1963-10-11 - Asgardian Building Blocks
Summary: Thor builds his lady love a wall, and puts a mortal to questioning.
Related: No Anything Anymore
Theme Song: None
rogue thor 

Sunny and cool. Perfect weather for a days work. Out early, up earlier, and the Thunderer is in the back of Sif's 'ranch', moving boards by the stack full. Dressed in t-shirt and jeans, his hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and loosely-laced boots, he pauses after at least the third pile is dropped. Blue eyes look at the field, and he begins to pace it with stake and tools in hand. One, two.. three.. it has to be large enough for a small herd of horses, after all!

Once Thor reaches a spot, he has his stake and hammer (No, no Mjolnir!), and crouching, he buries it into the ground, whistling a tuneless song.


It's been a hard day's work,
And Thor's been working like a god,
It's been a hard day's work,
And there's Scarlett coming up the road,
But when she gets near the farm,
And sees the breadth of those arms,
It gives her reason to pause.

Her own arms hold another selection of fresh produce obtained from the vicinity of Chelsea, a market overflowing with the bounty of distant orchards and fields tucked inside. Whatever arrangement lies between bohemian and Sif, it clearly involves these sporadic gifts to help the earth fallen goddess to adjust, feel more at home. Albeit the differences to the property don't take her entirely by surprise, the source and cause assuredly might. For a moment, she flits ever nearer, treading over soil softened by the recent rainfalls and crisped as autumn descends on the rotation of the globe. It stands to reason she probably came via a roundabout way, not limited by streets and cars and buses, capable of her own speedy locomotion via airborne roads. Though on foot, at least, nothing makes her stand out. "Good morning, Thor!" The call rings out in a gilded, sunny welcome.

She gives him a wave. "I brought my lady a token, but is this a poor time? I thought she might be about and accepting company."


Planks are laid by the stakes as Thor paces it out once again, his (almost) entire being concentrating on the dimensions so as not to make one shorter than the next, or perhaps a little canted in where it shouldn't. He's no craftsman, but how hard could it be… right?

Thor lifts his sledgehammer again, but this time he's simply hefting it as he catches the approach of one Scarlett with her arms filled. Tossing the tool aside, the Thunderer approaches and gestures that he be given the burden of produce. "I'll bring that if if you'd like," is offered in good humor. "Lady Sif is still abed. Even the smell of coffee has not 'roused her from her slumber." He finishes the approach, a smile playing on his face. "Have you been wrangled into servitude here? If not, I will have Hilde come and sort out what it is she wishes to use for the day and the rest put into stores."


One's entire being devoted to the construction of a barrier speaks so much to his character, and no doubt gives his enemies possible tactics to use further. Crown Prince of Asgard distracted by wall, blitz the golden city through the plains and go around the gaps he didn't make to the sea. Woe to the man who builds the Asgard Line and forgets the little bit near the forest.

She drifts closer to the fence line, still leaving a wide berth in the event that the Thunderer means to ward her off and tell her upon her way. "Still abed; this late? My, she must be well and surely exhausted by her labours. I suppose that apples and cider shall not do the trick, unless you were to throw the cider into a sauce pan with a few sticks of cinnamon." The wrinkle of her nose matches the merriment in her eyes. "I ought to have tried a harder liquor but I have seen how much the estate has; she can find something that's sparking and burning there in a bottle, assuredly. Nonetheless, I applaud you for taking advantage of the day. The weather is lovely, and surely we can all feel invigorated being out here. Allow me to put this down, and assist if you like. I am not helpless, nor am I ever waited upon; the notion of someone helping out rather than requiring me to do it myself is new. Besides, much as it might amuse someone else to see an Asgardian prince aiding a girl of Midgard, I wouldn't wish them to say I am taking advantage of you. I'd rather be thought a friend than greedy."


