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Thistle was the first to arrive, with Tveir in quick succession behind her. Ragnar watched as his Queen Wife laid the prey she had caught for the feast down beside the fawn he had caught for the occasion, reveled into her touch, rare though it was these days for the few seconds she offered it to him. It was gone too soon, however, and he watched her retreat into the shadows with unreadable eyes. Ragnar had just been about to call her closer but then decided to allow her her space as he had promised he would, turning his eyes to Tveir when his second born son approached bearing his gift for the feast proudly. "Very good, Tveir. We will feast upon it with great pride," Ragnar humored his son with a smile and twinkle of affection in his eyes, as he took his paw and ruffled the boy's fur atop his head watching as he ran to join Thistle. She was much too far away for him, and Ragnar did not want her or Tveir to be left out of the festivities and with a subtle inclination of his muzzle invited her to come closer. If he were not acting as a Preist to the Gods he would have invited her to stand beside him. It was as Tveir retreated that Ragnar looked to Gyda. She had been the only one of her siblings to stay with him through the entire process of getting things ready, of arranging the bones and piles of related items, taking his advice with a grain of salt and readjusting what she had done until he met his satisfaction. Floki, Ragnar couldn't help but think, would not only have been proud of Gyda but he likely would have liked the child immensely. Gyda did not join Thistle or her brother, however, seeming intent on staying with him and Ragnar did not mind, calling the Scandinavian Princess to his side with a soft, "Gyda." Sparing a glimpse at Tveir in case he, too, wished to join at the makeshift temple that was nothing as grand as the one Floki had kept maintained and added to in Odinn's Cove.
Atreyu was the next to arrive on the scene, setting down his food with the others, before he greeted Ragnar with a lick to his chin, followed by Julooke, whose shoulders were slumped in what Ragnar thought was shame, proven to the scarred Scandinavian when his healing subordinate apologized. "You have nothing to apologize for Julooke," Ragnar told her with a soft lick to her cheek. It was his Priestess Wife that followed in after Julooke, adding her gift to the feast pile, and coming forth to greet him. "The Gods will appreciate that, Nerian but remember to have fun tonight." Tonight was a celebration, and if the jovial atmosphere of a festival wasn't enough to lighten his spirits and help erase the anger, and frustration that plagued him most days the Berserker mushrooms would do their job nicely. Verrine arrived next adding to their feast pile and Ragnar acknowledged the male's bow with a nod of his head, understanding that Verrine's elusiveness was in favor of taking care of Julooke who was still healing. Ragnar was a family man, even if it most, it did not appear that way if they were privy to the fact that he had taken a second wife at Thistle's permission, but he was and he understood that your wives and children came first. Ein and Beric were the last ones to join in, and though Ragnar noticed that some of the pack was absent he paid no mind to it because the festival of itself was optional.
It was more for his children's and his own benefit than anyone else's since it focused around thanking the Gods for all that they had given them and all that they would give in the future.
"Thank you all for coming," Ragnar began when everyone had settled into a spot. "I have never led one of these Festivals without my friend Floki before and I'm afraid I cannot provide the same light of the party as he," Ragnar spoke in a jesting tone offering his subordinates a warm smile and soft chuckle. "In my culture we call this the Festival of Uppsalla, and what it is, is a celebration. A feast in the honor of the Gods, sacrifices to each God at the alters that I have made in their honor. My children have helped me create these alters, but special recognition belongs to my daughter Gyda," Ragnar was proud of his daughter for her assistance and interest in the traditions of his people. Out of her siblings she was the only one that saw it through with him from start to finish, and to her credit, without a peep of complaining. "If the thought of sacrificing prey makes you uncomfortable you are free to leave before that time. We will not think any less of you. My Gods do not require belief, only respect," As long as they respected him and his traditions than he would respect theirs. "After a sacrifice to each God is done we move onto saga telling, which happens to be the favorite part of most." It was usually when the Berserker mushrooms came into play, though depending on how he felt he might break into them a little early.
"Let the feast begin," The Jarl spoke, inviting them to take what they would from the pile. Ragnar moved towards it first, encouraging Gyda along with him. "Take what you'd like Gyda but make sure to leave for the rest," He spoke softly to his daughter, lovingly; pulling a leg from the fawn he had caught before retreating back to where he had stood before the alters, settling into a sphinx like position and began to tear at the juicy flesh, nosing it a bit towards Gyda as he chewed on the strip of flesh he had torn from it. "Taste it, daughter." He offered her, knowing that while she had tried venison she had never tried fawn before and to Ragnar it offered a different taste. |