At this hour, with such dark clouds overhead, the only light to show their path are the misty glows from the little houses and the occasional bright flash of lightning out over the sea. But that much is enough, and Thor knows the way along the path without needing to see it. Puddles splash quietly under their feet as they tread over stone and gravel, a constant stream of raindrops making the ground seem to shimmer and ripple underfoot. More distant, the sound of waves crashing against rocky shores blends with the thrumming of the rain and the rumble of thunder, a great heartbeat that drums in concert with the breath of the wind.
Though he knows now that it was not real, Thor breathes easier at seeing the houses up close, rain soaking their eaves and smelling only of nature's waters, their occupants slumbering in peace beneath their sturdy shelter. The junipers that line the roads are beginning to bud, green sprouts at the end of each branch preparing to open with new growth, and around their bases, flowers prepare to bloom under the light of tomorrow's sun. The boats tied up along the shore creak as they rock with the waves, moored securely in their berths.
They pass the greenhouse, rain coursing down its roof and sides, its windowpanes fogged with the warmth within. Thor does not stop there, continuing on past to the bridge. His step falters only a moment as he sets foot there, squeezing Amelia's hand just a little tighter as he forges forward. No figures emerge from the darkness ahead, only empty road and the towering mountain beyond on the mainland, shrouded in mist wrapped around it like a cloak.
There is one last island before reaching the mainland's shores, one that the Asgardians have done little to develop. The grassy cliffside towers over the ocean below, a familiar sight to Thor in his years since coming to this place. Even in the darkness of the night, his feet know the steps there, much easier and steadier in sobriety than many of his visits here before. A set of boulders jut up from the meadow at the land's edge, past the memorial stones carved with the names of those who are remembered by those who have survived, past its ever-burning flame that serves as a pyre for the nameless. The boulders serve as a place to sit and watch the ocean beyond, and it's there that Thor takes them, not minding the dampness of the stone as he sits upon it, the memorial at his back. A small smile touches his lips as he guides Amelia down to sit on his lap, saving her the same fate of sitting in a puddle.
A spark lights in the depths of his eye, and the rain falling around them parts like drawing a curtain, an invisible umbrella centered on them as the storm continues beyond the edge of the circle. Thor can't help but look a little pleased; it's been some time since he's tried this, but he still remembers well how. "Are you warm enough?"
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Though he knows now that it was not real, Thor breathes easier at seeing the houses up close, rain soaking their eaves and smelling only of nature's waters, their occupants slumbering in peace beneath their sturdy shelter. The junipers that line the roads are beginning to bud, green sprouts at the end of each branch preparing to open with new growth, and around their bases, flowers prepare to bloom under the light of tomorrow's sun. The boats tied up along the shore creak as they rock with the waves, moored securely in their berths.
They pass the greenhouse, rain coursing down its roof and sides, its windowpanes fogged with the warmth within. Thor does not stop there, continuing on past to the bridge. His step falters only a moment as he sets foot there, squeezing Amelia's hand just a little tighter as he forges forward. No figures emerge from the darkness ahead, only empty road and the towering mountain beyond on the mainland, shrouded in mist wrapped around it like a cloak.
There is one last island before reaching the mainland's shores, one that the Asgardians have done little to develop. The grassy cliffside towers over the ocean below, a familiar sight to Thor in his years since coming to this place. Even in the darkness of the night, his feet know the steps there, much easier and steadier in sobriety than many of his visits here before. A set of boulders jut up from the meadow at the land's edge, past the memorial stones carved with the names of those who are remembered by those who have survived, past its ever-burning flame that serves as a pyre for the nameless. The boulders serve as a place to sit and watch the ocean beyond, and it's there that Thor takes them, not minding the dampness of the stone as he sits upon it, the memorial at his back. A small smile touches his lips as he guides Amelia down to sit on his lap, saving her the same fate of sitting in a puddle.
A spark lights in the depths of his eye, and the rain falling around them parts like drawing a curtain, an invisible umbrella centered on them as the storm continues beyond the edge of the circle. Thor can't help but look a little pleased; it's been some time since he's tried this, but he still remembers well how. "Are you warm enough?"