"The stores of Asgard have been brought to aid the Lady Sif in her attempts to settle down and raise animals," Thor begins, his smile dropping lopsidedly, giving him a boyish air. If she heard his words, there's be battle for certain! "There is yet mead, though that was discovered last night."

If Rogue won't give over her burden, the least he can do is walk to the back door and open it. "She has discovered the joys of sleeping in. Such a thing was unheard of upon Asgard, considering her duties there." He's more than willing to give her that here, apparently? And… wait.. they're getting along?

"Assist on the fence? It is for her horses, and should I make it large enough, for my goats as well. If she wishes the role of a farmer, then.."


"Is labour something not regularly performed by those of the court? I cannot imagine it would be done, if you follow any sort of pattern as here, except perhaps ritually. Going out during a harvest and hoeing a row to break open the soil, restoring the blessing of fertility and such. But everyone can enjoy it, especially gardening. I've a bit of a taste for encouraging plants to grow from the soil," the redhead notes, which could well account for her bright mood. Good company, fresh air, and possibly some of those plants bestowed the produce she carries, though certainly not all. She won't be growing any sort of apple atop the Albert Building in Greenwich Village without the support of sorcery from like minded masters favourably inclined towards her.

The ghost of that power lies on her, somewhere, though it would take a skillful observer to note it; the aura isn't her own, though. All the same, the young woman smiles. "This agrees with you. I am happy to see you have discovered such a fulfilling past time, though I must ask." The pause follows as she steps inside. "What do your goats eat? Surely they require a great deal more than, say, a horse?"

Oh little does she know, and that alone is dangerous. For a question asked is a topic to research, and she's not bold enough yet to try feeding Asgardian immortal goats tin cans. But one day! Maybe he'll watch them chew through his foes' armour, and gleefully goat giggle as they do it.


Thor moves to open that back door that leads into the spacious kitchen of Sif's, gesturing towards the table for the burden. He leans against the wall, putting hands into his jean pockets such that only his thumb protrudes, and he shakes his head, another chuckle sounding. "Past times, no. Life is ordered on Asgard. The duties of a prince are far different than one of her citizens. The day is filled with meetings, with sparring, hunting. In our youth, lessons of history, of tradition, diplomacy, and each topic for each of the Nine realms. Each of my brothers had to learn the same, in case they were called upon to take the Throne if I were killed in battle." The way he says 'diplomacy', it does sound as if it incorporated that very real potential. War.

"So all this is very new to us." Gives an idea of how Sif was raised as well, perhaps?

Pushing off his lean with a shift of his arm muscle, he crosses the room towards the coffee, making it seem less of a distance with his easy strides, his hands pulling out of their rest to reach for the carafe. "My goats? They will eat anything. The grass will be fine for them. Keep them away from trees, or they will strip the bark. Hay. Straw. Any produce that is not consumed in a timely manner." Goats.

Thor has the carafe and next takes a mug from the cabinet, two mugs. "Father is the one that blesses the land, but he does that during the sacrifices. He needs not to leave the palace, though he will tour the land. Even if the ravens see all, Father does like to be seen as well."

The dark liquid is poured one, then the other, and he offers one of the two over. "So you grow vegetables, or is your hand for that which my brother and Amora prefer?" Herbs for sorcery…


"An orderly life," murmurs the young woman, processing the information seen during her forays across Asgard. She slept, Fandral and other guards can affirm that, but in such short, broken chunks to maximize her opportunities to flit about the golden city and dive into its library. "Is it the same for a citizen? They have their occupation determined young or by family, and proceed from there? Is it common for someone to change their profession? I wonder if it is all that common; perhaps someone who was a soldier decides he wants to enter medicine. For how long your lives are, changes seem both more reasonable and less. However it is, yours is a productive realm, and a wonder too. Had I five hundred years to master gardening, surely the quality of the plants and the designs might seem fantastical." The notion brings another merry laugh.

