nexus_crossings | +1 King of Asgard

+1 King of Asgard

Thor really should have no right to be as cheery as he is right now. Mjolnir destroyed, his father dead, his eye ruined, Asgard exploded, the last of his people crammed together onto a single spaceship on their way to seek aslyum on Midgard, one cannot really say they've been having a good day, to put it mildly.

But it could be worse.

It's taken him years to fully understand what it means to sit on the throne of Asgard, and now that kingship falls to him at last, the lack of that throne doesn't bother him at all. Asgard isn't a place to rule, it's a people to guide. And even if they couldn't save all of them, those who remain are precious to him. A new start awaits them all on Earth.

Or so he hopes.

Thor strides down the corridor of the Statesman, cape billowing behind him as he navigates his way towards the bridge. Hmm. Or was it this way? It's so easy to get turned around in this blasted thing. But ah, the sound of a multitude of voices; surely this is the way.

It takes him a moment to realize that he's no longer surrounded by Asgardians, or even Korg's crew. No, the people here are of all shapes and sizes, and the sky above him suddenly opens up, wide and blue. Not on a spaceship anymore. How very strange to find himself suddenly transported across the galaxy - again - without so much as being shot through the Bifrost. His attention is caught by a familiar voice, and despite his confusion, a delighted grin lights upon his countenance to see his good friend Rogers giving prerecorded messages in his battle regalia.

Perhaps this is Midgard, then? But no, the more he listens, the more he understands. A place between the worlds, hmm. A place to seek counsel, and befriend countless warriors from across the universe. Thor crosses his arms over his chest, and contemplates what question he should ask. Something somewhat relevant to his current situation, perhaps. "If you were put in a position of power, what would you first command?"

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A sentiment that resonates well with him indeed. A warrior could only hope for such a glorious, honorable end. Though he has no inkling that the Valhalla she mentions is not exactly the same one he's thinking of. Close enough. As it is, he smirks as an Earth saying comes to mind, one of his favorites since he began his more modern visits. "If it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid."

That certainly sounds like leadership to him, so what do the others on the council do, he wonders. "From the leader of one people to another, I thank you for your answer." Sure, he has a good idea of how to start handling things from here, but an open mind and an even more open question might give him ideas for later. And like-minded leaders may make good allies, or at least friends. "I am Thor, son of Odin."

Edited 2018-09-06 16:08 (UTC)

Religion is complicated, for Furiosa. She's got the V8 cult and the remnants of Joe's Norse appropriation in her head, but she's also got Vuvalini stories, which are far closer to the old human myths of her world. She knew just enough, when the War Boys started telling her child-self about Valhalla, to recognize something off about their conception of it. She was also smart enough not to contradict the men who could have torn her limb from limb at the time.

Her eyebrows go up, and then she gives a little fox-bark of a laugh at his aphorism. "All right. I like that. I'll have it painted on my wall." Beneath 'We Are Not Things' and 'No Unnecessary Killing'.

Right next to 'Kindness Is Never Wasted'. That's a newer one.

Anyway. She takes his statement that he is a leader at face value. He clearly has the strength and charisma for it, and, even better, seems to have a sense of justice and a lack of malignancy. The things she looks for in an ally for her people. "Then I thank you for the question," she says with a little smirk, but then his name draws her up short.

Because of those old Vuvalini stories.

That's a familiar name.

"The real one?" That's a meaningless question in the Nexus, but it slips out anyway. It takes a lot to throw her off balance, but this did it, and it takes her a minute to stammer out her own introduction. "I'm...I'm Furiosa. Of Katy Concannon and Mary Jobassa, clan Swaddle Dog."

Yeah, she's really surprised here. She never introduces herself that formally.

He chuckles lightly at her question. "The one and only." So far as he knows, anyway. He certainly doesn't know of any other Thor, pretender or otherwise. Still, the surprise on her face is easy to read, a familiar look cast his way since his more modern visits to Earth. At least it's the astonished kind, instead of the one where they think him mad.

Her name is an interesting one, a good fit for a warrior queen, and Thor has to wonder if it was given to her after her victory, or if one of her mothers had the gift of prophecy. "Well met, Furiosa of the Swaddle Dogs."

