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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"Names can be very important." Hello there Thor and...

Oh, what've you got there bro, let this magpie just flutter right onto your shoulder to shove his beak in to see-

Ew, it's the ravens. But tiny baby versions! Loki lifts his head as if somewhat affronted by their existence, feathers fluffing out as he peers sidelong down at them. They must be why he was feeling more magpie today.

"Especially for creatures such as us. Or the bald little loudmouths you've got there."

It's not the Loki that Thor is most worried for at the moment, but it's been quite some time since their paths have crossed, and Thor's heart gladdens at the sound of his brother's voice. Not so much to see him in his magpie form, but he's talking and knows who he is, so it's already a better situation than the last time this happened. "Loki! It's so good to see you."

Thor smiles at him, a little bemused to see the elder bird puff up as if these little creatures might be a threat. "Exactly. I can't just name them anything, can I?"

"And you, Thor." The side of his beard gets an idle bit of preening by way of hello before he seemed content to hunker down on his shoulder to relax. Even if he was still watching the little ravens uneasily.

"Could always go with honesty. Loudmouth and Chatterbeak." His tone was huffy but Thor could note the lack of any serious edge here- he wasn't sure what to make of the presence of the birds, wasn't sure how he felt about it so for now he would hide behind indifferent humor and harmless snipes.

That certainly does sound like the Loki he knows - deflecting, delaying, hiding his feelings behind snarky jabs. Not for the first time, he hopes that he will hear the same from the brother he's missing now, when he returns.

He offers a small smile to the magpie, a little pained but not because of those suggestions. Still, Loki is not the only one with practice avoiding talking about what's bothering him. "You wouldn't brand them with names like that for centuries, would you? They're still babies, Loki."

"I might," He hummed out, peering down sidelong at the baby birds, fluffing his wings as he adjusted to be more comfortable. "They can be all manner of trouble after all."

Ha ha you little nerds, he's up here and you're stuck down there, suck it.

"But perhaps not. I suppose if they're with you, their names should be something suitably impressive then."

"Oh, probably," Thor agrees readily, thinking of all the mischief such intelligent birds might get up to. Huginn and Muninn had been fairly dignified and stoic, of course, but that was after thousands of years at Odin's side. And reborn or not, these baby birds are no different from other newborns in that they seem to care little for sleeping and eating just yet.

The birds caw-caw up at the magpie, oblivious to his misgivings. Is there food? That's all they want to know.

"For the record," Thor adds, since that seems like it might be a small jab at his naming skills, "I still think Toothgrinder and Toothgnasher were perfectly fine names for goats."

Little menaces. He should just ignore them. Let Thor deal with them, they're his now anyways aren't they?

"Oh fine names for goats. Never hear me argue that one, no sir. But these are ravens, which are an entirely different game," Voice slightly muffled as he stole a scrap of the meat Thor was feeding them with, considering being an utter shit and just wolfing it down himself-

UGH fine, he'll just be dropping it into one of those noisy little mouths, then another scrap for the other. Just because it's a moment of quiet. "Especially birds of omen."

Despite his troubled thoughts, it puts a small, delighted glint in Thor's eye as he watches the magpie voluntarily feeding the nestlings, still somehow managing to look entirely put out by it. Loki likes to pretend to be aloof, like he doesn't care, but there's a good heart in his brother and Thor never gets tired of seeing it at work.

His smile dims just slightly when his brother reminds him that these are no ordinary birds, however. "No, of course not. It's... not every day you get the sort of vision these came from."

Thor please. He just wants a moment of silence to better put thoughts together without the little scraps of beak and fluff howling for food like they were starving. Obviously there's nothing more to it.

"They came in a vision?" That caught his attention, peering sidelong at Thor with a tilt of his head and a fidget of his tail. "No, I can't say that would be an every day occurrence. Here I thought you just found Huginn and Muninn's nest in Odin's old hatbox or something."

The quiet is temporary, but the little birds can only eat so much at once, too. The demanding cries die down a bit, one of the chicks squinting up at the magpie.

With this temporary reprieve from feeding duty, Thor spares a moment to reach up and give Loki a gentle scratch on the back of the neck, ruffling up the soft feathers there. "No, I wish. They came to me in a dream. Or... were given to me, rather." He's quiet a moment, gathering his thoughts, aware that Loki has not had the best experiences with portents and omens himself. "I was at one of the wells beneath the roots of Yggdrasil, where Father's boat was burning, and asked to swear the Allfather's oath again. By Heimdall, and Volstagg, and... Loki." He's still a little shaky about that part, even knowing that his loved ones must have found their reward in Valhalla, where they belong. It's far harder to be the one left behind, as it turns out. "And once I did, Loki gave me a gift, and I woke holding two raven eggs."

