mjolnir_retriever: The lower half of Thor's face, looking sad and weary. (drawn lines)
The sky is purpling into darkness.

Thor is halfway around the lake, sitting under a tree, jeans-clad and broody thoughtful.

Earlier, he was in the bar. Later, he'll go in again, and acquire more food and drink, and see what companionship he may find. Milliways has been good for company so far. But for now, he has his thoughts -- weighty companions, and insistent ones.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor talking, with a serious expression and slightly furrowed brow (more than a little bemused)
Jane, now swathed in a large pale sweater, leads him along the wet streets he carried Erik down not long ago, and back to the building where they do their science work. Thor wonders at this, since he remembers no yard or garden there, but he follows willingly. Jane asks him a little of the evening's events, of the army called SHIELD and Erik's actions, and Thor does his best to answer all she asks, but mostly they walk in silence.

Her plan becomes clear when she leads him inside and up the stairs, past their rooms of equipment and windows, and through another door to the roof. )

Thor doesn't expect to sleep any time soon.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor and Erik Selvig talking (Thor's face in profile, Erik listening to him) (learn to ask the right questions)
Milliways deposits them back on the sidewalk of Puente Antiguo, right outside the bar. Thor's acquired a jacket of something called flannel -- at Erik's drunken insistence, though Thor likes the weight of it, and is bemused to find that in this mortal form he notices the chill of the desert night.

Erik Selvig, who's only acquired water and some more time for the alcohol to drift through his bloodstream, stays in ebullient high spirits right up until he faceplants onto the sidewalk. )

"Yes," he says, "of course," and gestures for her to lead the way.
mjolnir_retriever: The lower half of Thor's face, looking sad and weary. (drawn lines)
The car's journey is long, though not as long as it was in Jane Foster's van, with the way uncertain. Thor changed obediently (though the space is very cramped) into the fresh t-shirt and button-down Erik gives him. Erik seems to think the combination is too light for the desert night, but Thor doesn't care. The clothing is insubstantial, but Thor doesn't feel the cold; perhaps he's still Asgardian in this.

Perhaps.

Neither of them talks much on the drive back to Puente Antiguo.

But true to his word, once they're in town Erik Selvig steers them to a place of drinking that he calls a bar. Like Milliways, Thor thinks, but it's not much like. The same long table called a bar, with stools set before it, and other seats at smaller tables around the perimeter, but that's where the similarities end. This place is dark and dingy, full of loud music and sharp smoke and flashing lights whose colors would remind Thor of home, if their patterns weren't so alien. There are men behind him playing a game of knocking small balls about on a green table.

Erik leads the way to the bar, and asks the barkeep for two beers. They come in bottles of dark brown glass, chilly to the touch. Thor drinks and finds the brew thin and sour and weak. But he's not so ill-mannered as to complain of a gift, and he's not of a mind to complain of much right now anyway.

He drinks slowly, Erik Selvig at his shoulder nursing his own bottle.

It's a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. These people have been good to him, however little he might have earned their kindness.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor bruised and vulnerable, looking downwards (battered and bowed)
Thor doesn't know how much time passes, after Loki leaves. After he says farewell to his brother for perhaps the last time.

His body seems numb; everything outside it is very faraway. His head is a sea of black despair.

His father is dead. The truce is broken. Loki, who has never wanted to rule, is burdened with Asgard's throne when war -- disastrous war, a war that was hard-won when Odin was in his prime -- batters at its very borders. His father didn't believe that Thor loved him and intended (stupidly, stupidly though he went about it) only good. His mother does not want to see him.

As well she might not. Thor is justly exiled, justly disowned. He thought he was doing the honorable thing, but instead he has brought about his father's death and endangered everything he loves.

No wonder he's no longer worthy to lift Mjolnir.

The humans question him again, but he barely listens, and he makes them no answer. They go away again.

He has nothing to offer them.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor looking bruised and sullen, and not saying a word (battered & uncooperative)
They give him a room, bare and boxy and illuminated by stark unhealthy blue-white lights. Some of the walls are mirrored glass, and they reflect his own face back at him: mud-smeared, drawn, with an expression he barely recognizes on himself. He doesn't look at the mirrors after that.

They put him in the single chair in the center of the room. )

Now more than ever, Thor has no words and nothing to offer this interrogating mortal stranger.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor covered in mud and rain, staring despairingly at Mjolnir lodged in rock (rainscene of muscular despair)
Thor's estimate was right. They don't reach Mjolnir's resting place until long after sunset. By then, clouds cover the moon and stars, turning the night sky into a featureless black arch.

The air smells ionized and heavy, familiar as a homecoming. )

When the humans wrestle him to his feet and drag him away from Mjolnir, he doesn't resist them.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor in human clothes, looking faintly amused and/or satisfied (sidelong tiny smile or smirk)
[Shortly before...]


Jane's van rattles down the winding desert roads. They're unpaved, and far more rudimentary than the wide roads between the hospital and Puente Antiguo. A horse would do well on this sort of trail, and an Asgardian steed could run faster than the speediest car, but the van shakes and bumps at every irregularity. Privately, Thor revises his assessment of its capabilities downward. They won't reach Mjolnir until well after nightfall, at this rate. Especially since the van seems required by its nature or Jane's command to stay on the roads instead of taking a more direct route, as if a few rocks and crannies and scrubby bushes would defeat its wheels. Still, it serves well enough for this purpose.

Earlier, Jane snapped out a furious tale of government scientists, craven thugs stealing her work. )

Thor has no better words to give her, not with any certainty of greater success. He'll show her, soon enough, and then she'll be better able to understand the rest of his answers. For now, instead, he watches the New Mexico desert roll by. It's a fascinating country.
mjolnir_retriever: Thor stuffing half a pancake in his mouth with more enthusiasm than table manners (OM NOM NOM)
Thor steps through the door from Milliways, and he finds himself where he expected to be all along: in the bleached-bright sun of a Midgardian desert, surrounded by the dull grey stone of the lot where this hospital's conveyances are stored. Midgard's sun is so different from Asgard's, as if the light itself is stripping color from the world.

He strides out across the square. )

He doesn't know what made her change her mind, but he's glad of it. Jane Foster, even if she doubts his sanity, is far better company than any steed. He's smiling again, bright and glad, as he opens the van's door.

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Thor, son of Odin

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