"One and only," she repeats, and then something like dark amusement crosses her face. "I guess it would take a lot of gall for someone to pretend to be Divine, wouldn't it?"

It's funny because it's true. Immortan Joe was the personification of hubris, which made her a perfect Nemesis to match him. But now, the idea of him encountering real gods in the afterlife has entered her brain, and it fills her with quiet, vengeful glee. Good. I hope they have some nasty words for the old schlanger.

Her expression softens, then, and she places a hand over the center of her chest and gives him a little bow. A Vuvalini salute, not the sign of V8. "And you, as well. You wouldn't be the one from my world, I imagine, if there is or ever was a Thor there outside of stories. But I'm honored either way."

There aren't many gods whose approval or friendship she'd be interested in. Plenty of goddesses, but not gods. Still, the stories always describe Thor as a friend to humankind, and Furiosa has an affinity for storms ever since the one that saved her and the Wives on their road to freedom.

Thor has the good graces to look at least a little humble, there. He’s no pretender, but the line between actual divinity and what he is is pretty ill-defined, and depends greatly on who you ask. Still, she sounds like she’s not directing that towards him, and it’s easy to agree with the sentiment. “It would take a bold man to claim to be more than he is.”

The salute is not entirely unfamiliar, the respect in the gesture obvious. He inclines his head in return, not terribly interested in lording anything over her as he once would’ve, when he was younger and stupider. She’s been nothing but kind so far, and he must admit, he likes what she’s shown of herself so far. “Probably not, if there are as many realms crossing here as I’m told. I’m still getting used to the idea; my people have traveled the stars for millennia, but different universes entirely was only theory.”

Well, now she definitely likes him. It's a good person, god or alien or human, that will take the respect she just offered without pushing boundaries or acting superior.

"It's a strange thing to get used to," she agrees with him readily. "Different universes. It's been a godsend for my people, though--uh, pun not intended."

Lol, godsend. She shakes her head sheepishly. "Trade is interesting here. There are items some worlds lack that others take for granted. I've been able to buy food and crops and fabric for my settlement, books for a new school, painkillers and antibiotics, all kinds of things that are precious or nonexistent where I come from, mostly just by trading our artisans' leather and metalwork, and a little labor here and there."

She's treading cautiously, still, unwilling to introduce anything too technologically startling to her people and her world, but there's no doubt the Citadel would not be so capable of feeding and sheltering its people without the resources the Nexus provides. "If there's anything your people need, I'd suggest stocking up while you're here."

To think that he used to assume talk of trade would be the boring part of being king. Sure, it's not something that gets the blood pumping, but even something as basic as food and water could mean the survival of what's left of his people, and it's worthy of his attention.

"We may have to," he agrees thoughtfully, already pondering what he might have available to trade. "We left home in a hurry, and I'm not sure what we have on board. You trade in bulk, then?" Markets are one thing, but it'd be hard to feed hundreds from what he could pick up at a vendor's stall.

Their conversation up until now hasn't given her a clear picture of where his people are or what their situation is. His clothing suggests a somewhat more resource-rich origin than hers, but not too far out of her wheelhouse. She's getting awfully good at dealing with feeding a large population with limited means and nowhere to go, and whether his people are better off than hers or not, she doesn't mind sharing her experiences.

"You're traveling, then. Some kind of large vessel, or nomadic in groups? Are there many to feed?"

She nods, though. "I have eight thousand or more at any given time. Some of them are Walking People or road warriors, so they'll leave and come back again in a season, but people are starting to have babies now, too. That's not a bad thing, but it's a complication."

"Anyway, there are shops and open air markets here, and it's not too difficult to track down individuals who will bargain in good faith. The only trouble is consistency. Things come and go. I trade in bulk whenever I can, but sometimes I just go from shop to shop and collect whatever I can afford in whatever amounts they'll sell me."

"A large vessel, yes. Sakaarian spacecraft we borrowed from this bastard called the Grandmaster." Not that he had anything to do with that decision, but even Thor can admit that without Loki arriving at the final hour with a ship large enough to house the remaining population of Asgard, they could never have evacuated everyone in time. Or anyone at all, maybe. "We haven't had time for a census, but hundreds, at the very least. Possibly two or three thousand, at most." He can only hope they were so lucky anyway.