She has a healthy respect for personal space and belongings, more so than most humans alive. It sings through the way she sets down the bag and sets out some of the more fragile produce, and a still warm pastry in a cardboard box wrapped with thin twine. A minimum of space is required, and she moves as little as possible to keep everything properly done. One shining blushed apple peeks out, and then a variety of sweet corn at the bottom of the bag probably required a bit of heavy packing too.

"It's good that you have found a place so swiftly. Not only in the estate, but something that delights you here." The redhead tucks her windblown braids behind her ears, and somehow a chain of chrysanthemums have managed to survive the flight: they spark, white and deep wine red, many tiny stars. "Have you given any further thought to what you wish to do? Building out connections with others, or are you still gaining a lay of the land?"

A bit of sprucing makes a pyramid of colourful apples. She adds one of the flowers atop, and then steps back to consider the effect. "I encourage growth to honour the earth, and provide a place of natural serenity in the middle of the city. Noise and bustle are everywhere. Everyone needs a place to escape them, no? Though Lady Amora pointed out to me I'd planted nearly every plant with a sorcerous purpose and correspondence in seidr. Many I grow because they're lovely or taste good." The rest speaks for itself. "She is not well. What she feared may have come to pass. Amora spoke of the torments she endured during her apprenticeship, and though I loathe to break her confidence, I worry for her. She's not right."


"We have hobbies that distract us, yes," and Thor puts that second cup of coffee down, "though our tasks preclude taking them more seriously than we do. I, for one," he gestures with an arm out in a flourish, and there is that lopsided grin and self-deprecating tone, "… am a horrible carpenter. But it is as my Lady wishes, and I am honour bound." It's light, his words, filled with mirth. "But—" and a hand rises, finger in the air, "our farmers are our farmers. Our carpenters, our masons.. all for purpose. The beauty you saw of Asgard is by talent and work. Five hundred years is barely time out of childhood and into apprenticeship. To learn the plants of the Nine Realms? Well.." and he laughs again, adding a shrug.

Thor leans on the counter now, a hand on the edge before he hops up easily, booted feet dangling. "I am not long here. When we said that my brother was Protector, that means this Realm is his. My responsibility to her now is the same as the other Realms. Do not think that I have aught else to do with her." His tones drop, and he seems disappointed. "Such was my title, but the All-Father has declared it thusly, now that he and Loki have made amends. So, anything that Midgard dreams of will be told to me by my brother in order to aid me in my task."

The cup is brought to his lips, and he exhales into it as a sigh. "Now, I need to count who I have with me for such a task."

Words of Amora brings Thor slowly to a pause, and his expression shifts, and he frowns. "She is different, though I haven't yet determined if she is consumed with hatred for me, or pity for herself. The All-Father could have set her in a dungeon dark, or stripped her completely and sent her to one of the other Realms, nameless."


Scarlett rests her back to the counter, her hands clasped in front of her. Slim fingers show no additions, no imprint of a ring, and for good measure if she has to frequently rely upon gloves. The glittering lacquer on her nails alone gives a hint of detail, transparent backdrop capturing flecks of silver and iridescent green. It's a tiny flag in a wide, wide world.

"Five hundred years is an apprenticeship; half of one. I dread to think how you must view us, assuming our expertise in a matter will be secured by age thirty," she muses, glancing to the coffeemaker. She doesn't immediately help herself out any sort of mug. Assumptions are a different sort, that Sif might drift through and take it. "Such a broad universe, so much to discover. I think that may be your greatest blessing; the time to learn and refine whatever you set yourself towards."

Easier to address the happier topics than the more difficult ones, even if she winds her way so. The bohemian adds, "I will always assist you as I can. You've offered me an experience in life I should never think to have, and you are a good person. Your commitment to doing the best you may for Asgard, your family, here too stands out like a beacon. It's inspiring. Forgive me for sounding overly familiar, but whatever I can do for your tasks, ask."

