pirateangelbaby | Even a God Can Need a Friend [Open to friends]

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Even a God Can Need a Friend [Open to friends]

[OOC: This post and its threads may contain Endgame spoilers. Potential trigger warnings include depression, alcohol abuse, and suicidal thoughts. (See the bottom section of Thor's updated permissions page for more detail on relevant warnings, Thor’s triggers, and a disclaimer about his narration style.) If you intend to tag Thor and are sensitive to this kind of content, please let me know before we begin so that I can provide a safer roleplay experience for you. Individual threads on this post will not be warned for on a case by case basis.

Thor has left his current address with the remaining Avengers, Loki (

coldsong), Prometheus (

liverfree), and Sif (

lady_sif). Other close friends are welcome to visit by getting coordinates from those listed, which may be done offscreen (of the Avengers, Rocket is the most likely to be out and about in the Nexus right now) - if in doubt, please ask the relevant mun. This post is intended to provide Thor with moral support as he grapples with his mental health; each thread will be treated as though it is a different day entirely so his mood and the immediate setting may vary. I do not mind slow tags, and this post will be perpetually open for a long while, so don't worry if you can't get to it right away but still want to play.]

Above the Arctic Circle, in the far north of Norway, the village formerly known as Henningsvær sprawls out across a tiny chain of islands. Despite the approach of summer, the weather is cool and overcast, sea breezes often sweeping through the narrow streets. For those approaching by road, the small single-lane bridge leading from the mainland now boasts a hand-painted sign in Norsk and Asgardian runes welcoming visitors to Asvera, which the local humans have taken to calling New Asgard. Population: 832.

Though much of the world still feels half-empty and apocalyptic, there is little of that here. Asgard has filled the empty spaces, each house claimed and occupied, as well as several hotels that once served seasonal tourists. Fishing boats come and go from the harbor, dock workers hard at work learning to repair nets and lines, others processing the day’s catch for consumption. There is no market, no selling of goods; everything is distributed communally through the grocery on the main island, every citizen entitled to a share, every citizen expected to work to support the others, save for the children who are too young.

The village is quiet, but busy. There is always work to be done, or new skills to learn to survive in their new home. The king, however, may not be so easy to find. Here in the tiny Norwegian village, there is no golden palace to give visitors a place to start looking. Perhaps it’s best to ask for directions.

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Maybe it is the Allspeak, or maybe Thor's mind is more broken than he'd thought, but he does not understand half of what she is talking about. He still listens, though, and tries to take it in, absently picking at the omelette which is getting cold on his plate. It is probably delicious but he can barely taste it, as if he cannot even allow himself to enjoy food anymore. Still, he's eating, and that is more than he had been doing when Harley arrived.

"I don't know what I want," he admits after a long moment, pushing little bites of egg around his plate with the slightly-crumpled fork. Aside from another drink. "I don't... there's no way to fix this."

He'd hoped. He'd really, really hoped that there would still be a way. That they could use the Stones to reverse the culling, and at least bring back half the universe, even if there was no hope for the murdered Asgardians. For Loki, and Heimdall, and a thousand others. He had staked it all on that hope, and it all came crashing down on him.

"Maybe the reasons there is no way to fix this... is because it is not meant to be fixed." Harley points out.

"Look at those eggs... I broke them. There was no way to fix the broken shells. But I was still able to make something out of the mess."

"I..." She points at herself. "Am broken. I am a mess. And I am not some project for someone to try to fix."

"If you are so caught up in finding a fix... then it ain't no wonder you are stuck in limbo. Looking for something that just ain't there."

"And by looking for that one particular thing... you miss everything else."

"No, I... I know that." Norns, he wishes he didn't. Wishes he still had some kind of hope. Something to keep him going, a promise of a better tomorrow. That he wouldn't look out on the tiny village and realize that this is it, forever.

Long live King Thor.

It is no secret that he blames himself for not stopping this, but it is a short leap to call up the memory of the Titan, sneering at them, secure in his victory that could never be undone. A tight fist seems to squeeze around Thor's chest, and his breathing harshens again. "It's my fault."

"It sucks hard what happened. And seriously, every single person who is left behind on your Earth lost someone. You'all are going through survivor's guilt."

Harley arched an eyebrow. "How the fuck is any of it your fault?"

