Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, King of Asgard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pirateangelbaby) wrote2021-02-20 01:26 pm
pirateangelbaby) wrote2021-02-20 01:26 pm
Entry tags:
Getting Back on the Horse [for liverfree]
The Plaza may currently be knee-deep in snow, but not everywhere in the Nexus is so inundated.
This particular region is quite some distance from the familiar grounds that Thor knows. It's still winter, a faint chilly bite to the air, but the weak sunshine is warm on the withered grass of the field, and there are a few muddy patches in spots where icemelt has puddled and soaked in. Compared to a polar winter, it's positively balmy, the air temperature above freezing enough to be tolerable, if not comfortable.
Thor has had little reason to wear his armor since the day of the final battle. It's strange to wear it again, stranger still that he's already become so used to the soft fabrics of Midgardian fashion that donning familiar leathers seem almost foreign. He's foregone the cape and scaled sleeves, leaving his arms bare and his movement unhindered by flapping cloth. The black metal of his left arm shines under the sunshine, and it feels a little odd to have it so exposed, but it's all right. He can't be self-conscious of it in front of Prometheus, after all.
He leaves Stormbreaker standing on its head as he ties back his hair, weaving a quick braid to hold the length of it together at the nape of his neck. "Same rules as last time?" he asks Prometheus, raising his eyebrows. Trying to behave as though the last two years have not left their mark on him, despite the glaring evidence otherwise.
This particular region is quite some distance from the familiar grounds that Thor knows. It's still winter, a faint chilly bite to the air, but the weak sunshine is warm on the withered grass of the field, and there are a few muddy patches in spots where icemelt has puddled and soaked in. Compared to a polar winter, it's positively balmy, the air temperature above freezing enough to be tolerable, if not comfortable.
Thor has had little reason to wear his armor since the day of the final battle. It's strange to wear it again, stranger still that he's already become so used to the soft fabrics of Midgardian fashion that donning familiar leathers seem almost foreign. He's foregone the cape and scaled sleeves, leaving his arms bare and his movement unhindered by flapping cloth. The black metal of his left arm shines under the sunshine, and it feels a little odd to have it so exposed, but it's all right. He can't be self-conscious of it in front of Prometheus, after all.
He leaves Stormbreaker standing on its head as he ties back his hair, weaving a quick braid to hold the length of it together at the nape of his neck. "Same rules as last time?" he asks Prometheus, raising his eyebrows. Trying to behave as though the last two years have not left their mark on him, despite the glaring evidence otherwise.
no subject
Thor was doing fine with their sparring before he was triggered, Prometheus has no reason to believe that they can't get back to it with a few modifications. "No, you got it right," he replies with a smile, taking Thor's offered hand and getting to his feet. "And we'll see about that, won't we? I've fought plenty at this size, too."
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It used to be reflexive to use bravado to cover up his insecurities, and for a while, Thor has found it difficult to muster even that. Not so today. He makes himself smile back, raising his eyebrows in a silent challenge, hiding his lingering anxiety behind a mask of confidence. Prometheus can likely tell it's not completely genuine, but he's making an effort to reach for his old self. "Recently? Or are you out of practice?"
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Which has gone... well, pretty good, in Prometheus's opinion. Climate change? Just some growing pains, the humans will sort it all out shortly...
"There are even some scholars who draw comparisons between me and your brother! The clear difference being that I can rock a beard." He grins, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. "And excuse you, I was patrolling the Nexus during that terrible winter, I had to lay a smackdown more than a couple of times." He nods his head back to the center of the training circle. "So... back to the beginning, then?"
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Right, the Winter. Part of Thor wishes he'd been here to see it, while the more rational part of him knows that he would have been out of his mind with worry over his stranded people. But either way, it's encouraging to know that his opponent isn't going to be rusty on this, and it shows on his face. "Back to the beginning," he agrees, and his eye flicks momentarily to the weapons they left at the side of the ring. "Unarmed, I think." Until he can trust himself not to forget himself again, that is.
Walking helps, even just this short distance, and he stretches his arms a little to loosen up, trying to shake that last bit of tremor from his limbs. The center of the ring is scuffed from their earlier struggle, but still more than serviceable. Thor lets himself slide into a ready stance, one more suited for tackling an opponent more his own size.