Torsten van Horn

Josh smiled and nodded, “That could be true. I learned so long ago that it would make sense,” he agreed.

He was still smiling when Tor accepted the cookie and he kept a dead serious expression at the joke, “Oh no, I kept those upstairs, wouldn’t want to mix them and be one of the fatalities,” he said in a casual tone and then offered the hint of a smirk at his own joke, “but I’ll let you know, just for you to choose the safe ones during the event.”

;

He chuckled when the other rallied the joke. “Oh, you definitely tell me which one is safe because I’ll be mindlessly eat a bit of everything during an event.” Tor just wanted to try a teeny tiny bit of food served in an event. He doesn’t eat that much. He just wanted to try everything. That’s what make life worth a living, right?

“They certainly have a good marketing department,” the wendigo drawled, eyes moving around the room the enormous number of holiday decorations around. He had never celebrated Christmas and now it seemed that it was just a staple of winter. Honestly, he wondered how many people here actually believed in the story for the holiday or were just celebrating in a more secular fashion? In the end, though, the outcome was the same so why should he care? 

“Fair enough.” Hwan took a similar view. He was working for them because the alternative had been slavery. However, his loyalty extended only so far as he was paid. Beyond that, he saw no reason to help, something that had become plainly obvious during the invasion. The wendigo had eaten anyone who got in his way, whether they were masters, slaves, staff, or invaders. Their blood and flesh had temporarily sated his hunger so at least they had done something helpful in their final moments. 

“Finish your journal? Are you writing some story?” He was actually curious about that piece of the other’s plans. Drinking seemed like a steady thing to do and he was certain a good many people would be getting drunk on Christmas. Some barely needed an excuse to break out the alcohol. Perhaps he would join in, alone. Loud people grated on him and the drunk were some of the loudest. The barest hint of a smile pulled at his face as he thought about spending time with Jupiter, but the expression settled back into neutrality as he drank. 

;

“More like a collection of my poems. It’s a shitty one but that’s what keep me sane after all these times.” He shrugged. Writing reminds him who he is and keep him in the right path or else he’ll be lost and doesn’t know who or what he is anymore living for a really long period of time like this. “Are there poems back in where you lived?” Tor asked, he rarely go further than the middle east. It was too far away from his gods.

💕 for a love headcanon

Tor is a very passionate lover but he doesn’t know how to be romantic. So thing would get weird when he tried to. He’ll be very devoted and always keep his words. Will break his heart when his lover leave him or have to depart in some ways.

🏡 for a home headcanon

He’s kind on into cottagecore, a dream house where’s out of the grid and full of flowers and trees. His permanent home would be in a countryside, not far from a forest where he could just live in peace with his loved one as long as he could (because most of them usually dies by natural causes when they’re together for a period of time).

⛈️ for a sadness headcanon 

Mathias was enjoying all the festivities of the Ball. Despite everything else in his life, he tried his best to have a good time. Things were going to be difficult from here on out, especially being possessed by his own brother. But that was something he would just have to deal with. Until then, he would carry on with his life like he was doing before. 

He stood to the side, watching as everyone around him mingled. Mathias hadn’t yet felt ready to mingle as well, so he settled on just watching. He was nursing a warm drink when someone bumped shoulders with him. The necromancer’s eyes darted to the side at the person, then looked up to see the telltale green leaves of a mistletoe hanging above them. “Oh…” he mumbled, “I…I didn’t see that there, sorry”.

.

“Not this fucking EVIL PLANTS again.” Tor’s being reckless about mistletoes lately. He doesn’t really think about it and haven’t really stumbled on them for a while. Then the evil plant just jumped out from a corner attacking him like he’s Martha and Thomas Wayne. He isn’t upset about being bumped into. It’s Christmas anyway. He’s enjoying his drinks looking at people but then mistletoe up above them showed up and is the problem.

“So what? Are we having bad luck or something?” The Valkyrie doesn’t want to approach for a kiss first but also doesn’t want to have a terrible bad luck according to the old tales either.

Christmas Time

Carter wandered the halls of Krovs enjoying the sight of the Christmas decorations. It wasn’t until he was older that he understood and saw Christmas decorations. Here at Krovs, the festivities were raging and he was given goodies and gifts left and right. It was a nice holiday. 

He was looking at his phone as he had gotten a text from Percy saying he had some baked goods waiting for him. Carter was grinning at his phone and not looking where he was going when he bumped into someone.  “Oh! sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He held out a hand to them, “Are you okay?”

.

The bump made him get down onto the floor, dropped the flask on himself, spilling the clear drinks almost everywhere on his shirt. Tor usually get angry about something like this but it seems like he’s getting drunk so he doesn’t really care about anything anymore. The first thing he checked is his flask if there’s some of his precious left inside.

“Spilled most of my drinks but still looking pretty so no complaints.” The valkyrie gets up and check on himself if he breaks anything. “No bones cracked, and not looks like I peed myself. No problem, pal.”

“Are you heading to somewhere? Because I have no place to go. Like— at all.” Tor asked shamelessly. He’s desperate having some company during holidays. Everyone seems to have themselves booked with their family and friends already.

The familiar nodded, still cautiously looking between the other two men like he was trying to find the final piece in a puzzle. “Yes, we met on the grass one day,” Bear answered. Boyd looked both relieved and nervous at the same time, only making the demon feel more suspicious. “How do you two know each other?” he asked. 

There was no teasing in Bear’s voice this time. He didn’t like the way Tor called him Boyd’s friend either. A friend. A slave. Claimed. The familiar had never been hesitant about what they were to each other but perhaps he should have been. His brow furrowed and he turned his gaze away from the two men, deciding to go get one of the cups and fill it with water instead of mead. Normally Bear would want to drink but he didn’t feel up to it now. 

