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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"Our father says that most forget the intelligence of nature." The angel is slowly coming closer, obviously curious about the birds. There's a strange sense to them that Abigor can't place, reminding them on the surface of Belial's hawk.

"When he created nature, he gave it a voice and intellect beyond what the ears can hear." Their tone has gone philosophical as the words Lucifer had used to describe nature surface in their mind. "Some cultures name the young and then they are renamed when they come of age. Perhaps that would be appropriate here? You could ask them when they are older."

He shrugs slightly, but not dismissively, watching the angel approach without much wariness. This person may be a stranger, but that doesn't mean they're to be feared unless there's a reason. "My people tend to just be given more names, not replace them. I suppose these little ones could do the same, if they earned them." Not typically the way it's done with animals, but even on old Asgard there had been special beasts among their kind deserving of such accolades.

Abigor doesn't get in personal space but they are very curious. "We have a lot of earned names, for good or ill."

They pause and then can't help the curiosity. "Are these meant to be your spiritual companions?" It was the best way to express the feeling of these being like Belial's hawk.

Spiritual companions, they say... Thor mulls this over. "Close enough, I suppose. They're Asgardian ravens, same as my father had. He used them as his eyes and ears across the Realms, to slip into places and observe when Heimdall could not."

Abigor nods in agreement with the description. "There's an angel among us that has a hawk that serves as his eyes. We'd call them a spiritual companion, the human word familiar might apply."

Thor makes a slight face at that, not really sure that's the right word for it, but it too is close enough in concept to stand uncontested. "I suppose if it's eyes you need, a hawk is an excellent choice. Or an eagle. You're an angel, you say?" Awful lot of them about, lately. Thor's still not sure how to tell them apart on first glance, as not all of them seem to have wings, or even the same kind of wings. But then, it's near impossible to tell humans and Asgardians apart just by looking either, particularly as their peoples' cultures have begun to mingle in unprecedented ways.

"Discerning vision to match his sharp intellect." Abigor is fond of their brother even if he is unnaturally stoic for a fallen angel. "Yes, I'm Abigor."

They pause and then decide that this is a friendly conversation and bypass the usual, ingrained formality. "I serve as head of the palace guards."

Any new race took time to tell apart, and with angels from several different creations wandering the Nexus, as well as demons, the whole thing was surely more confusing. Thor though looks human enough, and lore from Abigor's own world put Asgardians in human mythology. At this point they do decide to step closer and offer a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet your charges and you...?"

The question is left hanging open for introductions if he chose. Abigor had met enough beings to not bristle at a lack of physical contact. Even some of the angels pulled away from it since the Fall.

Thor has seen the human style of handshake enough to know of it, but he defaults to the Asgardian style of warriors, briefly clasping the angel's forearm near the elbow instead. The palace guards of Asgard had been soldiers, so he assumes that Abigor must be one also. "Thor, son of Odin. King of Asgard," he introduces himself. He'd mentioned his name briefly before, but with no titles attached, which is the more typical custom.

Abigor is more comfortable with this style of greeting and easily adjust to accept an arm clasp. "Son of the one-eyed god of wisdom, death and magic?"

It was a mere curiosity as they release the arm clasp. The old gods lived among the Fallen in their own creation. Abigor, like many of the angels, had a curiosity about other versions of these deities where they were not imprisoned.

It's fairly often that Thor's family is recognized, even if it's sometimes filtered through the lens of fallible human storytelling. He expects no less, honestly, even when he's mistaken for his father - eyepatch, ravens, king of Asgard... the list does seem to be getting longer, doesn't it?

That bothers Thor on a level he can't quite articulate, but he pushes it aside, reaching down to gently rub the top of one of the chick's heads with a finger. "That's the one. Well, he wasn't so much a god of death when I knew him. But yes." He'll likely never know the truth of that particular aspect of Odin's past - at least not until he confronts his father in Valhalla, though hopefully not for a few thousand more years at least.

The angels would certainly understand the idea of fallible human stories. Abigor looks down at the birds again when Thor started to pet them again.

"Myth isn't always true, and the gods as they exist with us aren't the same as the ones I've met here." That was the truth of the matter. There was a version of Odin and Thor in Chaos with them but they weren't the same.

Thor looks up at Abigor, a slightly startled look in his eye as if he hadn't expected that acknowledgment so soon, a momentary flicker of anxiety that this is some sort of judgment on him - but no, it's simply commentary, an understanding that speaks of some kind of experience.

"Oh yes, absolutely. There are quite a lot of myths that aren't true, in fact. How they managed to mix up Freyja and my mother Frigga, I'm still not quite sure." He offers that as a lighthearted sort of comparison, because there are far worse discrepancies that he prefers not to think on. "Although if this is about not having my hammer, that's a bit of a long story."

They laugh and shake their head. "Myth says I find joy in murder and genocide. I know how bad they can be, especially when a human summons me and finds I don't like to kill."

The angel hadn't really noticed the missing hammer until it was pointed out. "I assumed it was like are weapons that are bound to our grace, your soul, and can be hidden or called on command."

Well. That's... an interesting take on it. Disturbing, given what Hela was able to do. Although he supposes Loki has always had a talent for summoning daggers, too. "No, that was more my siblings' specialties. No, Mjolnir was real, and unique among the weapons ever made by the dwarves. But its time has come to an end."

"All things do." Abigor is sympathetic. "It's a shame that it's gone. My lord would have enjoyed seeing another of the legendary weapons."

One of the raven chicks makes a croaking noise, and Thor resumes petting it gently, having to split his attention between the two of them as the other decides it wants attention too. Fortunately, it doesn't demand too much of his focus.

"If it helps, I have an axe forged in the same manner," he adds. "I'd be surprised if there were legends about Stormbreaker yet though."

"I admit I don't know all the legends of the pagan warriors in our ranks."abigor tried to think if they had heard of this among thier Norse. "If you've come to an axe, it is possible our Thor has as well. Beelzebub would better be able to answer these questions. He spends more time among the warriors than I do."

"Perhaps," Thor agrees, not yet really able to conceptualize a Thor that is not just himself in another universe, even though he knows it's theoretically possible. "But I hope not. I... would not have forged it at all, if I hadn't had a great need."

He's even more uneasy talking about that, though, and for a moment he pretends to busy himself in tending to the baby birds instead of following up on that thought.

"Anyway, thank you for the advice," he says, a touch of false cheer in his voice to cover for the lapse. "I'll be sure to give these little ones fitting names."

Abigor looks down at the ground with a sigh. "The pagans of our creation suffered a similar fate to us at the hand of God. Our king gave them shelter in our ranks."

There was more that could be said but Abigor passes. They can tell the conversation is done, particularly because both seem to be facing discomfort. "Good luck with your charges. I hope to see them in the skies soon."

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The Wheel Turns, The Sun Rises

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