Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, King of Asgard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pirateangelbaby) wrote2019-06-15 09:04 am
pirateangelbaby) wrote2019-06-15 09:04 am
Entry tags:
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.
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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"Oh, he's probably at home," one of them tells him, a tall kronan who seems to be taking well enough to the damp weather if the moss and lichen growing on his rocky skin are any indication. "Up on the big hill that way, see? Was all stormy last night so I don't think he's coming out today."
The house in question used to be a lighthouse-keeper's cottage, up on the southern bluff with an entire football pitch between it and the rest of the village. Or at least it used to be, before someone took a plow to it and dug it all up, leaving huge furrows that stretch from one end goal to the other, a hint of green here and there where whatever crops they've planted are trying to sprout. The house itself is small and white, and the door will swing open easily, unlocked.
Some of the decor inside is rather outdated, appliances dating back a few decades, including the television in the living room which is currently muted and showing images from some kind of drama. Half the paintings on the walls have been replaced by framed prints of Hubble photography, and there are a few knickknacks that might remind Loki of Thor, though it's clear he hasn't fully made the space his just yet. There's an uru-headed axe propped up in the corner next to a stack of dwarven kegs.
Thor has his back to Loki as he hammers a bracket into the wall above the mantel with his metal left hand, his hoodie's sleeves pushed up to the elbows. He doesn't look quite steady on his feet, peering at the positioning of the bracket a little too closely than is strictly called for, even if he does only have the one eye now. The smell of mead lingering around him a likely culprit as to why. His hair has grown out past his shoulders again, though he doesn't seem to have brushed it out when he got up this morning, and his beard has gotten fully and bushy. He doesn't quite notice he isn't alone just yet, stepping back to see if the bracket is level with the other one he's already placed. Eh, close enough.
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"My thanks, ser!" The kronan is absolutely exciting to run across, and Loki has to reign in his multitudes of curious questions in the face of his self-appointed mission to Find Thor. Though that doesn't stop him asking for a selfie with him- Leigh would undoubtedly be delighted to see proof he was making friends.
In her dry, disapproving of his shenanigans way that was.
Youth certainly means it's quick enough for the godling to dart towards the house, mindful at least in his enthusiasm not to trample any of the furrows. And by some miracle doesn't slam the door open with how easily it swings inward at his touch. He pauses only a moment, curious gaze skipping over the place Thor had chosen for himself, while Ikol flutters over to land on the arm of the sofa, clearly judging the God of Thunder's brackets.
"Thor!" If he didn't notice, well this was his warning, the tiny Trickster all but bounding across the room to claim his other-dimensional brother in a great bearhug. Or well. As great a one as his tiny arms could manage. Surely enthusiasm made up for that detail though?
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Thor jumps a little at the shout, taken off-guard by both the company and by the brother that has suddenly attached himself around Thor like an octopus. “Loki?” And not the Loki he might have expected, either.
Not unwelcome, though, certainly. It takes Thor a moment, but he eventually thinks to hug him back, slinging an arm around those little shoulders. “What’re you doing here?” And... is that a magpie on his sofa? Thor squints with his good eye, trying to tell if that’s the same one he’s met before or not.
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"Ikol, be nice," Loki chided from Thor's embrace, grin widening as he peered up at him. "I came to the Nexus to visit you, and they told me you were in this town so I came here! You all found a much nicer place to set up shop than the Asgardians back home did, everything's all sand and rocks around Asgardia and the humans there are kind of... cranky about us being there."
He huffed as if annoyed by that before shaking his head. "But that's not the point! I've been practicing and I learned a new trick!"
Because of course the first thing he would do is beeline to Thor to show him.
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The little Loki in his arms is a hell of a distraction from having birds criticize his choice in home decorating though, and Thor blinks down at the little boy, just trying to process that whole string of words into something sensible. He’s begun to get used to the occasional visits by friends, the verbal dance around the subject of both the tragedy and Thor’s illness (weakness, his inner voice still whispers nastily), the hesitation in many of them as if they’re afraid they might break him if they say the wrong thing and probably being justified in doing so.
This youthful enthusiasm is almost refreshing after that, if a little overwhelming to suddenly be plunged into it headfirst. “You... you did?”
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The small Loki could if needed be gentle. But in his excitement he was a bit more enthusiastic and admittedly a bit impatient to show off for Thor. And generally just enjoying being around him in general, nodding cheerily at the question posed. "I did! I'll show you!" He wasted no time in grabbing Thor by the hand, not at all put off by the cold metal of it as he tugged, intending to lead him over to sit on the sofa if Thor let him. "Come sit, so you don't accidentally trample me in your stunned surprise!"
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“I would never trample you,” Thor protests, but allowed himself to be herded toward the couch, which thankfully looks a little less pathetic now that he’s cleaned up the blankets he’d been sleeping in for the last few months. Or, well, not cleaned up but relocated to the bedroom, but it’s progress anyway. He sits down heavily, and once Loki lets go of his arm, he worries his hands together absently in a nervous habit, not really aware he’s doing it. “So what’s this trick, then?”
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The small Loki beamed at the assurance, especially once it's clear that Thor is letting him call the shots here. Once he was settled, the child hopped back a step, all but bursting with energy. "Okay so it'll just take a moment here..." And he was really hoping he could manage it a second time- it would be embarrassing otherwise! It did take a bit for anything to start happening though, but Thor would likely find it somewhat familiar, that mirage-like ripple of the boy's shape, that disappated only to leave an even smaller fox in it's wake, with perked ears and a big lolling grin.
"Tadah!"
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But the memories are a little stronger now, looking at the fluffy little fox cub who has never looked so pleased with himself as he does now, and something in his chest aches fiercely at the sight. “Oh, you... you are adorable, brother,” he says with a watery smile, leaning forward to see him better and reaching out his real hand to touch, if Loki will allow it.