nexus_crossings | The Wheel Turns, The Sun Rises

The Wheel Turns, The Sun Rises

[OOC: Follows this prose. Posted early for ease of slowtags, but takes place in the spring. If you can't tag into this for a few weeks but still want to, feel free to tag late, I don't mind. <3 ]

Winter is slow to leave the shores of Norway, but here in the Nexus, the turning of the season is far more apparent. Snow has given way to mud and damp, squishy grass, bright green buds blossom on trees and bushes, and birds sing in the trees.

A less melodious pair of voices squawk from the crook of Thor's elbow. The god of thunder is seated on one of the park benches that overlooks a running path, the sunlight shining off his loosely braided hair, gathered at the nape of his neck. He is still dressed against a chill in a soft woolen sweater, but his attention is less on the cloudless weather than he is on the little creatures he holds. Anyone who comes close enough might be able to catch a glimpse of baby birds just beginning to grow their first plumage, ugly and wide-mouthed as they beg for bits of food.

As eager as they are to gobble up the smallest scraps of meat he's feeding them, Thor is rather glad that his prosthetic fingers do not feel any pain of those little sharp beaks jabbing at him. There's a fondness in his eye as he gazes down at them, but he's troubled also, a quiet thoughtfulness that doesn't leave when he looks up. "How important do you think names are? What power do they actually hold?"

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She's halfway to asking why Thor didn't go ask Loki directly about the ravens when she realizes why he hesitated. There are many Lokis in the Nexus, but none of them are the brother who was on the Statesman with him. Her lips tug into a sympathetic frown and she nods as she looks down at the tiny birds again.

"You wonder if they're a gift passed on to you." It's less a question and more an attempt to suss out her understanding of what Thor saw. Visions are a strange kind of magic from what she's read, not always clear and full of metaphors that don't make sense until after something has come to pass. What a troubling gift to have. "If they are, there might be some deeper meaning to their presence in your life."

Ravens aren't symbolic in her own culture, but it's obvious that Thor feels strongly about them. If he didn't, there wouldn't be a need to ask after names for the two now in his care.

Setting her pondering thoughts aside, Amelia turns her gaze up to Thor again. "When they're grown, what will be their place in your life, these ravens? Will they be to you what they were to your father?" Perhaps knowing that could help her friend settle on names.

He nods slowly, looking down at the chicks. "Two lost souls of Asgard reborn, maybe. All time is a cycle, endlessly renewing itself. These might be Huginn and Muninn, given form again."

The rest of the vision seems steeped in imagery and metaphor that Thor could spend hours explaining - the Worlds Tree, the oath of the Allfather, the well and the pyre - and yet still not grasp the significance, perhaps. But this is the part that matters right now, pared down to its core.

And her questions get to the heart of it, too. He looks back up at her again, pensive. "They were my father's eyes and ears, of a sort. Not the only ones, but they were messengers he could send across the Realms to watch and listen if Heimdall couldn't. Familiar's not quite the right word, but they were far more than mere pets." He takes a moment of silence to gather his thoughts, and realize that he may need to tell her a bit more of his vision after all.

"There is an oath," he begins slowly, "taken by the Allfather of the Nine Realms, to look after and protect them all, not just Asgard. In my dream, I was asked to swear it again. But without the All-Seer to monitor threats to the other Realms, Asgard is blind to their needs, and I... have... been neglectful." His guilt over Nidavellir's fate may be misplaced, as he had been in no position to come to their aid at the time, but for the other Realms he has no excuse that he would accept, despite the mind-sickness he still struggles against. "If these grow into the same power, they could serve as my messengers."

She's quiet for a moment as she works through what Thor is saying. "Even if they are your father's ravens, is it right for you to keep those names? If they've been reborn, shouldn't they be given names to reflect that? Something that suits what they are to you and their importance to you."

Amelia's not usually one for symbolism like this, but it's important to Thor. What she offers may not be useful to him as a result of her own lack of understanding, but she still wants to try. Her friends should never be left alone in moments like these when they're reaching out for help.

