nexus_crossings | [Post Infinity War piece. Any Endgame spoilers must be tagged and minor in comments]

[Post Infinity War piece. Any Endgame spoilers must be tagged and minor in comments]

It starts out like a joke of questionable taste. Captain America, Black Widow, Rocket Raccoon, and Thor God of Thunder walk into the Plaza.

What that it were a joking matter. All of them are pale, beaten, and filthy. None of them says much to anyone commenting to them while they wander past people. Natasha's eyes are wide and panicked, her head turning every which way as if she could count and see all of the people passing them by. Her blonde hair is matted with blood and it hangs in clumps with ever jerky turn of her head. Steve's walking slower than Natasha, his beard and hair unkempt mess. Every step drags. His mouth hangs slightly open and moves every now and again like he might have something to say before he looks down at his feet and keeps going. Thor brings up the rear with Rocket sitting in a daze on his right shoulder, silent with a thousand yard stare that's as empty as the rest of his expression. Most of his left arm is missing, replaced by a very ramshackle prosthetic that isn't quite proportionally right for his size. In its metal skeletal fingers he carries an axe that's easily as large as Natasha is. Every now and then there is a sniffle from Rocket before he paws at his eyes and shakes his head.

Wherever these Avengers have been for the last few weeks, they've clearly been busy.

And it doesn't take much guessing to assume they've Lost.

They wander aimlessly. Eventually Rocket hops down and stops them outside a fountain. Somewhere with seating and clean water so they can tend to their injuries if they'd like. It's going to take more than anyone has to do much yet though. But they all sit. Stare. The question hangs between them all unspoken because there are no answers yet to give.

How can they possibly come back from this?

Whatever this is to them.

[This post is meant to bring several MCU muses in the comm up to Post Infinity War status. This post is OPEN TO ALL, not just Marvel characters. This is NOT meant to spoil End Game in any way. Any comments that may even IMPLY Endgame spoilers due to association with post Infinity War MUST BE TAGGED at subject level and you must talk to your OOC partner before posting them. The standard 3 weeks rule is still in effect regarding Endgame.]

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Prometheus has never seen such a despairing look, at least not on the face of a deity. The gods on his world never lost, or at least they acted that way. But Zeus never faced an enemy who could destroy half the universe with a snap of his fingers.

The fact that Thor has and survived... well, that means something to Prometheus. Even if he doubts that Thor would appreciate knowing that right now.

"No, friend." He sits down next to Thor on the edge of the fountain. "It is never over, not so long as you draw breath. As for your people, some of them are here. The ones you sent through the portal. You have not lost everything."

Thor has survived Thanos three times now, if one also counts the Culling, whose ashes are still smeared across his skin and dusted in his hair. He's not so convinced that's a mercy.

He'd placed all his hopes, all his faith, in his conviction that fate intended him to be the one to put an end to the Mad Titan. It was all that had kept him moving forward, the only goal he could see within his reach, vengeance for his slaughtered people. He'd been so certain that it was the only reason he was still alive, and if he'd fallen in battle at last, he would've been content with that.

But here he is, where trillions were not so lucky, with nothing to show for it.

Nothing at all.

News of survivors stirs him, but there's little joy under the weight of his shock and trauma, despair held at bay by a crumbling sense of duty. He isn't worthy to be king, but he is all that is left. "I'd hoped some would make it," he whispers, mind drifting to the frightened crowd moving to evacuate the ship, and what had happened after. "I don't know if all the escape pods got off but there must be some, out there."

He should be out there too, looking for them. But he's not. Thor can't bring himself to budge, weighted down by shame and failure, and he's never loathed himself more for it.

Even as the Titan of Forethought, there is not much Prometheus can think of to say to his friend. There is no easy way to lift such a burden. He keeps a hand on Thor's shoulder, a reminder that he is not alone, and lets the silence last for a short while. He won't ask what happened specifically. If he is to speak at all, it will be about the future.

"I am sure that those pods are out there, and you would find many here who would help you locate them. As for your people in the Nexus, Loki and I have found shelter for them. I have a lovely family staying with me, in fact. If this place is not to their liking, I can offer my own world. I know Hestia would welcome them with open arms."

Thor doesn't shrug off the hand, a small comfort against the horrible emptiness that now dwells in Thor's heart, and though his control has never been more shattered, he's numb enough from shock that his power does not summon more than gloomy, overcast skies that do not threaten any rain.

