"My god spirit may be who you worshipped, but I'm only ninety-three years old," Olaf explains, a hand pressed to his chest as though this is a sad and small and silly little thing -- 93 compared to a thousand sort of is, though. "Baldr's been in several incarnations, but unless I die. Unless Odin is killed, I'd like to think I'll be around a while," he says pleasantly. "As for the worship, I don't really mind losing them. Attention from mortals these days is a bit not good," he says, sober and severe.