Sep. 16th, 2012

mjolnir_retriever: The lower half of Thor's face, looking sad and weary. (drawn lines)
Days pass at Milliways.

(Less for Thor than some might think. Time is funny sometimes at Milliways; Thor has no idea that sometimes he's gone upstairs and come down days later on what seems the next morning.)

Thor eats and drinks, he sleeps now and then, he walks outside. He tends Bar, on the occasion she asks it of him. A dozen times he reaches for Mjölnir to carry him into the sky, before his hand closes on air and he remembers, again, that he has lost all right to Mjölnir through his own folly, and that he is bound to this human form for the long future of his exile.

He speaks to new friends, and for all their strangeness they're a comfort to his heart. He never sees Sif, though at Ellen Park's word he looks for her. He never sees anyone else of Asgard.

He goes to Ellen Park's world and speaks to small green servants of a strange race for her. Together they forge a truce between their peoples. He comforts himself a little with that: at least he's done this much good. At least he can do this.

She brings him armor and a hammer, in token of gratitude for his aid. It's a kind gesture, and an honorable one. The armor is strange, bulky and mechanical, but Ellen assures him that it brings the wearer strength -- not so much strength as Thor considers normal, but more than this frail human body can muster. And the hammer, the sledge as she calls it, is at once strange and familiar to his hand. There are too many feelings at war in his heart; too many, certainly, to burden Ellen with in trade for such a well-meant token. He takes her sledge in his hand, feels the heavy balanced weight of it, and thanks her sincerely. What Heimdall thinks from his watch at the Bifrost's gateroom, Thor does not know.

Days pass, and his father remains dead.

None of the pain softens. The pain, the grief, the self-castigation and guilt. But the facts do sink in; with days of exile to think about his mistakes, Thor can do nothing but acknowledge the truth of them, and the truth of his loss.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor looking serious and possibly regretful in profile, head bowed (he never listened)
Thor steps through the door onto the roof of Jane Foster's lab, with dawn paling the sky and Jane herself still asleep on a reclining chair behind him. The air is dry and chilly; it smells of dust and oil and human buildings and a far-off horizon beneath a wide and nearly cloudless sky. No time has passed at all, here.

Whoever designed Milliways's portal was very clever indeed.

Thor gazes around, reacquainting himself with the rooftop and the sky and the desert beyond. He has only spent a short time here, but he will be sorry to leave this home of friends.

He sits on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over a short drop -- a long drop, to this human form -- to watch the pale Midgardian sun creep upwards, and wait for Jane to awaken.

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mjolnir_retriever: Thor in armor looking shiny with a dramatic sky behind him (Default)
Thor, son of Odin

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