It's difficult for him to see anything past the trauma of the last day, but Thor's love for Asgard is still hanging on, if battered and broken, even as the shame of not being able to protect them burns at him. "Thank you, for looking after them. I don't... I can't repay this kindness." Thor's pride has been deeply wounded, perhaps mortally so, and accepting charity to keep his people fed has been a grudging necessity these past few months. Now, they truly have nothing left, and Asgard is entirely at the mercy of friends and strangers.

He wants to tell Prometheus to relay a message, to tell his people that their king is hard at working finding a permanent refuge for the survivors, but even a lighthearted lie sits heavy on his shoulders. He can make no promises he cannot keep, and though lately he has seen the future in his dreams, today Thor sees nothing but clouded uncertainty ahead. "You may have to host them for a while," he admits instead, hesitant, regret coloring every word. He has no right to ask this of anyone, ashamed of how low Asgard has fallen. Less than a year on the throne, and already he has seen the nation through one apocalypse and led it straight into the arms of another. Before, he'd considered them all homeless, but at least they'd had a ship to call their own. Now they truly have nothing. Thor hasn't even given thought to where he'll rest his own head tonight, yet, assuming rest is in his future at all.

He does not intend to speak of the massacre, but Prometheus has already done so much for those that managed to flee, without even knowing why it was needed. He is owed that much. "He slaughtered half my people," Thor says quietly, staring down at his mismatched hands. "Carved the ship in two. Killed Heimdall and Loki in front of me," he continues, voice breaking.

"There is nothing to repay. I take xenia very seriously, my friend." His tone is warm, but stern so as to brook no argument. He can imagine how wounded Thor's pride is right now, so he hopes that by invoking the ancient Greek concept of hospitality, he can give back a little bit of his friend's dignity.

"It will be my honor to host them as long as they like. The children and Hephaestus are inseparable, and their mother has a gift with the pottery wheel. I may have to switch to running the front of the store only at this rate." They may not be humans, but Prometheus cares for them as he would any mortal. If Thor asked him to travel into space and retrieve the remaining escape pods, he'd do so without hesitation.

The scope of what happened to the Statesmen is devastating, and the Titan bows his head a moment in acknowledgement. The pain of Thor losing his brother goes without saying, and though Prometheus only knows about Heimdall from the myths, he can sympathize with that level of loss.

"I am truly sorry, Thor. Is there a way I can pay respects? I don't know the customs of your people as well as I'd like to."

Thor is ashamed he can’t muster the gratitude that Prometheus deserves, lost in the mire of the worst pain he’s ever known. Even holding open the forge of Nidavellir had only wounded his body, but the body is easily healed. Or close enough to it. The soul is another matter entirely. But he does manage a ghost of a smile as his titanic friend tells him of the refugees, a more peaceful image to struggle against the one Thor has of the Statesman at its end.

He swipes at his cheek to dry it, but it does him little good, more tears replacing those that’ve already fallen. Just the thought of trying to do the rites, to speak the ritual phrases to shepherd the dead to the afterlife, make his voice freeze in his throat and he struggles for a long moment to find it again. “Candles. I... we burn our dead.” He lets out a brief laugh that’s devoid of any actual humor, the dark irony of it all striking him mid-thought. “We don’t need to do that, now. The ship was our pyre. And... those taken after... they all turned to ash.”

Norns. Half his people, then half again. And yet Thor survives, the cruelest joke the fates could ever play on him.

His false arm rattles a little as he deliberately shakes himself, trying to master himself enough to give a true answer. “Candles,” he repeats, more firmly, as if scolding himself for the aimless drift his thoughts have taken. “And... prayer, if you do that.”

Not one to normally regret his actions, Prometheus feels a small measure of guilt. He had asked about funeral rites with only the best of intentions, but as he watches Thor struggle to give an answer, he wishes that he had just asked his houseguests instead. They are not nearly so wracked with despair as Thor, despite their own losses. The last thing he wanted to do was make his friend more upset.

"Then I shall light candles and recite prayers," he replies respectfully. He'll have to figure out who to pray to, of course, but he can figure that out later. It's not like gods didn't pray to other gods where he's from, on occasion.

The mention of people turned to ash draws his eyes towards the dark smears on his friend's face, but he doesn't ask. The answer is something Thor needs to share unprompted, lest he break completely. Instead, he gently pats his friend's shoulder. "Until then, I will sit here with you and your comrades. To remind you that you are not alone until you are ready to move on."

Edited 2019-05-02 17:49 (UTC)

In fairness towards Prometheus, there is very little right now that would not upset Thor. The horror of what’s happened is so great that the ripples of its influence color even his good memories, twisting the knife deeper as he’s reminded what has been lost. But having someone care enough to sit with him, someone that Thor has not failed as grievously as everyone left in his universe... it helps, a little.