Then it comes around, so the shadows dance, falling under the sun and moon. "Amora is not herself, and she has nothing. No wrath, no amusement. No rage in her breast, no passion for anything. She spoke to Crystal tonelessly, Fandral read nothing from her at all. She was empty. I could expect her not to care for me, but them?"


"There are those of us that view you as inconsequential. That your lives are a flicker of a flame too quickly spent. We've spent over a two centuries in your company many years ago, and in that time, we watched generations conceived, live, pass; one after another after another. Too brief a candle. But there are a few of us that find pleasure regardless because in that brief span, so much is gained, and you push ever forward." Thor sounds almost as a father to children. Almost, not quite. "To truly understand what it is that brings such a spark to such a short existence, we simply don't know. Perhaps one or two of us can watch, be part of it, but at the end, we live on and mortals…" He shrugs his shoulders as if it's a finality and takes up the extra coffee in offrance.

"I thank you for your kind words, Scarlett," Thor rumbles, and he chuckles softly, "There are those who would see it as a weakness. I am a mix of both my father and my mother, and I think at times, the All-Father sees that as weakness." Which is probably why he has his family around him.

Thor looks down into his own mug at the report regarding Amora, and his head bobs up and down in a nod. "I will speak with Her Majesty." Give Karnilla her due; particularly before a mortal. "It is a delicate thing, asking after her, as she worked both against me and threatened Asgard. Her punishment is fit to the crime, and I am loathe to appear as if I contest my Father's wishes."


"We are but brief lights, and in those short times allotted to us, we burn as fierce and hot as we can. I still see some who approach their days with a strange languor or act as though they've seen everything there is to see, at the ripe old age of thirty, and there is nothing worthwhile or interesting any longer." A shake of her head casts the vibrant plaits into motion, flowers tumbling down her back along that living river of autumnal flame. It's only with difficulty one might see Scarlett's frost white tresses at the front, her bangs dyed and simply woven in fashions to hide their presence. Though that, in a way, has started to fade out. "I have heard their despair whispering from the corners, the voices of so many souls unhappy with their lives, anguished at their lot, certain they have reached all there is worthy to have. It's a terrible thing to weigh up under. Yet I was listening for someone else, and Amora wasn't in that tide. I might have thought she would be; hers is a difficult lot, and she never hesitated to speak when she was disconsolate or irritated or disdainful of something. She wasn't there."

Her fingers trace over her lips, and then a grim, cool weight of memory crashes away by a forcible shudder of her shoulders. He can sound paternal; she can sound worried. "Weaknesses apply to all. If your weakness is caring for others, so be it; I would rather that is your weakness than a man made of stone without the least care in the world for anything beneath himself. We're fortunate to have gathered your interests, compared to the other things out there. A great, flaming lord of fire giants comes to mind, whom even his subjects dread." She should have cause to know. Somewhere in the faded vaults, imprisoned in her mind, those voices yet weakly sing.

"She suffered no little amount in her apprenticeship, Amora said. She described her labours and even with a great block of salt as skepticism, I found it hard not to feel for her. I almost think the Norn Queen scares her. I'm not gainsaying your father's punishment, nor do I think Amora should get off scot-free for what she did…" Makes that whole breakneck flight on the harvest in an attempt to disarm her rather pointless, otherwise. "But I wonder if Amora's hidden herself away or lost herself, an unexpected consequence? I know what she attempted in her black mood, my lord, I could practically feel it crawling through her skin. Forgive me, I came dreadfully close from taking that from her and hoping I could get out reach of Asgard fast enough before it consumed either of us. But this… this Amora isn't right. How can she learn and do good to Asgard if she can't decipher what's right or wrong?"