If only the guilt that Thor carries was only the kind felt by survivors. That, he knows how to deal with. Feeling responsible for the murder of trillions... that is something else, and he does not know how to begin to cope.

There is a reason he has hardly spent a full day completely sober since Wakanda.

"Because I should've... should've..." Gone for the head. He can't say it, not without that voice slithering into his ears, and the metallic snap that followed, heralding the doom of half the universe. His voice chokes in his throat, the bands around his chest squeezing the breath from his lungs, and he abandons any attempt to continue eating in favor of pressing a hand to his chest as if it could do anything to halt the panic in its tracks.

It's his fault. His fault.

Harley moves, and goes to kneel by his side. She can see the panic building up... and him desperately holding it back.

"Sorry hun, but the should haves mean nothing. He would have done it, half a dozen different ways, no matter what had happened or no matter who was there. Sometimes the bad guy gets his win. And people get hurt."

"You just letting him continue to best you..."

No. No she doesn't understand, and he can't explain, not when it's a struggle just to breathe let alone speak. He could've done it. He could've. But he didn't. He had to savor it, to make the madman suffer instead of ending the threat. Trillions of people would be alive now if he had.

All Thor can do his shake his head, rubbing at his chest and rocking unsteadily, as if the waves of anxiety were physical ones, battering at his crumbling defenses. By now, he knows better than to think that this will kill him, that the crushing sense of impending doom is nothing more than an illusion - or wishful thinking, maybe - but it doesn't make it hurt any less, doesn't lessen the fear that twists in him like a knife.

He struggles to rein in his breathing, to find focus in the patterns others have helped him with, but it's difficult when his own body is rebelling against him. It feels like an eternity before it has any effect, heart pounding as though he has been in battle, though he has never wanted a weapon in his hand less than he does now.

Harley might have not heard the facts behind the situation -- but she does understand what he is feeling. That Thor holds himself responsible for not stopping Thanos.

And when he starts to rock unsteadily, she stands slightly to wrap her arms around him. She doesn't say anything, just holds him in that moment to give him a sense of something. The presence that she promised to be.

A hug is the last thing he'd expected, but he doesn't pull away either. Up close, it is easier to feel her breathing and try to wrestle his own into following, her arms a warm solid anchor to reality despite the fear sweeping him away.

It will be several long minutes before he begins to calm, the metal fingers of his left hand twisted tightly into the fabric of her shirt as if it will keep him rooted. It takes effort to let go, something he cannot blame on the prosthesis, and Thor swipes at his cheek to dry the dampness. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Don't be sorry. Let yourself feel this way." Harley softly tells him, as she continues to hold him. He is not pushing her away right now... "If you keep on holding all this in... you ain't doing yourself any good."

"React. React to the unfairness of it all. Just let it all pour out."

"It stays here."

He never feels himself after these strange episodes, worse than he usually is, as if things around him are not quite real. She feels real enough, however, so he does not shake off her touch, trying to focus on his breathing and the easing of the crushing pain in his chest. He can't stop himself from shaking, even though the fear is passing, and that shames him.

He's supposed to be stronger than this. He is a god, and a king, and a warrior besides. But nothing he has ever faced could match this horror, nor prepare him for it in any way.

"It doesn't," he says, voice low, not meeting her eye. "It follows me everywhere. I can't... it won't go away."

"Thor..." Harley tilts her head, to capture his eyes, while still holding him close. "I live with my pain and madness every day. I know it doesn't go away. I know that it follows you."

"But I also know that there is a way to let yourself fall apart... and pick yourself up. And the rest of the world will never know... because it doesn't want to know. It doesn't want to see."

"You can let yourself fall apart and I will be here to catch you. Because I know how lonely it is... to not have anyone there to be there."

Edited 2019-06-23 00:24 (UTC)

Thor can't hold the eye contact for long, though he does try. He's already shamed himself by panicking in front of her, and that is difficult enough for him. He just wants it all to stop, and he doesn't know how to do that. Doesn't know how else to cope besides drinking until the memories aren't solid enough to bother him, or finding distraction in dull television where he doesn't need to leave the house and risk something else bringing him harm. It makes him a coward, he knows, but he has come to accept that as part of himself now, a man who jumps at shadows and hides from his problems, shying away from a flame that has burned him too many times.