“Thank you.” Thor’s fingers twist at the axe’s haft absently, anxiously, some part of him still feeling the need to do something when there is no actions left to take. The battle is over, and they lost. He lost.

It takes a few minutes before he collects himself again, turning the axe to see the blade and the bloody purple smear that still paints its edge. “I had him,” he admits quietly, regret in every word. “I could’ve killed him. But I wanted him to suffer first. Instead he...” Thor raises his hand and makes a snapping motion, and though he doesn’t make the sound aloud he still hears it anyway. He may always hear it, until the day he dies.

Prometheus often finds himself one step removed from tragedies. It gives him the opportunity to sit with others in times of sorrow without drowning in it himself. He watches his friend with kind eyes, but otherwise says nothing. Time passes, as it always does, the Titan waiting patiently for Thor to either speak again or take his leave.

The admittance strikes a painful chord within the Titan. How many heroes has he either met or heard about who let their personal desires cloud their judgement in the heat of battle? But he holds his tongue. Thor is obviously well-aware of his mistake. If he and his comrades decide to go after Thanos again -- well, then Prometheus will definitely have a few things to say.

For now, he simply nods, his countenance one of sympathy and regret. "And what of your world now?" he asks gently. "Is there no way to reverse the damage?"

Reverse the damage? As though this was a simple matter, some natural disaster that needs rebuilding after, and not a slaughter of trillions. But it was the Infinity Stones that brought this apocalypse to the universe, and there is no power greater in existence.

If nothing else, perhaps with the Time Stone...?

It's only a flicker of hope, but Thor grasps onto it like a man drowning, desperate for anything to keep him afloat no matter how small. "If... if anything can, it's the Infinity Stones themselves. But Thanos still has them. To do that... we'd need to find him. And defeat him." But Stormbreaker had withstood the full force of all six, hadn't it? Had nearly carved Thanos straight down the middle, if Thor had not allowed his grief and rage to guide his hand and draw out the killing, even knowing as he did so that no amount of blood shed would ever be enough to satisfy, or restore what had been taken from him.

Prometheus had been thinking of the Infinity Stones, as a matter of fact, although his speculation began and ended with that thought. Despite coming from a world of gods and monsters, there are limits to the kinds of magic and technology he is used to. But he at least remembered the stone that granted the Vision life. If such a thing is possible, then who knows what the other stones are capable of?

That spark of hope is so small, but Prometheus hears it in the words Thor speaks, in that subtle shift in his demeanor. "You nearly defeated him once," he notes, gently fanning that spark into something more substantial. And if Thor has truly learned from his mistakes in the previous battle, then he will be more careful this time around. "He may currently be a victim of his own success, as well, resting on his laurels and not preparing for another attack."

It's not nearly enough to outweigh the guilt and grief that is drowning Thor, but even a small candle casts a light in the darkness. Something to hold onto, when everything else is crumbling around him, leaving him in ashes and ruins.

Thor's metal fingers creak as he curls them tighter around the axe, grasping the weapon as tightly as he is clinging to the thought that all is not lost, yet part of him recoiling from the offer of hope like an abused dog when offered a friendly hand. Experience is a harsh master, and Thor has never had a greater failure in all his long centuries. But it is the only hope he has left, the only way he might have to make things right.

It will not bring back the ones he's lost, and that thought alone would still send him to his knees. But at least the universe may not have to suffer as it does now. If they succeed.

"His armies are broken," Thor says, a quiet tremor in his voice, and while the furious bloodlust that had fueled his rampage of revenge in Wakanda is absent entirely, for maybe the first time since his shellshocked arrival in the Nexus, there's a spark of rational thought in his eye. He has been beaten and bloodied, and his spirit crushed into horror and despair. But this... this small hope is what he must build on, to make it his foundation that will carry him forward, or else he may shatter entirely. "He's still more powerful than us. Me. Anyone. But he..." Will never be a god, Loki's strangled voice croaks in his memory, and Thor flinches, remembering the snap that came after.

He takes several breaths to steady himself again, more tears silently slipping down his cheek. "It would have to be an ambush," he says at last. "A sudden strike, before he can retaliate."

That's encouraging news, although Prometheus doesn't make a show of it, merely nodding slightly and giving his friend the space to continue his thoughts uninterrupted. The trailing off of Thor's words has him tilting his head, wondering what more there was to that sentence. "Because of the Infinity Stones?" he asks, just to make sure he understands the situation properly. That this is not about a vastly omnipotent being, but one who wields a vastly omnipotent object.

There is a difference. Separate the latter from its owner, and you might be on to something.