Furiosa's had far longer to establish her leadership, and he'd be wise to listen to her experience. Theory and training is one thing, lived experience is another. So he listens attentively, one-eyed gaze on her as she speaks. "Yes, a place like this, I imagine it's wise not to rely too much on a single source. Even if it's inconvenient."

"Spacecraft," she repeats, with a little grin. Although it's not the first time she's heard of such things, she's always struck by the idea of driving through the stars. It would not, she's sure, be anything like the Fury Road. Damn, but it sounds like a rush, though. What kind of fuel does a machine like that use, she wonders?

That's just idle curiosity, though, and peppering him with idle questions won't actually help either of them. In any case, she's subtly but deeply flattered by the fact that he's listening to her so attentively. She folds her arms loosely, tapping her right fingers against the metal strut of her prosthesis. "All ages? Elderly and children, too?"

She hesitates, because she shouldn't offer anything too casually, but... "We can probably spare some water, if you get in a bind. You recycle yours, on your ship?"

He nods to her question. "Not many elders, but quite a few children. Many of the adults are tradespeople. Crafters and the like. Most of the soldiers were killed before the evacuation, though we still have a few." Not that they're likely to need them in space, but you never know what danger might come your way these days, especially once the other realms hear of Ragnarok. Power vacuums demand to be filled, and Thor's not sure if he'll be in any position to direct what shape it takes.

Something to worry about later, he hopes. Logistics are taking up enough of his time already, and there's more to come. A king's work is never done, and he's only been at it for about a day already.

"I think so. Most vessels do, although I wouldn't put it past the Grandmaster to be as wasteful as possible." Thor rolls his eye a little, and makes a mental note to check on that ASAP. They're still months from making Earth orbit, and running out of vital resources halfway there would throw an enormous wrench into the works, to say the least. Still, her offer is definitely not unappreciated, especially given her mention of her Citadel being in the desert. He smiles slightly in thanks. "Your offer is generous. We're not so desperate yet, but there may come a time I take you up on it, if it wouldn't leave your people short."

She frowns thoughtfully. Some small part of her wonders if the children are youthful deities, if all the people of Asgard are gods, or if it's just a handful of their leaders--but that's probably irrelevant. What's relevant is 'evacuation' and the implication they escaped after a terrible battle. "Kids must be a little scared," she says. "Maybe some of the adults, too."

"It wouldn't be a problem, water," she adds. "Not in the short term, anyway. We're on what's probably the biggest clean aquifer left on our planet, but we don't take it for granted. I'm only hesitant at all because I'm not sure what taking a large amount of water out of our dimension would do to the water table, you know? But we could take the graywater back and recycle it, if you don't have a system yourselves."

"Let me know if you--actually, do you have a PINpoint yet? I'll give you my contact information in case you need water or backup or...whatever." She really wants to help out, here.

"Yes," he agrees, a little quieter. They'd certainly have a right to be frightened, children and adults both. Thor's still not fully up to speed on what horrors Hela brought to Asgard while he was stuck on Sakaar, but what he saw on the way out was plenty, even for a seasoned warrior like him. And now they're all in a strange place, possibly without members of their families, with no hope of things ever going back to how they were. He frowns contemplatively as he considers that, not exactly well-experienced in matters of managing children instead of soldiers. "How did the children of your settlement handle the transition?" he asks Furiosa. Maybe there's something he can learn here, too, something to help make things easier on the youngsters.

The little glimpses he's gotten of her own situation are fascinating. Small wonder she'd be so generous with her water, despite the desert, and she's educated enough to be aware of possible complications of messing with her environment unnaturally. "I'll look into it and get back to you," he promises, and means it. If the Statesman is lacking, he'd be a fool to say no. And though she hasn't asked for anything in return, Thor's already thinking of what he might have to trade, or to gift to her in thanks.

"I don't have one yet, but I'm absolutely going to." He smiles at her, and reaches out to clap a friendly hand to her shoulder. "I can always use more allies, Lady Furiosa. If there's anything I can do to repay you for your kindness, just ask." What do you know, he can be diplomatic and kingly if he puts his mind to it. It helps that he genuinely likes her, from what little he's seen already. He's made friends from just as little, before.

