It has been difficult to leave the house lately, something Thor avoids as often as he can, too weary to make the effort most days. The Valkyrie has done little to drag him out except when needed, with no commentary on how he chooses to spend his time, an unspoken understanding borne of having been through the same thing herself. But here is Steve, offering him a hand up as he has in battle before, his expression open and earnest in his desire to help a friend get back on his feet, literal or not.
What kind of man would Thor be if he rejected this, too? He can handle one little walk around town. He must.
It takes a moment, but he grasps Steve's outstretched hand, letting the captain pull him upright. "All right." He tugs on his knit hat to make sure it's covering enough of his hair, though he quickly deems it too much effort to put his arm on. He shouldn't need it, not right now. "Rabbit, are you coming?"
Rocket pokes his head back through the doorway, looking slightly agitated. "Nah, I'll catch up. You ain't done laundry once this whole time, have you?" There's more, but he bites back the comment before he can voice it, that sad look in his eyes that means it has something to do with his family. "I'm gonna wash some stuff," he declares, acting as if he'd never faltered.
If that is how he wants to spend his time, Thor will not stop him. Though he was going to get around to doing that himself. Eventually. "All right."
With Steve at his shoulder, it is not quite as difficult to step out of the door as it would be alone, the village sprawling out across the islands before them, people moving here and there with purpose. Thor's pace is slower, not quite aimless, and not so unsteady that he needs help walking. There is only one road that traces a path across all the main islands, and with solid asphalt under their feet, the two men trace the route through town. Here and there, Thor points out humble little landmarks - the village grocery, the fish-drying racks along the shores that have yet to be filled, a repurposed church being used as an administrative center, a small greenhouse that is under construction. It is nothing so grandiose as Asgard had been at its height, rugged and simple without a trace of gold anywhere, and not for the first time Thor regrets never getting a chance to show his home to his mortal friends. But this is home now, and they are fortunate to just have a place to call their own at all.
They do not walk the entire length of the road, as the last two islands closest to the mainland are the least developed, mostly rock and grass with only a few buildings of interest. But Thor has a distant look in his eye as he points out one of them across the strait, its high bluff overlooking open sea to the east, and names it Odin's Tower. The place where his father died, and Thor's life had changed forever.
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What kind of man would Thor be if he rejected this, too? He can handle one little walk around town. He must.
It takes a moment, but he grasps Steve's outstretched hand, letting the captain pull him upright. "All right." He tugs on his knit hat to make sure it's covering enough of his hair, though he quickly deems it too much effort to put his arm on. He shouldn't need it, not right now. "Rabbit, are you coming?"
Rocket pokes his head back through the doorway, looking slightly agitated. "Nah, I'll catch up. You ain't done laundry once this whole time, have you?" There's more, but he bites back the comment before he can voice it, that sad look in his eyes that means it has something to do with his family. "I'm gonna wash some stuff," he declares, acting as if he'd never faltered.
If that is how he wants to spend his time, Thor will not stop him. Though he was going to get around to doing that himself. Eventually. "All right."
With Steve at his shoulder, it is not quite as difficult to step out of the door as it would be alone, the village sprawling out across the islands before them, people moving here and there with purpose. Thor's pace is slower, not quite aimless, and not so unsteady that he needs help walking. There is only one road that traces a path across all the main islands, and with solid asphalt under their feet, the two men trace the route through town. Here and there, Thor points out humble little landmarks - the village grocery, the fish-drying racks along the shores that have yet to be filled, a repurposed church being used as an administrative center, a small greenhouse that is under construction. It is nothing so grandiose as Asgard had been at its height, rugged and simple without a trace of gold anywhere, and not for the first time Thor regrets never getting a chance to show his home to his mortal friends. But this is home now, and they are fortunate to just have a place to call their own at all.
They do not walk the entire length of the road, as the last two islands closest to the mainland are the least developed, mostly rock and grass with only a few buildings of interest. But Thor has a distant look in his eye as he points out one of them across the strait, its high bluff overlooking open sea to the east, and names it Odin's Tower. The place where his father died, and Thor's life had changed forever.