots. Loki pulled her spotted lynx furs closer, hood doing little where it was blown back by the wind. The forest loomed before them in its wintry splendour. Surely this was the most happy she had been.