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pirateangelbabyThor has been attempting to access the Nexus every day for months now, and every time, he's been denied. Today, however, his PINpoint opens the portal with no fanfare whatsoever, and for a long moment he stares at it in disbelief before hastily calling for a runner to round up as many volunteers as they can find. Ship's stores are running low, and they're still days away from a suitable port with little left to trade. The Nexus is the far better option for a faster, cheaper resupply, and one man - even if that man is a god - is not going to be enough to carry back all that they need.
His first step into the Plaza falters as he trades the sterile, recycled air of the ship for a real planetary atmosphere, overflowing with air currents and moisture and new green growth, the natural tide of elemental forces, of life, and it's like coming up for air after holding his breath for far too long underwater, rushing into his lungs and infusing his body with its vitality. The tightly-coiled knot in his chest bleeds away, unwinding the anxiety and irritability that had built so slowly he'd hardly recognized its presence until its abrupt absence, and he wants nothing more than to simply stand here for hours and breathe, to drink it in with body and soul, filling up the empty spaces with the murmur of the weather's currents, slotting into place like a missing paving stone from a garden path. For a moment he even indulges those impulses, closing his single eye as he reaches out and nudges an nearby warm front to come a little closer and bring its fair breezes with it, urging the season deeper into spring. His pent-up elemental magic, which has had little outlet these past months, is all too eager to be used and washes out a little further than he intended, a few nearby trees blushing brighter green with new leaves and flower buds, yet somehow he can't be embarrassed by the momentary loss of control, too caught up in the satisfaction of being able to do it at all.
He has important work to do, though, and it's with great reluctance that he turns his attention from the weather and to his entourage, nearly two hundred adult Asgardians waiting for their king's commands. He splits them into several groups, some heading for the Wilds to bring back as much fish and game as they can find, some tasked with locating a source of fresh fruits and vegetables, others assigned to fetch other necessities - medicines, spare components for the ship, toiletries, and the like. He leaves a pair of sentries to keep an eye on the portal, just in case it threatens to close again, with instructions that everyone is to return to the ship immediately if that should happen.
With the volunteers all off on their assigned tasks, this leaves Thor free to start gathering vital intel, and it isn't long before he hears the story about a brutal winter it seems he's fortunate to have missed. After the winter spirit's cryptic yet pointed warnings at Yule, it makes him frown all the more to hear, and he can't help but wonder what awful trouble he would've gotten himself into had he been here and tried to calm the weather himself.
Best not to think about that, given his track record with spirits recently. One curse was more than enough for him, thank you.
Feeling at least somewhat assured that the storm is past and the portals are stable again, what better time to ask a question that's been on his mind for weeks now? "When you're expecting to stay indoors for a long time, how do you prefer to keep yourself busy? I have over two thousand people to keep occupied and I'm running out of ideas." Okay, yes, and the cabin fever has been getting to him, too. When you're used to being able to roam across the universe at will, being stuck in a metal tube for weeks is a surefire way to go a little stir-crazy.
His first step into the Plaza falters as he trades the sterile, recycled air of the ship for a real planetary atmosphere, overflowing with air currents and moisture and new green growth, the natural tide of elemental forces, of life, and it's like coming up for air after holding his breath for far too long underwater, rushing into his lungs and infusing his body with its vitality. The tightly-coiled knot in his chest bleeds away, unwinding the anxiety and irritability that had built so slowly he'd hardly recognized its presence until its abrupt absence, and he wants nothing more than to simply stand here for hours and breathe, to drink it in with body and soul, filling up the empty spaces with the murmur of the weather's currents, slotting into place like a missing paving stone from a garden path. For a moment he even indulges those impulses, closing his single eye as he reaches out and nudges an nearby warm front to come a little closer and bring its fair breezes with it, urging the season deeper into spring. His pent-up elemental magic, which has had little outlet these past months, is all too eager to be used and washes out a little further than he intended, a few nearby trees blushing brighter green with new leaves and flower buds, yet somehow he can't be embarrassed by the momentary loss of control, too caught up in the satisfaction of being able to do it at all.
He has important work to do, though, and it's with great reluctance that he turns his attention from the weather and to his entourage, nearly two hundred adult Asgardians waiting for their king's commands. He splits them into several groups, some heading for the Wilds to bring back as much fish and game as they can find, some tasked with locating a source of fresh fruits and vegetables, others assigned to fetch other necessities - medicines, spare components for the ship, toiletries, and the like. He leaves a pair of sentries to keep an eye on the portal, just in case it threatens to close again, with instructions that everyone is to return to the ship immediately if that should happen.
With the volunteers all off on their assigned tasks, this leaves Thor free to start gathering vital intel, and it isn't long before he hears the story about a brutal winter it seems he's fortunate to have missed. After the winter spirit's cryptic yet pointed warnings at Yule, it makes him frown all the more to hear, and he can't help but wonder what awful trouble he would've gotten himself into had he been here and tried to calm the weather himself.
Best not to think about that, given his track record with spirits recently. One curse was more than enough for him, thank you.
Feeling at least somewhat assured that the storm is past and the portals are stable again, what better time to ask a question that's been on his mind for weeks now? "When you're expecting to stay indoors for a long time, how do you prefer to keep yourself busy? I have over two thousand people to keep occupied and I'm running out of ideas." Okay, yes, and the cabin fever has been getting to him, too. When you're used to being able to roam across the universe at will, being stuck in a metal tube for weeks is a surefire way to go a little stir-crazy.
