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One day.. less than one day since the news, and the city, the world is in a battle, perhaps for its existence. The forces of Muspelheim and Jotunheim cross over to Midgard, and battles are cropping up everywhere. New York City, for the moment, is a little less in turmoil, at this exact moment, though the darkness overhead speaks of one that is still in a very bad 'place', with lightning dancing from cloud to cloud.
'Home' at 121 is, in a word, a wreck. Tables are overturned, chairs broken, and the building itself is silent; the servants have been sent home. The guards, dismissed, and in the back of the house styled Asgardian Embassy, Thor has overturned the feast table, and he's standing there, dirty, cut; showing all the signs of pitched battles fought.
*
Shards of broken mirrors serve as Amora's transit into the once beautiful mansion. The wards were gone and she flickers into being before the Thunderer, looking as untouched as ever, though for once on Midgard, not in her mortal guise. Without much pause she steps up toward the golden haired God of Thunder and simply throws her arms around him, unless he pushed her away that is.
Even then, she hardly looked bothered by his state, much less the state of the broken furniture around them. "I'm so sorry Thor," She whispered softly, golden brows pinched as she searched his face for a moment.
"I would have been here sooner, but other wards were failing else where that needed attention.."
*
Thor knows the feeling, even if he can't really feel the magic that brings Amora forth. His head hangs and he breathes deeply, hand clenching and unclenching. He doesn't push her away, but his body does stiffen. Undoubtedly it's not her per se, but more the circumstances.
"He .. I cannot believe it," is rumbled softly. "It has to be some.. trick, something.." He doesn't sound as if he believes it, however. "Mother has retired to her chambers. Father does not speak on it…" Thor swallows and shakes his head before he lifts a hand to lay on Amora's. "And I cannot respond. He who killed my brother is dead, though it is my understanding that the man who did it…"
*
Amora smooths her hands up and over Thor's battle stained countenance, her lips pursed together as she summons magic not in the act of seduction or some other game, but an invigorating wave of magic. Not quite healing magic, but a close second, siphoning off power from what she had and feeding it to the Thunderer to renew his strength.
"I have searched the realms via scrying as best I can, I have seen nor heard a hint of your brother," Her voice was soft, almost soothing in tone. "From Hel and onwards, there is no sign of him. 'Tis almost as if he vanished from creation. If there is some game, some aim beyond my ken, I know it not. But I will swear to you, darling, that I believe there is a hand of fate beyond our reckoning at work."
*
Thor can feel the warmth of the magic as it courses through, and as she presses and holds his face in her hands, blue eyes close for a moment. Shaking his head again, he is ready to turn away again, ready to do… something. Anything, but the lack of ability to lash out at Loki's murder is frustrating at best. Maddening at worst. And so, all he has is that 'close second' that are the Muspell and Jotun.
"No sign of him in Hel? No word of him in Valhalla, though the manner of his death might preclude that." Even Princes need to die a heroic death for entry. Even they are not guaranteed a spot. "Princess Crystalia spoke with my brother, just as I have, and he told her the same thing; he would remain to force the creatures who had killed their president to show themselves. That he would use himself as the lure…"
Thor shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling, his hair falling back, "It was not worth it. Damn you, Loki. There could have been another way. Should have been…"
*
Amora steps lightly around him as he paces, as the energy renews his form and his need for battle. Still, she continues to remain in his shadow, delicate hands smoothing over muscles and erasing what flaws of exhaustion she could find, repairing his armor where she found a burnished mark or scorched chink. Light touches that barely wasted time in flirtation.
"Even the wisest cannot see all ends, Thor." Her voice just as gentle, just as soft as before. "But nay, no sign in Hela's realms. Nor in any of the others that I could see via the mists or mirrors. Divination has always been a clouded path to the future, and now all ends are in flux. ‘Tis a moment in time where we are not meant to see the end, or aught else hides my ability to see." She pursed her lips, frowning.
"You need rest, Thunderer, my magic will soothe your troubles and heal your form, but .. it is no replacement for the rest your mind so will crave.."
*
Thor lowers his gaze and shakes his head at the suggestion, a distinct line of opposition. "I cannot, Amora. I need answers, and Midgard needs the aid. I promised… Asgard promised, and even now, her armies begin to arrive in order to properly fight the battles, and win the day." It'll be a harder and harder fight, and those here simply can't do it all. Too many places…
Loki did more than anyone could possibly know.
His voice softens as he turns to face the Enchantress, and his head ducks a little. It is as if nothing had passed between them to cause such great rifts, "I will return home when Midgard is safe from the other Realms and find my peace, but that time simply is not yet come."
*
Amora stood there, simply searching his features for a long moment, her expression soft and lacking any indication of the past troubles between them. Asgard had suffered a blow, Thor had suffered, and she was there for him without question. Such was the loyalty of Amora the Enchantress.
Still, her hands fluttered over him, lit by her green hued magic. Fingertips brushing back his sweat soaked hair and smoothing over tangles.
"You will do the armies no good if you drop in battle due to exhaustion, Thor. All warriors need time to rest before a great battle." She sighed, her brows pinched. "If it comes to that, I shall pull you out of battle rather than lose you too. Asgard cannot lose another Prince."
*
"If it comes to that, Amora, I expect you upon the battlefield with your magic." Just as Loki used to do… fought by his side, and between the two? There wasn't anything that could beat them. It was achingly familiar with Merlin beside him, wielding the magic as he went for those of the more martial in nature. Familiar but not right.
"I will begin taking the troops where they are needed, and whether or not those of Midgard show to fight, we will." They are a stronger lot, heartier, and can go for longer periods of time for food, rest.. but they're not unfeeling. "If I fall in battle and yet hold the promise of Asgard, then it is a success. There is yet one more Prince." Baldr.
*
Amora sighed, shaking her head faintly, a sad and aching look in her expression, embedded in those green eyes. "You know that I would use what magic I have to see you safe above all others, Thor." She smiles weakly, and then glanced down at the hammer at his side as always. "And I know I shall live yet to regret it again."
A fingertip pressed to her lips, smoldering green magic in a smoky haze as she sketched runes in the air, that faded between them. Then she reached out, tapping the fingertip against the uru-hammer's side. "May you yet save your bearer when all else fails. May you guard and keep the realms with added vigor and storms." She whispered, and her magic faded, absorbed into the metal as if it never was.
Who could say if her enchantment would in fact work or lend aid to the mighty hammer of legend?
Her gaze swept up to the Thunderer again and she smiled, "I have given you what I can, I am bound still by your father's commands and I have given you the last of the magic I had that went untouched.." She'd given him the enchantments from her lips, the strongest she'd had left to her. A sigh pulled from her lips and she leaned up to press a tender kiss against his cheek.
"Be safe, Thunderer." She whispered, "I've other wards to tend to, other veils that were breached.." She waited only a beat, tracing those fingers against his cheeks, before she'd vanish into a cloud of green smoke.
*
They're both mourning. Thor knows it as much as Amora does. In this, they are as they had once been so many years ago. Millenia. "Amora," her name is said quietly, "I … I know." Pretty lame, but in this moment, it's all he can do.
Mjolnir, if it could chirp, it would. Added magic, and whether or not it does take is anyone's guess. But there's an echo of the runes laid upon the great hammer, and if anything fails, it won't be that weapon. Ever stalwart, ever faithful to the one who is worthy of it.
"Be safe yourself, Amora. Do not put yourself within harm’s reach. Not if you can help it. This is a battle to be fought with swords; your strength lies elsewhere." And as far as Thor is concerned, that's okay. "Be safe and do not hesitate to call for me."