He downed half the glass before he made his way back to the table, hovering now that he didn’t know where he stood between the two men. If Boyd was putting on a show, he should have told Bear what role he was to play. At the moment, it felt like there was a funny joke being told between the other two men and he had been left out.

next: @unapologetictor​ | then: @gaothnamara​

“Yeah, I was talking to my gods under the sun as usual, then he showed up.” He gives Boyd the short description of how they met that better than ‘We met on grass.’ Tor give Bear a pat on his shoulder, trying to be as friendly as he could. Only the gods know he is really bad at making friends when he tried to make one.

“We’re— uh, old friends.” said Torsten, looking straight at Boyd as he says the word ‘friends’, quite unsure with what he just said. Tor doesn’t talk much about his feelings for Boyd, even until these days, because he’s too afraid to say those words out loud. “I, uh, my people attacked his lands and suddenly we become friends, sort of.” The beginning of their past was a little bit tricky and happened so long ago he doesn’t really remember the details. 

“Then I travelled with Boyd long time ago. — Then that happened. Does he know about that?” He turned to Boyd when he talked about that. The valkyrie rubs his hand on the back of his neck. He’s nervous talking about that especially in front of Boyd himself. It was not his fault the incident happened yet he still felt guilty his sword were turned against his loved one.

Conall did as he was told as quickly as he could, which wasn’t very quickly at all considering how stiff his fingers were. Moving closer to the fire, he manages to get everything off - save the collar of course - just as the blanket hits him and he wraps it around himself as he crouches down. “T-tea… tea’s… tea’s fine…” he managed to get out, distracted by the prickling sensation over his skin as he started to warm up, “’M Conall… thanks… uh, thanks for your help, I’d… I wouldn’ta made it much farther… you look familiar?” 

.

   “Maybe,” he answered giving the male a wink before chuckling and laughing as he walked backwards into the hot spring and smiled, looking at the Valkyrie. “You are correct. This is the place; some place I like to come to, to relax and breath and sometimes like bringing handsome and beautiful guys like yourself with me.”

.

Josh chuckled and was about to offer the taller man a drink when he noticed him moving towards the cookies’ trays.

He watched carefully, wanted to make sure the cookies were as good as he expected them to be and he almost beamed at the guard’s words, “Thank you! I’m so glad you liked them! I was nervous because I feared I had forgotten the recipe,” he confessed.

Without thinking it for long, Josh picked one of the sleeves filled with colored icing and offered it, “Would you like to give it a try?” he said smiling at his words, “I appreciate that! I think I was good before coming here. I might be a bit out of practice, but it’s relieving to know I didn’t them mess up too much.”

.

“Perhaps the recipe is in your soul, not in your brain. Someone is just born to be a good baker, I guess.” Tor shrugged. He’s pretty sure though Josh does really forget the recipe he would be able to come up with a new one. The one he just finished is really good. It’s not like one could make good cookies just knowing the recipe.

“You’re not. It makes sense that you would think of your own culture first.” Hwan didn’t consider himself to be without a culture, but he also knew that his own had fallen by the wayside as he had spent less and less time with people. Being a solitary person by nature had made that perfectly fine. He jumped slightly at the pat then calmed. “If I have very little interest in hanging around people, then having them all work when I’m off sounds perfectly fine. I’ll be able to read in peace.” Still, the man had a point. Talking about work at all times was boring and showed how empty one’s life was. “Alright then,” he shrugged, “what shall we discuss instead? Perhaps you could explain more of these traditions to me.”

“Doesn’t make much of a difference?” His abilities had made a great deal of difference during the rebellion, although he had not helped either side very much. Most of the people he had eaten had been rebels only because those were the ones he found first. Anyone who had gotten in his way was eaten and the taste of their flesh had satisfied his hunger for a short time. He felt his stomach growl at the memory and he huffed. “Have you given any thought about the destruction of the castle at some point?” Nothing lasted forever and sooner or later there would be a successful rebellion.

Given how much the other seemed to value spending time with others, the wendigo was shocked he had no one himself. “You don’t have anyone?” he asked, confused. “Then what do you plan to do?” Hwan shrugged. “My claim is rather innocent so we will most likely spend time in the kitchen or reading. Perhaps the greenhouse will be nice as well.” He was not a romantic person so planning anything like a holiday ‘date’ was difficult.

.

“Ugh, I don’t even know where to starts. The world is turning too fast. I was born before this ‘Christmas’ thing starts, and Boom! now it’s everywhere.” The valkyrie take a sip out of his glass as he speaks. Realizing he’s getting older and older is something Tor doesn’t want to admit though technically he’s already dead.

“Well, not my property so it’s not my problem.” He shrugged. His view on the ‘loyalty’ towards the vampires is kind of bizarre. Tor works and give them respect but not not devoted to them, just giving them the same amount he get paid. There isn’t no use giving the undead the extras and so that they could have nothing owe to each other when the things get some ‘change’ in the future which he’s sure it’ll come any time soon. “Our problem is the clean up part but still—” Tor shrugged again instead of finishing his sentence. He can’t explain his idea in words and assume that Hwan might get the idea.

💫 : If your muse has powers, do they utilize these abilities into the festive season? How?

⛰ : Have any pivotal events of their life happened at Christmas? A significant memory that’s stuck with them forever?

🌿 : How do they feel about Mistletoe? Have they ever used it / had it used on them?

📝 : Does your muse or their family have any holiday traditions?