milliways_bar | (no subject)

Thor thought he was leaving his chambers for the palace hallway. (He also thought that the only doors to Milliways seemed to be on Earth, and not Asgard.)

And yet: Milliways.

The Thor that casts a look across the barroom looks notably different than anyone here will have seen him before. He's clad in armor, and carries a large war-hammer easily in one hand. And there's a subtle radiance to him that wasn't there before -- not an actual glow, but as if the light is hitting him differently, so that all the colors of his body and clothing are just a tad more saturated than those of anything around him.

Other things Thor looks: weary, and heartsore.

Thor wouldn't necessarily mind companionship right now, but this -- this brightly lit room full of bustle and strangers and curious faces and lives untouched by his brother's life and his brother's (probable) death -- is exactly what he doesn't want. That one look done, he heads straight for the back door.

You'll be able to find him out back, striding alongside the lake, or sitting on a rock some ways away from the bar with his forearms on his knees and his hammer resting beside him.

Or, perhaps, you'll just see a strangely isolated thunderstorm moving rapidly over the lake towards the mountains, with what the keen-eyed might perceive to be a humanoid form in its midst.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I hope 'wielder' means something a little more specific than whoever can pick it up."

No, she hasn't tried, and no she's not going to. "Lightning, huh? It's pretty fun to play with, at least. I've never flown outside of a plane, so I can't say much about that."

Magnets, however, and anything with those properties, infuriate her.

Thor looks a little amused, although there are other emotions too in the back of his mind.

"Only those Mjölnir judges worthy can pick it up, no matter how strong they may be."

She's welcome to try, if she likes.

"Somehow I'm doubting it'd find me worthy of much of anything," she says, with a degree of both sarcasm and blunt, bald honesty in her voice that says much more than she could put words to about her current situation.

"Other than maybe being a great target."

...Uh.

Well, THIS conversation just took a nose-dive into awkwardness!

(Thor does not spend a lot of time dealing with self-deprecation -- at least, not the sort that doesn't come over top of plenty of solid ego of its own.

Like, you know. Loki's.)

"I see no reason why I would strike you," he assures her.

Even if he had cause for some reason, he's pretty sure he wouldn't have cause for hitting her with Mjölnir. It's really overkill for a human.

She blinks at him for quite a while at that.

"That's good to hear. I wasn't really thinking you'd hit me with it, not if you've waited this long. I was trying to joke." Clearly, her humor lacks something important in the way of actually being funny.

...Okay, if he's making mistakes like that, it's clearly time to wrap this up soon before he accidentally hurts her feelings badly or something. Thor has no desire to hurt anyone else tonight, especially someone so young and well-meaning, but he meant it when he called himself poor company.

"Forgive me," he says, as much to the lake as to Nori.

His heart is so weary.

"I am not at my best tonight."

"It's okay. I don't joke much," she says. "I kind of suck at it." Now he knows why.

At any rate, she fishes a couple of cookies out of the bag, and sets it carefully down, leaning against his ankle. "They might not help, but I don't think they'll hurt."

Thor turns his head to give her a small attempt at a smile. It's not much of one, but it does soften his face.

"The fault was not with your jest."

He bends down to fish carefully in the bag -- it's small and, to Asgardian strength, very fragile -- and selects another few koalas.

"I think it would be best if I ceased to inflict this mood on others. But I thank you," small trainee warrior whose name he doesn't actually know, "for your company. And for these small delicious sweets."