Thor lifts a finger to forestall more words, but he waits patiently before, "Do not look at the actions of Her Majesty through your eyes, or the eyes of a mortal, Scarlett." Even as he says the words, he knows they don't make sense. "What we bear and what we do is far, far different than what is done here. What is acceptable and bearable to us is the worst of torments to you. It would break you as certainly as death. I cannot speak to Karnilla's methods because I know not what they are. I should have faith knowing that the All-Father knows and that one of his subjects will return to us chastened." Does he sound as if he has that faith? Loki, Sif, Fandral or any who know him well could easily say, 'Aw, hell no!' and they would be correct. "If I do not, it is a delicate line and a burden that weighs heavily. As I said, I will speak to Her Majesty on just such a topic, but I will not question her methods. I will simply ask how she is going about to a mutually beneficial outcome."

Questioning her methods.

"Amora is also a friend from childhood. We had," Thor exhales in a sigh and continues, "We had shared a bed, just as she and Loki had.. and she and Fandral.. but those times were in an attempt to make me jealous." They failed by the sounds of it. "She is lovely, but not the woman for me. And I have grown to the age where I do not seek distractions in many different beds."

His coffee is drained in a single swallow and he actually turns about to rinse it and set it into the sink. Trainable! "It is not for you to ask that either, lest the Queen believe that is Loki's thought on the matter."


"The number of times she either tried to bait me or arouse any sort of envy, I think, by declaring her conquests…" Scarlett's hand rises to her mouth, smothering what is one part grimace, two parts grin, and all of it dosed in a thousand pints of rue. She might as well just rip up every rue bush from here to the Rockies. "Believe me, I understand your stance, and she could not conceive why I would never respond to her barbs or bait. At least then. Now, I'm sure she would tell me that the interest of a bed is fleeting and she is subject to some other task."

Then he goes suggesting she's a proxy by fiat for Loki.

Her gaze flickers upwards, eyebrows rising slightly and the rounding of her eyes answer enough. "I didn't intend to ask anyone except you. I spoke with you that you might speak plainly about Amora. And, as you see fit, discard or act on the concern."

Point the first. The second? "If Amora or her queen are ever in my vicinity, they shall be treated politely and neutrally as possible until I can make my excuses and depart. I have no desire whatsoever to engage with them, much less arouse their ire, interest, or thoughts towards anything. My associations make me a possible instrument of sideways diplomacy, and words or acts done reflect on you and your brothers. That old, horrible adage 'be seen and not heard?' I've memorized it through and through." She glances into the sink, then back towards the blonde gods, her expression grave. "Any who think to use me to curry favour are likewise mistaken. They'd be better to think of me as a painting on the wall, perhaps interesting to look at but not particularly instructive or relevant to the proceedings. I do not intend to be used in such a fashion, or open myself up to such errors, as much as possible."


"All reflects upon us. My Warriors Three, Sif.. even my brothers. Should any of them cause offense, it is to me that it shall be raised. Should I cause offense," and Thor rolls his hand as example, which he knows she understands. She's astute enough. "I have already decided that I will visit Nornheim, but that will come after Vanaheim, and after my brother travels to Jotunheim." Balder, that is. "There will be little change of Amora's fortune until then, I am certain, so time is still ours.

Thor wanders a few steps to look down the hall; the door to Sif's room is still closed, and the prince chuffs a soft breath. "She could sleep through a full battle if allowed," is murmured fondly. "Though she would curse me roundly if I allowed it."

Stepping forward again, Thor looks at the table and the settings of apples, the flowers now tied within Scarlett's hair as plaits. "I have more work to do; if you care, the kitchen needs setting to before Hilde arrives, or you may keep me company while I set the fence?"


"You have the heavy burden, as much as your brother's. I do only what I can in private to ease that. In public, I am better a ghost. Would I could be nothing but air, mm? I'll be happy to tidy up a little in here and come out to help you. I can assist, and I shall do so silently. Don't worry about holding a conversation." She slips her fingers through her braids and pulls them back, and offers a wan smile. "At least it is something productive. So much to do, not enough I can do without waiting."

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