"Yeah, that's what they call it," Jane says, a wry smile on her face. "I don't even come close to understanding it all, but Thor once told me his world was a place where magic and science were synonyms, and that goes both ways. There's so much we still don't know about the universe, but sometimes I think we just haven't invented the vocabulary for it yet, you know?" Whether or not magic is real isn't the right question, if you ask Jane. It's pretty obvious that it is. Whether it can be explained is another matter, and she's only just scratched the surface.
She watches Amelia, studying the herbs. Some of them look familiar - there's lavender, chamomile, some kind of wildflower she's seen dotting the mountainsides here - and others that are only familiar in a vague sort of way, their scents tied to memories of golden palaces and distant roaring water.
"It's not the first time he's had to start over," she murmurs, thinking of those few days in New Mexico, the jarring whiplash of change in Thor when he had truly grasped that the door to Asgard had been shut in his face. He'd been mortal then, as human as Jane herself. Would he have built something of his life, had he failed to prove himself to the hammer? Jane doesn't doubt it. At the same time... where would his people be now without him?
She slowly turns in a circle, taking in the village around them. It's quiet, but still bustling with activity in its own way. She'd been afraid that it would be a mausoleum, a shattered remnant ripped away from paradise and cast down to Earth. But when she looks around Asvera, she sees... people. People living their lives, resilient and looking forward, building something new. And at the same time, refusing to forget where they came from, the echoes of old Asgard around every corner.
A nameless feeling wells up in her, and she swallows. Turning back to Amelia, her smile is shaky and sad, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "How's he doing? Really doing? I... I meant to come by a long time ago, once I knew what had happened. I wasn't sure if I'd just hurt him more."
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She watches Amelia, studying the herbs. Some of them look familiar - there's lavender, chamomile, some kind of wildflower she's seen dotting the mountainsides here - and others that are only familiar in a vague sort of way, their scents tied to memories of golden palaces and distant roaring water.
"It's not the first time he's had to start over," she murmurs, thinking of those few days in New Mexico, the jarring whiplash of change in Thor when he had truly grasped that the door to Asgard had been shut in his face. He'd been mortal then, as human as Jane herself. Would he have built something of his life, had he failed to prove himself to the hammer? Jane doesn't doubt it. At the same time... where would his people be now without him?
She slowly turns in a circle, taking in the village around them. It's quiet, but still bustling with activity in its own way. She'd been afraid that it would be a mausoleum, a shattered remnant ripped away from paradise and cast down to Earth. But when she looks around Asvera, she sees... people. People living their lives, resilient and looking forward, building something new. And at the same time, refusing to forget where they came from, the echoes of old Asgard around every corner.
A nameless feeling wells up in her, and she swallows. Turning back to Amelia, her smile is shaky and sad, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "How's he doing? Really doing? I... I meant to come by a long time ago, once I knew what had happened. I wasn't sure if I'd just hurt him more."