pirateangelbaby | Hair Braiding For All

Summer has come to Asvera, and the locals will swear it has never been so green. Sure, the weather is still a cool thirteen degrees Celsius, and the stiff sea breeze often makes it feel just that little bit more drafty, but the mountain on the mainland seems to have exploded in a carpet of wildflowers and grasses, the greenery flourishing in the village itself along the edges of the roads. The juniper trees' twisted boughs are full, the lavender planted along the footpaths tall and thick. Fluffy clouds cast shadows across land and sea as they drift across the endless blue sky, the sun never quite dipping below the horizon, and every day the fishing boats return with their holds laden heavy with cod and coalfish and halibut. The wooden frames of the hjell along the shoreline of the islands are packed full of drying fish, and inside the greenhouse and in the field before Thor's home, crops ripen underneath the polar sun.

The village is a bit more crowded these days, between the Asgardians and the Sakaarans and the humans, and new housing has been built on neighboring islands and on the mainland. But Thor's house is where it always has been, up on the bluff apart from the densely packed homes on the little archipelago.

Inside the house is a little more chaotic than it once was. Today has been a more trying day than many of late. Thor's head aches from hangover and not enough sleep, having awakened a little too early by Eindrid seeking solace from some night terror, and then Una demanding breakfast since he was already awake. The kitchen is a bit of a mess in the wake of the children's breakfast, sugary jam fingerprints on the table and bits of cheese on the floor, though the ravens are making short work of the crumbs and squabbling over who gets the largest piece. Sigrid and Agnarr gather up the dishes to put in the sink while Eindrid toddles away in search of the television remote, and Thor has Una seated on his knee at the table while he tries to tame her hair. A half-eaten slice of salmon toast sits at his elbow next to a coffee mug that contains little more than the dregs, and smells faintly of mead under the roasted coffee flavor.

More than once he's had to start over already, and Una is fussing under his hands as he undoes yet another braid. They're due to have a visitor today, and normally he's much better about making sure the place is presentable - well, as much as a house with four children can be - as well as the children, but today he is dragging. What time is it, anyway?

Threaded | Flat

Visiting Asvera is so common for Amelia these days that her arrival at the edge of town earns the rogue several greetings and fond smiles from the mix of locals moving about the area. She smiles and waves in return as she makes her way down the familiar path to Thor's house, a bag of pastries under one arm to help sate the four smallest residents of the home she's slowly becoming more and more familiar with. Her weekly visits with Thor, and Loki's charges by extension, are an enjoyable part of her routine; Between spending time with a good friend and helping said friend out by keeping his nieces and nephews occupied, Amelia feels more useful than she does with many of the other tasks she assigns to herself these days. Asvera offers a great many things that leave the rogue feeling fulfilled, but there's something more to it when it involves people she cares about more deeply than others.

It helps that this place gives her such a feeling of satisfaction as well. No work done in or around Asvera could ever feel heavy when she feels so at home along the shores and among the greenery she's watched flourish and grow under the care of the newest set of residents and their king.

After checking her phone to make sure she's not too early, Amelia returns it to one of the pouches on her hips and knocks on the door. "Hello!" she calls brightly, her smile obvious in her voice. "Might I come in? I've heard tell there might be a few friends inside for me to visit, if they'll have me."

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