Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, King of Asgard

The first time Thor attempts to access the Nexus and is met with silence, he's puzzled, but not particularly worried. Technology can be fickle, and even magical methods of transport can fail to function; it doesn't mean they're broken forever. As his plans today are not urgent, he decides to be patient, and resigns himself to spending the day aboard the cramped quarters of the Statesman.

He should probably be spending more time with his council, anyway. They've been doing all right without his presence looming over their shoulders, but with only a few exceptions, everyone in a position of leadership is new to the role. He could stand to pay more attention to how they're coping, no matter how antsy he is being stuck in one place, like everyone else has been.

So he puts the Nexus out of mind, and thinks little more on it.

For a time.

Except now it's been weeks, and Thor is starting to get concerned. This isn't like when he shattered the Bifrost; then, there had been a physical bridge to break, a structure that had needed to be rebuilt before passage was possible. He doesn't have a clue how PINpoints function, but he's pretty sure he's done nothing to break his, so what's preventing him from opening the portal?

"It's a pity you can't see past the branches of Yggdrasil," Thor says to Heimdall during the midday meal. Food, at least, is something he'd stocked up on plenty before all this, and he is immensely grateful that he'd been able to do so. Without supplies from the Nexus, the food stores would have fun out five days ago, even with strict rationing. As it is, they should be set for another month, but if the Nexus is still inaccessible then... well, they may need to make a lengthy detour to find a trade outpost, and eat less than their fill to make the rations last.

"Hmm," is Heimdall's answer, the watchman's golden gaze looking askance at his king. "If infinite worlds do indeed lie beyond my sight, I'm glad not to. Ten trillion souls are quite enough for me to watch over as it is."

Not exactly what Thor wanted to hear, but if he'd meant to put yes-men on his council, he wouldn't have picked Heimdall. Or Valkyrie. Or Loki, for that matter. So he makes a face, but nods, draining his carved clay cup and wishes it held something stronger than just water. "Suppose you're right."

"We'll make it without, if we must," Loki says at Thor's other side, and even though it's been months since the loss of Thor's eye, it's still disconcerting to hear voices floating out of the nothingness on his right side, as if his brother is a ghost whispering in his ear unseen. "It would be prudent to begin rationing now, and stretch our resources all the farther. It won't be a popular decision, but better for the people to grumble on half-full bellies than to sate themselves and starve after."

Unpleasant idea or not, Loki speaks sense. While Thor is more prone to optimistic hope, Loki is ever the pragmatist, weighing the risks and the options with equal measure. There's a reason Thor asked him to be on the king's council, after all. As a child, Thor had often imagined his reign would come with Loki at his side as advisor, turning that sharpened wit and keen mind to aid the throne. This isn't exactly how he'd pictured it, of course. But after the tragedies of the last several years, Thor had feared that Loki would never stand at his side again.

It does Thor's heart a world of good to know that his brother is on his side again, even if that side is the blind one. With both Odinsons working together again, there is no storm they can't weather together, no matter the setbacks. No one ever said ruling was going to be easy, anyway.

Asgard could not be in better hands than theirs.