Lack of training is certainly one of the biggest obstacles still facing the Asgardians. Not every vocation is equally represented among the remaining population, or at all, in some cases. A journeyman alchemist had survived Ragnarok, but whether she perished in the massacre on the Statesman or in the culling that reduced half the universe to dust, no one knows. Either way, her skills are beyond their reach now, the knowledge lost with the burning of Asgard.
But not all is lost. As far as they know, there are still masters of the craft on Alfheim and Vanaheim, and once Thor can bear to venture elsewhere in Yggdrasil on his own, maybe he could find one to take on an apprentice or two. But that would require both making himself presentable and leaving his people behind, and Thor is not yet ready for that. So he just hums a little in agreement, and says nothing more on the matter.
Fortunately for them both, Amelia's line of questioning is making it more difficult for Thor to lose himself in such melancholy thoughts, at least for the moment. Aside from a pang of old grief, a loss he's come to terms with years ago, as he remembers the woman he inherited this particular talent from. "I'm not sure how to describe it," he admits, absently worrying his hands against one another. "It's... it's more instinct than learned. My mother..." His voice wavers a moment, but he presses on without pause. "She was the goddess of childbirth and the hearth, and passed on this gift to me." Particular talents passed down through bloodlines is not exactly uncommon, but certain disciplines have traditionally been thought to be more suited to one gender than the other, and promising talent sometimes ignored or suppressed in favor of keeping the status quo.
Thor has been lucky to be a god of storms as well, his raw elemental seidr as suited to bringing fertility to the land as his more feminine talents. But he has never lived it to its full potential, not before such distinctions have become so utterly pointless in favor of saving what little knowledge they have left to share. So while he is not entirely at ease with using such power openly, he's not opposed to it. Not anymore.
Amelia's naked curiosity and complete lack of laughter helps too, of course. He gives it some real thought, now, looking down at the greenery around his knees. "It's like... all life has an... energy," he begins, slow as he considers how to phrase it and certain that he's still falling short. "The younger the life, the more potential it has to grow and flourish, if nurtured properly. My seidr... provides that. Takes that potential and gives it what it needs to reach it."
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But not all is lost. As far as they know, there are still masters of the craft on Alfheim and Vanaheim, and once Thor can bear to venture elsewhere in Yggdrasil on his own, maybe he could find one to take on an apprentice or two. But that would require both making himself presentable and leaving his people behind, and Thor is not yet ready for that. So he just hums a little in agreement, and says nothing more on the matter.
Fortunately for them both, Amelia's line of questioning is making it more difficult for Thor to lose himself in such melancholy thoughts, at least for the moment. Aside from a pang of old grief, a loss he's come to terms with years ago, as he remembers the woman he inherited this particular talent from. "I'm not sure how to describe it," he admits, absently worrying his hands against one another. "It's... it's more instinct than learned. My mother..." His voice wavers a moment, but he presses on without pause. "She was the goddess of childbirth and the hearth, and passed on this gift to me." Particular talents passed down through bloodlines is not exactly uncommon, but certain disciplines have traditionally been thought to be more suited to one gender than the other, and promising talent sometimes ignored or suppressed in favor of keeping the status quo.
Thor has been lucky to be a god of storms as well, his raw elemental seidr as suited to bringing fertility to the land as his more feminine talents. But he has never lived it to its full potential, not before such distinctions have become so utterly pointless in favor of saving what little knowledge they have left to share. So while he is not entirely at ease with using such power openly, he's not opposed to it. Not anymore.
Amelia's naked curiosity and complete lack of laughter helps too, of course. He gives it some real thought, now, looking down at the greenery around his knees. "It's like... all life has an... energy," he begins, slow as he considers how to phrase it and certain that he's still falling short. "The younger the life, the more potential it has to grow and flourish, if nurtured properly. My seidr... provides that. Takes that potential and gives it what it needs to reach it."