I am an impulsive roleplayer.

I let my muse take the reins and decide what threads to start or reply to in a given day. If the muse doesn’t feel it, it isn’t happening. That doesn’t mean that I hate you or that I no longer want to interact with you; I probably either lost our thread or my muse just said, ‘nah bro.’

I’m sorry I drop threads. I’m sorry I don’t reply to memes. I’m sorry I ignore my asks. I’m sorry I plot things and then don’t do them. I’m an impulsive roleplayer: my muse guides me.

Roleplaying isn’t my job: it’s my hobby. I do it for fun. My muse isn’t my coworker: my muse is my friend. We have fun together. If I started treating this as a job, it wouldn’t be enjoyable for me anymore, and the quality of my content would diminish greatly!

And while we’re on the subject, just because a thread gets dropped does not mean the relationship between our muses is dead!! Thread =/= relationship! We can start something new and continue building their bond! Relationships are important to building new aspects of our muses!

I always want to roleplay with you. Just…perhaps not with that thread. You feel?

Reblog this post if you are part of the American Gods RPC. Please list whether you are canon, oc or verse as well as if you are single muse or multi muse and you will be added to the list! If you do not follow the instructions listed, you will not be added to the list.

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         Sigyn shook her head.  ‘ Spoil ’ wasn’t a term she was familiar with, as food had never been on hand long enough in her compound to go bad, nor had anything she caught or found and kept out in the world.  Everything was usually consumed within a few days, tops.  The crease of her brow deepened and her nose crinkled as she listened to his explanation.  She was able to pick up the meaning from context, only truly understanding half of what he’d said.

❛ Like when the taste is bad? ❜  She tilted her head, fixing her quizzical gaze on him for confirmation.

Once she knew she was on the right track, she pulled a face — such that one might make after taking a swig of soured milk — and added, for emphasis, ❛ Like. . . ‘ eugh! ’.  Yes? ❜

She nodded, indicating she had a clearer concept of this new word, ‘ spoil ’.  That she had experienced a few times before, having gotten sick after eating something from a can that tasted. . . not quite right.  At least now she knew there was a more distinct word for it, aside from simply ‘ bad ’.

Filing her recently gained knowledge away in the recesses of her mind, she turned to her travel companion and couldn’t help but shake her head, laughing lightly as she observed, ❛ You talk funny. ❜  After a beat, she added, ❛ But I like it. ❜

With another soft chuckle, Sigyn pulled her gaze from him and returned to scanning the landscape before them.  There wasn’t much to look at — just the dirty, dusty road and barren lands for miles and miles, as far as the eye could see.  Sitting there staring off, she found herself relaxing.  Her nerves calmed significantly, coming down from the heightened state she’d been in during the intense skirmish earlier.

Pressing her forehead against the window, she sighed quietly.  There was something about him — something she couldn’t quite explain, or even grasp quite yet.  He seemed different, though not exactly in the way that she was different, but different nonetheless.  Perhaps that was why Sigyn felt a little less guarded around him.  She wouldn’t go so far as to say she felt safe with him, but she certainly wasn’t as wary as she typically was with other people.  It was strange, and left her somewhat confused.

They drove for a short while longer, and Sigyn began searching in earnest for suitable shelter.  Spotting what appeared to be a small copse of trees in the distance, she pointed and voiced questioningly, ❛ There? ❜

He nodded as she seemed to grasp the concept of the word. 

“Yeah, yeah like it just tastes awful. Makes you sick sometimes smells bad”, he added as he drove. 

He snorted when she spoke again. He talked funny? He thought she talked just as funny but then he’d heard years of solitude would do that to someone. He only wondered if she had grasped the knowledge of speech before she had run from wherever she’d been. 

“Oh yeah you think I talk funny? Look at yourself”, he teased as he continued driving. 

He kept his eyes upon the road while scanning for somewhere suitable to settle for the night. The silence was a bit welcomed as he’d still had yet to process what had just transpired and he didn’t think she’d make much of a conversationalist at the moment. 

When she’d pointed off the road to a copse of trees he pulled over and looked. It looked thick enough to hide the truck and if they were lucky enough they’d find something edible either in the undergrowth or in the trees and where there were trees growing he had a feeling fresh water was either nearby or underground. 

“Yeah looks as good a place as any”, he said as he pulled the truck off the road and over the bumpy uneven terrain. It was a bit away from the main road and while it was safer that way Loki felt uneasy should they have to make a quick escape he didn’t want to blow a tire or get stuck. 

He back the truck as far into the trees as he dared to go before putting it in park and turning it off. He sighed and ran a hand over his face as he looked over at her. 

“Well what now?”, he asked her as he looked over at her. 

Love is Eternal  ||  closed.

         Sigyn might not have known precisely the way to her room, but she knew enough to recognize that wasn’t where Loki was leading her.  Thinking that he may have simply forgotten there was something else he wished to show her within his manor, she followed him unquestioningly through yet another part of the house.  It was darker than the rest — if such was possible — or at least the parts she’d been shown, and slightly more imposing.  To keep her thoughts from wandering and her mind from worrying, she attempted to orient herself, and noted that while they had passed the hallway that she was almost sure led to her room, they were still relatively nearby — though she could not say for certain, and could have been completely wrong.