"Yes," he says in quiet agreement. He glances briefly at Thor's prosthetic arm. "You'll need an upgrade, friend." There must be time enough for Thor and the others to recover before they go after Thanos again.

"Yes. I... he slaughtered my people with only one. Six stones... only Stormbreaker could match that." And Thor had squandered the opportunity for a chance to make the Mad Titan suffer instead, and trillions had died because of it. Of all the mistakes he has made in his long life, the one Thor wishes to take back most is that single moment.

"He killed half the universe," Thor whispers, as if Prometheus did not know, as if the thought is still sinking its claws deep into Thor where it intends to stay forever. "Killing us would be easy."

There's a blank, uncomprehending look when he turns to look at his friend, before following the Titan's gaze to his arm, as if he'd forgotten it was there. Not the weapon, then. "It was the best the rabbit had for me. We... we didn't have a lot of options, at the time." It's oddly easier to talk about the arm, though he's still reeling at its loss, forgetting and remembering in turns that part of him was left on the Statesman to burn with Asgard, more than just the part of his soul that feels as though it died with half his people. But what is a limb compared to the loss of so much life? Thor would have given all of himself if it would have made a difference.

Edited 2019-05-06 13:58 (UTC)

The Titan's gaze slides to Thor's weapon when he mentions it. A formidable blade, and a most curious handle. He wonders briefly if the Nexus has anything comparable, but decides not to pursue that line of thought. Enchanted weapons are a tricky business. You can buy, steal, or borrow one, but if you are not the rightful owner, all of Tartarus will break loose.

He wants to help though, to give Thor the advantage that he needs to best Thanos. To somehow right the wrongs of trillions lost.

There is a brief, befuddled look at the mention of a rabbit, but then his mind latches onto a possible way he can assist his friend. "I know someone on my world," he offers. "He's from my pantheon, and he owes me one. If you give me a few days, I can take you to him and he can make you a new arm. He's god of the forge, but he's big into cybernetics these days. It should be a straight-forward job for him."

It's something to focus on that isn't the staggering, crushing loss that consumes his every waking moment, and Thor does not hesitate to grab it as a lifeline. His own recent memories of Nidavellir still burn hot in his mind, his body remembering well how it felt to burn alive under the star's fire, but he rather doubts that Prometheus' friend will require such drastic measures from him.

It will be less urgent, at least.

"I think... I would like that," he says, looking back down at the arm he wears now, absently flexing the fingers. It's a wonder the prosthesis held on long enough to forge the axe, never mind surviving the battle that came immediately on its heels. "The dwarves I know are... no longer making such things. I don't know anyone else who could make a replacement that could withstand me."

No, he won't need to do anything nearly so arduous. The armor and weapons that Hephaestus makes for his family require little except an occasional fitting. Zeus especially is never one to suffer if he can help it.

Thor's reply makes him smile -- small, but pleased. "Then I shall make it happen. Hephaestus has fashioned all sorts of things for Zeus. He knows how to properly outfit a god of storms." It may not be the same as what Thor is used to, but it's probably the closest he'll get to what he needs.

"If I am to convince him, I should leave now..." And yet Prometheus is reluctant to go. He does not want to leave his friend in this state. But what choice does he have? Thor will be like this for some time, and even when his fire and spirit have returned, he won't be free of the grief. "I will contact you soon."

Hearing that Prometheus' friend has crafted gear for someone with powers like Thor's is promising, and if he was not so distressed, he might wonder now how well this Hephaestus' works will compare to those of Nidavellir. But there will be time for that later, once he has had time to properly process everything that has happened. Once he can see a glimpse of a future past the horror that stretches out in front of him.

Thor nods, and this time he is the one to reach out to his friend, grasping at his arm. Prometheus has given him something to hold onto, no matter how small, and it might be the only thing keeping him from rattling apart right here as he sits, so close to the edge. "Thank you."

It certainly helps that both pantheons have gods with similar powers. Although that does mean that Prometheus will have to make sure Zeus doesn't interfere. The king of gods would be petty enough to not want to share his resources. But Zeus doesn't have the authority that he used to, and with any luck he'll be too busy cheating on his wife yet again to notice.

He places his hand over Thor's arm clasp reassuringly. "You are welcome." He lets Thor hold on as long as he needs, and then he does leave, more hopeful that Thor will get through the coming days.

He has to, at the very least for his people who survived and need their king. And, as slim a chance as it might be, to fight Thanos again and somehow undo the damage.

Edited 2019-05-07 14:04 (UTC)

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[Post Infinity War piece. Any Endgame spoilers must be tagged and minor in comments]

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