Her frown deepens as she continues to listen. There's been so much struggle and strife for all of the Asgardians over the past year. Anything that's been pushed aside to focus on their survival was a necessity in the rogue's eyes. There's no reason to apologize for that; To do so would be as foolish as asking the sun to apologize for shining on a cloudless day. That's not what Thor needs to hear right now, though, and Amelia knows it, so she tries for a different way of offering him solace for the unfortunate circumstances.

"You've done everything you needed to with what information you had. Your losses have prevented you from ruling the way your father did, and losses like that demand sacrifices be made." It's an unfortunate truth, but Amelia hopes her phrasing of the situation will help ease Thor's worries. Guilt and regret are ugly things and she doesn't want to see him weighed down by them.

Cautiously, in case he doesn't want the touch, she reaches out and rests a hand on his arm. "Maybe these birds are a sign that things are calming down or that you have a chance to find your footing again. If they once belonged to your father, maybe he thinks it's the right time to try looking outward again." She tries for a small smile for him. "I don't know about cycles of life and death where you come from, but I've learned from people here in the Nexus that second chances come in many forms. Maybe this is yours."

Though Amelia might think she doesn't understand, her answer makes it clear to Thor that she understands perfectly well what his dilemma is. It would be easy to simply give them the same names as their - parents? previous incarnations? - but these little birds are renewed, reborn... are they the same as they were before? Will they be anyway, with a different upbringing than Odin had given them? Is it fair to expect them to be?

"Exactly," he agrees. "Those names would tie them to who they were, but not who they are. Or... will be, I guess." Though learning that is something his visions seem determined not to tell him, at least thus far. Thor didn't really expect them to.

The matter of the other Realms is a tricky one, emotionally and politically. It's something he's mostly avoided thinking about over the last year, when he was able, still haunted by Eitri's anguished cry Asgard was supposed to be protect us! His sense of duty and responsibility is not easily assuaged by her reassurances, but they're still appreciated nonetheless, badly-needed words of support in any context. Nor does he flinch away from her touch, warmed a little by the gesture. "Or theirs. Or both, perhaps. The Norns know we all need it." He looks down at the birds, so small and fragile still, a far cry from the majestic ravens that had watched over Odin's charges during Thor's childhood. "Whatever the case, they're mine to care for. I want... I want to do it right. For them, and for the Realms." He returns her smile, just as small and uncertain, but determined.

Her smile warms when Thor looks up at her, and she places her other hand next to the first before giving his arm a small squeeze of assurance. He's so haunted by decisions he was forced to make and struggling with things that are outside of his control. There's no way she can lessen his burdens, but she can be there to support him in this moment of need.

"And you will. Start with names for them, names that are meant for now rather than the past, and build from there." It sounds so simple, but they both know it won't be that way. No path in life is simple, nor is it a straight line. Everything twists and changes as time goes on. What's important is how one deals with those changes.

Still, they need a place to start, and Amelia has an idea for that. "Are there words for new beginnings or births in the language you grew up with? Or words that represent strength of spirit rather than arm?" She could suggest dozens of words in dozens of languages given enough time in the library, but the simplest - and best - place to start is always with the person most affected by the decision. Thor will have good suggestions, even if he doesn't realize it yet.

In the language he...? Sometimes Thor forgets that the Allspeak is not clear to those who don't use it, an intuitive part of Asgardian life that he thinks little about until something happens to bring it to the fore. This seems a poor time to explain it, though, and he understands well enough how intent can bypass direct translation, particularly with regard to names. "A beginning is fyrsta, in its simplest form. Strength... there are a lot of words for that. Threk is fortitude, and hraustligr is strong of heart, or röskr for bravery."

He's not sure those work terribly well for names, but it's a start, and now she's got him thinking.

Amelia's best understanding of language is that it's often different from one place to another. She's only had to deal with the difficulties a few times since coming to the Nexus, but that was enough to plant the idea of there being more than one language spoken in the multiverse.

The words Thor offers could be names as far as the rogue understands them, but she has no idea what makes for a good name in his culture. Her lips purse thoughtfully as she thinks about the names in her own family. Maybe more examples could help her friend.