"I fear I already have," he confesses. He is not whole, and hasn't been since that day on the Statesman. It wasn't until the Garden that he had shattered fully, and he feels as though a part of him died that day, withering like a tree in winter.

Something of Loki comes to Thor, now, a vague recollection of dirt between his fingers and his brother urging him to find himself in the earth and wait for spring to come, to seek out life and make it bloom. He had forgotten most of it in a drunken haze, but not all.

"Well then... Good thing I am here." Harley smiles softly. The whole state of Thor has made her decide that she is needed here, to stay with him.

She believes he can find himself. And she can help.

And really... he doesn't seem to have the strength to chase her off right now.

Neither the strength, nor the will. Most days he does not - cannot - leave the house, putting it off for one more day, one more day. But though he wants the solitude, he is not immune to loneliness, the television a poor substitute for actual company. And sure, the Valkyrie comes to visit when the king's word is needed, but he's seen how she looks at him, the hunger in her eyes when she watches him drink, and he understands why she mostly stays away. She spent centuries in the bottle herself, and now that she has pulled herself out of it, she does not want to topple back in after him.

More than anything, Thor is tired. Physically, mentally, and it makes little difference how much rest he gets. He is tired of being frightened of memory, tired of the pain, tired of just sitting here yet too tired to leave. Maybe this is how Father felt, he thinks, before giving himself over to the Odinsleep. No wonder he would sometimes sleep for weeks at a time, if this is what being king is like.

But Thor cannot sleep, not without the nightmares haunting his steps, chasing him back to the awful reality he now lives in.

He lets out a sigh that sounds almost as though his soul is trying to escape his body. The omelette is only halfway eaten, but Thor is not certain he can stomach any more. "Thank you. For... for the food."

"We will make an omelette a regular thing. Every day, around this time." Harley takes his plate from him. And she can just watch over him.

After all, she is still doesn't have a new Nexus apartment to go to. And Loki's place is a little full. And she can't go to her universe right now, with whatever Joker is planning for her.

So she has the time to be here for Thor. It works out quite nicely.

"It would be good to get you on a routine."

It's only now that the implication that she intends to stay - or at least, to visit every day - makes it through the haze in his mind, and Thor blinks up at her in confusion. Did he offer? He doesn't remember, though his memory has been somewhat unreliable of late. "You're staying?"

"Yep!" Harley smiles at him. As she cleans the plate, and puts the rest of the dishes away.

"Having company around might help!"

"And I can assist with cleaning, cooking, and anything else you might need."

Just when Thor believes he understands her, she throws another curveball at him. He does not want to be seen by others like this, fallen so far from grace that he does not know if there is a way back. And while he has braced himself to deal with company here and there, even when he had still been at the Avengers compound, he had spent a great deal of time alone. Having a live-in guest is a daunting prospect, one that makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

But he also cannot deny that he's done little to maintain the house, or just the living space he's been using, either. He's meant to, but he hasn't had the energy or the motivation, and it's not like anyone but him will see it. Most of the time. If she's willing to take up the task...

Well, it's not like he doesn't have the room. The cottage is small, but he's hardly used most of it, and there is a perfectly good bed gathering dust in the bedroom. Still, he feels a small twist of guilt and uncertainty. "Are you... sure?"

Harley has been at that bottom of the barrel moment (more times than she can count). Has she ever had a moment of Grace, like the one he fell from? No. But she knows how it feels to be fallen.

So she is not going to judge him for being there right now.

She heads over to him, and places a hand on his shoulder. "You would be doing me a favor, honest. Don't know if you heard... but my Nexus apartment got ransacked during Winter, and I decided against going back there. Cricket has his new place. And Loki has his. And both of them are sort of settling right now..."

"It ain't safe for me to be back in my world. So if I am here... then I have a roof over my head. And someone to keep me company."

Oh. That's...

It seems like such a small thing to lose, in the grand scheme of things, and yet... it's something that he can do for her. Something that requires no effort on his part to arrange, even, nothing he would need to rally himself to do.

And Asvera is a village of the lost, those who have no other home. Not just Asgardians.

"Then... then stay," he decides, and though this one act of kindness will not make up for what he's done, he would still do it. He can still do something good.

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Even a God Can Need a Friend [Open to friends]

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