It’s certainly not the first awkward conversation that Thor has had about helping make babies, though it has been a long time, and it probably won’t be the last. Especially if he intends to nurture this side of himself, long ignored in favor of more masculine pursuits.
Where Loki’s talent has always laid in study and sophistication, Thor’s talent for magic is more a force of nature, wild and deep and powerful, but with far less fine control. Often over the centuries, he has found himself carried along with the wind and the rain and the lightning, as if he is the heart of the storm given flesh and bone, or perhaps the storm is born of him instead. In a way, fertility magic is much the same, fingers reaching into the nutrient-rich earth like roots spreading downward, full of yearning for sky and sun and rain. Little points of light like stars, blossoming and ripening, the earth’s breath of life given form.
It’s a strange feeling still, but that is not a bad thing, and Thor does not shy away from it. He lets the seidr flow until it feels right to stop, and he sits back on his heels again, feeling somewhat like he’s finished a long and challenging run. He rubs at his forehead to wipe away sweat, leaving a streak of dirt in its place, and casts a slightly self-conscious look at her to see her reaction.
Fortunately, his anxiety here is unfounded, if the wonder in her eyes is any indication. Her words of praise for Asvera come as a surprise, as well, and he envies her a little for it. What would he give to be able to look on this place and see contentment with what it is, instead of what is gone? “Your knowledge?” he prompts, though she’d mentioned helping Vidar before.
no subject
Where Loki’s talent has always laid in study and sophistication, Thor’s talent for magic is more a force of nature, wild and deep and powerful, but with far less fine control. Often over the centuries, he has found himself carried along with the wind and the rain and the lightning, as if he is the heart of the storm given flesh and bone, or perhaps the storm is born of him instead. In a way, fertility magic is much the same, fingers reaching into the nutrient-rich earth like roots spreading downward, full of yearning for sky and sun and rain. Little points of light like stars, blossoming and ripening, the earth’s breath of life given form.
It’s a strange feeling still, but that is not a bad thing, and Thor does not shy away from it. He lets the seidr flow until it feels right to stop, and he sits back on his heels again, feeling somewhat like he’s finished a long and challenging run. He rubs at his forehead to wipe away sweat, leaving a streak of dirt in its place, and casts a slightly self-conscious look at her to see her reaction.
Fortunately, his anxiety here is unfounded, if the wonder in her eyes is any indication. Her words of praise for Asvera come as a surprise, as well, and he envies her a little for it. What would he give to be able to look on this place and see contentment with what it is, instead of what is gone? “Your knowledge?” he prompts, though she’d mentioned helping Vidar before.