"Our children were in a difficult position before the fight," she answers. "Already being pushed into adult roles at very, very early ages. We used to have always have our boys painted up as war pups before they turned ten. I'd see them painted as young as seven, sometimes, if they were on the tall side."

To say nothing of the girls, or the children of slave-castes. She'd rather not talk about that. "It's taken a couple years to teach them to play. A lot of them still want to work, and we have an apprentice system for that, so no one takes advantage, but I like to think they're more relaxed these days. You have to understand, most of them have no idea who their parents are. The old regime took them out of their mothers' arms as soon as they could eat solid food."

"First thing I did was put them in small groups and told them to consider themselves one another's crew, or siblings, so they would look out for one another. War pups with the children of slaves, girls and boys protecting one another, that kind of thing. Trying to raise them up to get along together. I'll let you know if it's worked in another couple years, but I like to think so."

"But you have families together, sounds like? What about a school? We're trying to put something together ourselves, but it doesn't have to be a perfect system. You could get them together twice a day for stories and music and snacks and they'd get some entertainment and comfort just from being with one another."

She blinks at the friendly touch, and she's probably having a moment of 'I've just been patted by the god of thunder; I'd better record this in my diary', but to her credit, she recovers quickly. With a little laugh, she reaches up and gives his forearm a light squeeze. "I'll keep it in mind. It's always worthwhile to have someone in a similar position to bounce ideas off of."

Patting her pockets, she actually comes up with a scrap of fabric and a mini-sharpie. The former was obtained from her world's stores, the latter most definitely was not, but she carefully writes out her PINpoint contact information for him. (Too bad for Loki that he didn't catch wind of this; some woman giving Thor her number would definitely have amused him.)

Even knowing how human ages scale, that sounds shockingly young to him, devoid of any real chance at childhood. Or family, from what she says. It's one thing to lose a family in war, and another to be outright stolen as soon as they're weaned. Utterly barbaric, and he's even more glad that she's told him the warlord responsible is dead.

"A school," he repeats thoughtfully, rubbing at his beard. "That's a good idea. It'd give some of the adults something to do, too. A sense of routine to make things more predictable day to day." He has a feeling all of Asgard could use that kind of stability in the days ahead, after the massive upheaval that cracked the foundations of their lives, children and adults alike.

Thor is certainly not going to mention this to Loki either; his brother has more than enough ammunition to use against him already. But he does accept the scrap of fabric graciously, tucking it down the front of his armor for safekeeping, since he doesn't exactly have any pockets at the moment. "I will give you mine as soon as I have one," he tells her. Actually needing a device to contact somebody is still a novelty, but it's one he's probably going to need to get used to. (Somewhere, Tony Stark is laughing at him.)

It was even worse than she's told him, in a lot of ways. She doesn't visit the Nexus for sympathy, though. Even with as much work as they've done, the resources at her peoples' disposal are small compared to most of the worlds of other Nexus visitors she's spoken with. They walk a narrow line between growth and crisis, but she doesn't want a savior to swoop in and terraform their whole planet or anything like that

Better not to be so far beholden to anyone. At least, as long as they're capable of eking out their own living on what they have, with a few Nexus technology boosts.

She nods. "That, and a chance to watch over one another. It's best if a traveling people stay close-knit and care for each other."

The Vuvalini were mostly stationary, but that was how they operated, too.

There is something of amusement in her eyes as she watches him tuck the fabric into his armor. It's probably a pretty safe place for a fragment of cotton to live in. "Good," she says. "If for some reason I'm not around, my second in command is Toast the Knowing. She knows how to use the technology."

She gives him a light, friendly punch on the bicep (it's clearly not meant to hurt even a human, which is good because she'd probably break her knuckles on him before she'd leave a mark). "It's been good meeting you. Keep us in mind. I'll be watching the stars for you."

Figuratively speaking, that is. His ship isn't in her world's sky, luckily. He'd be very disappointed if he had to resettle his people on her Midgard.

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+1 King of Asgard

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