Oh yes please give him scratches he loves that. His head lowers ever so slightly, feathers on head and neck fluffing out in utter delighted contentment, with a idle little click of his beak. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Not budging as he listens, for once keeping any barbs or jokes mum. It's clearly a difficult thing with the careful, almost cautious way Thor tells the tale after all. "I might not be the biggest fan of Huginn and Muninn it's true, but the birds speak true wisdom. Not always the easiest to hear as I'm sure I don't need to tell you, but key all the same for those willing to listen and heed it. Clearly your brother thought you ready to have such a thing."

A tilt of his head to give another light preen to the side of Thor's face. "I can't say he's wrong."

Encouraged by the magpie's response, Thor continues, soothing himself as much as Loki. It's good to see him so relaxed, so content, no matter how temporary. And having one Loki safe and happy is a balm against the worry he still feels for the other, absent brother.

The praise, too, makes him feel uncommonly warm, bolstering him against the constant nagging doubt that he isn't ready for the responsibilities of the throne, or perhaps that his illness makes him unsuited entirely. "Have you always had such faith in me?" he asks, smiling a little at the affectionate preening.

If told of them, Loki might point out that those self-same doubts are a good sign that Thor was ready. That he was aware of the importance of what was to be expected of him as a king, that his want to improve and be better meant he would do right by those under his care. But then Thor had not said as much, so Loki at the moment would just be soaking up the positive attention, quite pleased even if the little nestlings were there.

"In you? Of course!" His own Thor had been a right twit in many ways, and maybe his opinion was colored by hurt there, but he found it easy to put faith in this Thor.

Of course, he says. As it really was that simple, that straightforward. And what's more is Thor cannot sense any deception in him, no answer given just because he thinks it's what Thor wishes to hear. Of course, as if there could be no other answer.

He doesn't deserve such loyalty. But Thor is selfish, and he will accept it all the same.

His vision gets a little misty as he gives the magpie an extra scratch on the collar. What he has to say next may not strike Loki so softly, given his own experiences. "I don't know if they'll be the same. You know, as they were before."

He can't ask if Loki knows, if he is any different than he was before he met what was thought to be his end. Loki is Loki, and all creatures grow and change with experience, or else are they not living? Thor has not died, but he is a creature much changed from the man he was only a year or two ago, or a decade. If he can change, why not Huginn and Muninn?

It wasn't a thing he liked to think of. Not really he'd rather pretend it all hadn't happened. But it was as gentle a way of commenting as could be asked, and Thor was one of those who the trickster wouldn't begrudge asking or commenting on it.

And it was rather pertinent with those two little nestlings to think about.

"They will change. Even if they are always Huginn and Muninn, as I am always Loki, as you are always Thor, they will be something new at the same time. Especially as they sit upon your shoulders this time. Already things will be different for them, and I can't see them being poorer for it."

Of course Loki would know what he really wants to ask, and the answer he gets is... not exactly a bad thing. Thor looks down at the little birds, one of them settling in for a brief nap, the other still blinking up at the looming faces overhead. Half-feathered and disgruntled, it looks very little like the dignified, magnificent ravens that had perched on either side of Hlidskjalf. Not yet. But someday, perhaps.

"I don't want them tied to the past," Thor admits, something he has struggled with enough with his own expectations, with Odin's legacy. "They have another chance, maybe. Even if they are still Huginn and Muninn."

Oh, that little disgruntled ball of half-grown fluff. It was almost charming in a way, like the little thing was sizing them up to take on, which Loki couldn't help but be amused by.

"But we all are. Our pasts are an intrinsic part of us... it's what we do with them that makes the difference, doesn't it? Either a millstone to drag us down, or a boost up. Not a lesson I tended to absorb very well, but there's not much for it now." A faint huff as his head dipped, beak gently preening a bit of dandelion fluff that landed on one of the nestlings off, flicking it to catch the breeze again. "Support helps. You'll be there for them, whatever their names wind up being. Whatever they wind up being themselves. That... counts for a lot."

