The Midsummer Feast in Asgard is always a wondrous one. Endless food and drink and entertainment, lasting so far into the night that it spills over into the next day. For those who have not wandered back to some chambers or darkened corner by then, that is.

As the thunder god wakes from the festivities, his head fuzzy and groggy and altogether confused as to where he is. The last thing he remembers is the sight of his Lady Sif challenging him to a race of some kind (though definitely a good kind, he's certain of that), but when he rolls over, it is not her form he feels. It's a harder body, a more muscular one, and Thor's eyes shoot open to see what mischief this could be.

The sight around him only confuses him more. There's not just one body but many, of varying races and sexes, all scattered around the bed. The bed he doesn't quite recognize, but knows it well enough to know that it is still inside the palace proper. While he must confess this is not altogether a bad way to awaken, he has no recollection of this place. Slowly, he untangles himself from the mess of limbs, feeling some of the hands try to keep draw him back in.

But he persists, and as his feet hit the ground, he notices that his body feels strange. It is not simply due to last night's drunkenness, his very being feels.... smaller. His feet do not fall as heavily as they normally do, his arms swing differently, it's all very odd. It is not until he splashes some water on his face and looks into the mirror does he understand why this is.

And who must be behind it.

"LOKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!"