Stepping into the room, she brushed past him lightly.  Her eyes twinkled in wonderment as she took it all in.  So lost in the breathtaking sight before her, Sigyn nearly missed his remark.  With muted surprise on her features, she turned her head towards him, gaping slightly.  So this was his room, she thought to herself, finally realizing where he’d brought her.  A new sense of reverence washed over her, and with it came an appreciation of the significance of him sharing such with her — he was inviting her even deeper into his own life, his own private world.

Before Sigyn could entirely process his offer and form a response, her curiosity got the better of her.  Silently she moved through the room, tracing delicate fingers over furniture and other objects with a feather-light touch.  The carvings on his bedposts were elaborate, ornate and highly detailed in a way that spoke of what great, painstaking care had been taken in the work.  Sigyn admired the scenes for several moments, and a soft, small, delighted laugh escaped her.

The rest of the room’s decor was old, though not outdated.  She assumed it must have been collected over the centuries and passed down through each generation.  And despite its age, it was quite beautiful.  Sigyn felt as though she had been transported through time, surrounded by such enduring, exquisite extravagance.  Such dedicated work and attention to detail had been lost over time.  One was hard-pressed to find something of such high caliber quality these days.  The entire room had an air of opulence to it, which did not quite seem to match its master.

Given what little Sigyn knew of her husband, she had supposed that he was a man of simpler tastes, contented with and finding beauty in that which was straightforward and plain.  After all, he had seemed pleased enough with her, and she was far less interesting and enjoyable to gaze upon than her sister.  She then thought that perhaps this was one area or aspect of his life where he allowed himself indulgences.  Or it could be that she truly did not really know him at all, and she had entirely missed the mark and misjudged him.

❛ Oh, no, ❜ she responded, having finished her cursory exploration of his room, ❛ I am happy to join you here, in your own rooms.  In fact, I’m honored and quite flattered at your gracious invitation. ❜  Clearing her throat, Sigyn nervously tucked a loose curl behind one ear before clasping her hands together to keep them still.

In an attempt to come across far less formal, as they had agreed previously, she blurted, ❛ Surely you’re bed would be far more comfortable. ❜

Hearing what she’d said, a furious blush flooded her cheeks and her gaze went wide.  ❛ For you, I meant, ❜ she added hastily, gesturing anxiously with her hands, ❛ You know, f-for sleeping. ❜

She shut her eyes and swallowed thickly to rein in her embarrassment.  Her mouth opened as she considered speaking further, but quickly closed once more as she decided against digging herself an even deeper hole.  Best not to misspeak and continue to humiliate herself.

Absently smoothing her skirts, Sigyn looked to her husband and flashed him a good-natured smile.  She could only imagine how amusing ( and perhaps a bit foolish ) she must have seemed to him in that moment.  If she could find mirth in her own verbal blunders, hopefully he could as well, and with a gentle shrug of her shoulders, she had let it go.

Moving to stand before him, she once again found herself inexplicably drawn in, intoxicated by his presence, his close proximity in such an intimate, personal setting.  Sigyn cupped his cheek briefly before trailing her fingers down his jawline, along his neck, and over his collarbone.  Her tongue darted out to wet her parted lips and a stuttered breath rushed past them as she slipped her hand just inside his shirt.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and asked, ❛ Would you like me to help you dress for town, husband? ❜

He watched her silently as she had seemed to marvel upon the decor of the room. To him it was simply his place of sleep or reading but perhaps to her it was far more opulent than what she was used to. He found it somewhat endearing that she found wonder in such place. 

When she had turned to answer him he’d let out a breath of relief not even realizing that he had been holding it in. What was it about her that made him so self conscious of his every move. He was almost afraid of her or to offend her in any manner. He gave a nod as he looked away slightly, a flush creeping upon his cheeks. 

Had he truly just invited her to share his bed? To share his inner most sanctum with her? He tilted his head when she’d mentioned comfort. Had he been so foolish as to not realize her discomfort the night before? The fool! He’d forgotten to see to it that the mattress had been turned or fluffed before they’d even returned. 

His mouth opened and closed a few times as he searched for words to apologize for such a mistake. 

“I.... if.... if our night together had been.... had been of discomfort I apologize. It had not crossed my mind that the... the mattress or bed for that matter was uncomfortable... I... I usually sleep here and rarely have guests”, he stammered running a hand through his hair. 

It was evident that she perhaps too felt a bit embarrassed or uncomfortable and for that he was the least bit grateful for. The way she seemed to smooth her skirts and smile at him had somehow made him feel somewhat less ashamed. He wondered what witchcraft this young woman had to make him feel such feelings. It both made him worry and eased him at the same time. 

Husband. There was that word again that made him feel as if she merely were here out of duty to her family than of her own real accord. His jaw clenched slightly at the sound of it and the very thought that perhaps he was a fool in thinking she truly wanted to be around him. But it was something in those wide blue eyes of hers that seemed to tell him otherwise despite what his own mind thought. 

“Loki, its Loki. You needn’t call me husband”, he said quietly as he looked at her now. She wasn’t a servant, she needn’t dress him, he had others to aid him in such, though he rather do it himself at times. Yet it seemed that she expressed a wish to do so and he only wondered what would happen should he slip from this clothing in front of her. Would they truly dress and leave for town?