"Me either," Thor agrees with a faint chuckle, because of all the lessons he's struggled to grasp, this one might be the hardest. You are not Odin, the other Loki has told him, and Thor is trying his hardest to believe it, to keep it at his core, and forge a new path free of what Odin would have done. Yet the Allfather and king of Asgard is again without an eye, and gifted with the same ravens as his father had. Is he doomed to follow his father's legacy, or is this an opportunity to become as Odin perhaps should have been?

The magpie is being uncommonly straightforward and sensitive, and Thor thanks him with another gentle scratch on the neck. "We should all be so lucky." Whatever the future holds, he has support from Loki, and that matters to Thor. No matter how much he may dislike Huginn and Muninn as they once were, and might be again.

"Besides," he adds, deliberately lightening his tone, "maybe you could be a good influence on them this time around."

Loki has had his own lessons to learn. About how being vague and withholding has hurt more of the relationships he wanted to keep than he ever wanted to think about. How sometimes, no matter how it might chafe for him, it was better to be honest, and as open as he could be. It was a thing he'd been trying his hardest to keep in mind in the Nexus, in his relationship with Cricket.

If anyone else deserved his best efforts, Thor certainly did. And the scratches were certainly a welcome reward, the magpie lowering his head slightly with a content little croak of sound.

A slow blink following as he processed what Thor was saying, gaze skipping from the little nestlings to the Asgardian like he'd been speaking a foreign language.

"Me? I... I'm not sure. I don't know that I ever have been..." He wasn't even being bratty about the birds and their provenance now, more just... uncertain about what his influence might mean here. It was one thing to encourage Thor, but this could be something more far-reaching, with more potential consequences.

"Been what? A good influence?" That's the only way that Thor can think that sentence would end. But as uncertain as Thor is about himself, he can see that same self-doubt in Loki at times, a mixture of pride and trying his best and still perhaps coming up short in the eyes of those he cares about, or at least feeling as though he had. It's a feeling that Thor knows far more than he wishes he did.

He shrugs a little, careful not to jar the magpie's footing. "Like you said, even if they do become who they were before, this part doesn't have to be the same. They're just babies now. It's... like starting over, I guess."

"Aye," Loki seemed... not uneasy. Not in this. The slight shift in the angle he held himself at, the tilt of his head were almost... sadly apologetic in a way more than anything. At least as much as a bird's body language could be construed as such, for all his voice carried that same note in it's soft tone. "I've mentored another through their own fresh start, only to bring them to complete and utter ruin."

A faint, shuddering huff of sound as he dipped his head to give the still awake little raven another light bit of preening to give himself a moment to settle. "The Boy would not thank me for my influence. Damned me in fact as he slipped into the Void."

That the soft-uttered 'damn you' whispered through a mouthful of feathers and blood may have been his own words than The Boy's was something he tried to avoid thinking about.

The Boy? That provokes a spike of worry in Thor, an anxious twist in his belly that has little to do with his own guilt, for once. Which boy? What did Loki do?

There's only so much worry he can take at once. Only so much energy to use day by day, even though it's more than it once was. Whatever Loki did or didn't do, Thor knows one thing in his heart, and it's that his brother did not fail on purpose. Even if he sometimes struggles to apply these thoughts to himself, he has little trouble giving them right back to Loki.

"Sometimes we can't see what comes of our actions," he says, and even as the magpie preens at the grumpy raven chick in his arms, he reaches down to give the older bird a gentle stroke at the back of his neck. "But what matters is that we try. And learn from our mistakes."

Oh Thor. There were many many things that Loki has done, all with the best of intentions only to have them blow up spectacularly in his face.

But he does relax when it becomes apparent that no digging is coming no 'Loki what did you do this time-' with the certainty of moral superiority behind it or the cut of exasperation. No, Thor seemed willing to brush past it at least for now and it meant more to the trickster than he could really say. So instead he'll just turn his head to press it into the palm of that petting hand with a soft croak of sound.

"I think my own problem is I'm very good at making new and exciting mistakes. A bit too much creativity for making messes of things." This was said more with a wry amusement, the magpie more than willing to pull past that alarming moment. "There's some common themes to them though... and I'm working on remedying those at least so we'll see how it goes."

"We're all works in progress," Thor answers with a small smile, once again taking his therapist's words, concepts he's been trying to take to heart. "I don't expect you to be perfect. I know I'm not."

At least his affectionate touches aren't being rejected. It's not quite the same as a hug, but it's just as comforting to Thor. "You'll be all right. I believe in you."

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The Wheel Turns, The Sun Rises

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