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The infirmary is quiet, thank the gods. The breeze at the window is calm in the early morning, not long after dawn, and Kelda Stormrider stands there. The wispy curtains blow lightly about her and she seems to be studying her hands.
For their delicacy, they seem so substantial now. It would be so — she's no longer where she should be. The Royal Family needed her. It was explained to her, but it's vague and fuzzy, the memories. Something of balance…? But something is also desperately missing. Her light brows knit as she touches each fingertip to her thumb in a mirrored pattern between her hands.
"Where art thou, lost kindling…?" she whispers to herself.
There is quiet conversation with the nurse. There are healers in Asgard— even an immortal can be wounded near to death. But it's a rare thing for such an injury, and many of the healers of that realm more tend to the soul than the body.
But an Asgardian soul is a powerful thing.
"Lady Stormrider," says an even, deep baritone— and Thor steps into the infrimary. He wears a dark blue leather jerkin over baggy trousers, leaving his forearms bare save for a pair of heavy leather bracelets near his wrists. He dips his head at her in a courteous bow. "I hope thou art not disturbed by my presence. I am here on behalf of Odin and Frigga. They bid me check on thy condition. Is this a good time?" he inquires, still half outside the room but managing to fill the entire doorway.
The sorceress turns where she stands and looks to see that the voice she thought belonged to the eldest of the royal sons does indeed belong to him. She frowns in passing for the little delay in recognition before inclining her head more deeply in deference to the Prince. In her light robe tied loosely about her waist, Kelda might seem more prepared for bed than to take on a new day.
"No time as the present, my lord." Her voice is light and sweet if not somewhat hollow still, full of uncertainty. "I am as well as passed time can do me favor. I slept. Now I awaken. Asgard has not changed much, I see. Or…mayhaps I dreamt it all." She looks out the window again, as if the answer can be found somewhere beyond the panes.
"Asgard is the Eternal City," Thor agrees, looking out the window at the view. "It is a land of constants in a universe of ceaseless change."
He looks back to her, examining her with a warrior's professional assessment. "The chirurgeons say you are physically well enough ,and the healers find no ailment of body or mind to concern themselves. I am sure you have many questions about what caused you to be returned to Asgard at such a time— Odin only, knows all the truth, but I might answer what I can for you," he offers, moving to sit in a wicker-basket chair near her bed with a patient expression.
Kelda's nod can be seen in the shifting of her pale hair from behind. In the morning light, it's truly ashen-blonde, missing what brightness exists for the lack of clear sunshine. Her walk over to the bed, with its neatly-made sheets and cover, is graceful and made more so by the flowing fabric of her robe. She sits and only her toes peek forth from the hem.
"I would know how the unbalance came to be. This…reason for my return." Her eyes, glacial-blue, rest on Thor with a brush of wistfulness.
The story takes some telling to complete. Thor leaves little out, bluntly honest. His 'death' on the Bifrost. Loki's betrayal. His resurrection on Earth and Amora's role. The Norns— and the imbalances of Asgard.
"Odin and the Norns alone— perhaps Hela— conceive of what price was paid, and the balances that must be maintained," Thor tells Kelda, earnestly. "But he conveyed word to the Valykriad, and you were returned to Asgard on golden wings. I know this must be a most confusing time, but my Father— and myself— wish to thank you for returning to serve the Royal Family once more. It is an honor to meet one who will return to the mortal fold for such service."
The color in her cheeks is as washed out as her natural coloration, skin and hair alike. Still, it is a blush for all that she can muster it.
"It is an honor in turn, my lord," she murmurs, and dips her chin in another respectful nod. "I believe I understand the need of it, though…I cannot fathom why my memory retains such holes. I would know, but the healers have told me that it may remain unknown. Why my own mind would retain such things from me, I do not know, but…I will make do with my state." She gives him a minimal smile as she looks from her folded hands in her lap to him. "What else is there to do?"
She frowns again, the sudden expression a crackling through a bland expression otherwise. "My lord, I am…missing…" One hand closes around the memory of something in her lap. The muscle memory is strong enough that her fingers hold the exact diameter of the length for all of a second. "I am missing a staff. A…focus, a weapon of anchoring." Her eyes meet his again. "Is the Queen aware of this?" Indeed, Frigga of much skill in the Arts.
"The ways of the Valkyriad and the Norns are a mystery even to me," Thor apologizes to Kelda. "My father may know more, but Odin keeps much to himself. For the protection of Asgard," he hastens to add.
"You are of course welcome to the life you wish. We place no bounds on you. But if you desire to serve, then Odin bids you aid me," he tells her. "My Shield-Bearer is absent on her own quests, and it does not do for me to adventure without escort. Apparently," he mutters.
"As for arms and armor, I will equip you from my personal armory as best I am able. If this 'staff' is something which was once yours, we might consult the Queen on the topic, or search the armory and see if it was stored with the rest of the treasures of Asgard. I am sure it can be recovered," he tells her, comfortingly.
"Is there aught you require of me, for the moment?" he asks, before rising.
Her eyes fall to her hand again, held palm-up in her lap. The apology is an answer, though not the one she wished for in her heart.
"Not at the moment, my lord. It would be…good for me, I think, to escort you in your adventures. It will give my mind elsewhere to be than milling about in mad haring circles over that which cannot be regained in the now." A nod that seems to be convincing herself of the decision before she rises to her feet. "When would it please you for me to approach the Queen on the matter? Or, if you fear her without knowledge, to search the armory?"
"We shall search the armory, together," Thor assures Kelda. "If 'tis there, we can find it readily enough. If not, we'll contact my mo- the Queen, and inquire if she has knowledge of it in her custody. But you must be armed and armored in either case, so a visit to the treasure room is well advised."
He squeezes her shoulder. "Rest. Eat, if you can. When you are ready, send word to me and we'll see about getting you back into fighting condition." With a broad smile, he bows agian, and takes his leave.