"If those don't feel right, maybe something more pragmatic would be fitting? My own name describes my nature; I'm industrious and hardworking. My father's name is often given to protectors or guardians, and he used his skills to guard my family through many hardships. My youngest brother's name is often associated with royals or those of noble bearing, and he has all the traits to make him the best heir to my family's title." She smiles warmly and tilts her head a bit as she regards Thor. "Maybe following an example like one of these would help?"

He scratches at his beard thoughtfully with his free hand, mulling that over. "Mine's that way, too. It means thunder, which I'm sure doesn't come as a surprise." Did his name shape him, or was it fate? That's something more like Loki would ponder, and Thor isn't terribly good at drawing conclusions about it, so he doesn't actively think on it for long. "I could name them what I hope they'll be, when they're grown. Or... what I'd like them to be for me, maybe."

There was a time that Thor had thought softness in a warrior was a thing to be pitied at best, but he knows better now. He still struggles with his own self-image, trying to embrace who he is - who he can be - instead of conforming to what Odin had wanted, but a lifetime of such is not easily forgotten. And he has his legacy to think of - will Asgard's scholars some day look back on him and call him King Thor the Gentle, and mean it unkindly?

Yet he would rather be known as a man who loved his people too much rather than not at all, and anything they might someday use to insult his memory can be no worse than anything else he's already shouldered blame for.

"Maybe Huggan and Miskunn," he muses out loud. "Comfort and Mercy."

"Not at all," she confirms with a small laugh. Of course his name means 'thunder'. What other name would fit him so well? He could have been named a thousand other things, though, and he would still be the same person he is today, Amelia thinks. Brave, strong, fierce, determined - all appropriate names in different tongues, but they're all still Thor. Much the same way Steve was still Steve when he returned to the Nexus a large, strong man after leaving a small, sickly thing, Thor could be called anything else and the rogue would still call him friend.

She watches him closely as he thinks about what to name his tiny ravens. With so many options and ideas laid out before him, what will he choose? Amelia doesn't want to taint his choices with her own thoughts, and so she remains silent as she waits patiently for him to offer something. What comes from him as a result is more beautiful than she could have imagined.

"Comfort for you and your people. Mercy for all who survive with the guilt and pain." It seems fitting in so many ways. She looks up at him curiously. "Would you feel comforted, having these two things with you always? Knowing they were always there looking out for you?"

It's a serious matter, and though Thor feels like he's spent days upon weeks doing little but reflecting on his failures and his feelings already, he can't help but keep doing it. Does he feel comforted by these little lives entrusted to him, a new responsibility on top of those he already knew, knowing that they may last as long as he does? "I think so," he says slowly, thoughtfully. "They're... a part of Asgard, a part of my family, sort of. It'll be good not to be alone."

And that's a big part of it, he feels, though he may not consciously realize. Friends and visitors are well enough, and their support got him through the darkest days he'd ever known. But eventually they have to go back to their lives, even if only for the night, and then the house grows quiet and there is no one else there. Not to talk to, exactly, just... exist.

Thor has spent his entire life surrounded by people, his family at the royal palace, or the Avengers in their tower. He had made his home in the midst of a crowd, drawing strength from their presence, just knowing that he was not alone. He's learned to love the little lighthouse keeper's cottage, but when the door is closed and the night settles in, it's so easy to fall into his own thoughts, and that is often not a pleasant place to be without a drink to keep the worst at bay.

Being alone is a thing Amelia understands very well. She endures it well enough, but her circumstances are very different from those Thor lives with every day. Their pasts are not the same and so his desire to keep close someone, anyone who he can reach out to no matter where he is makes sense to the rogue. Were she in his place, Amelia is certain she would feel much the same.

She nods and rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Then it sounds like you've found the right names for them," she says softly. "You'll never have to be without them if you don't want to be and they'll have your help in return as they grow into the magnificent animals they're meant to be." Her lips pull into a soft smile. "A true familial bond that can't be broken, even if you should be separated for a short time."

"I hope so." Thor smiles a little, and gently strokes the half-feathered head of one of the little nestlings. "Huggan and Miskunn it is, then."

[OOC: Good spot to wrap this one up, I think.]

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The Wheel Turns, The Sun Rises

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