[It is incredible. A wasteland of a world, desolate as Helheim, left as nothing but a skeletal husk compared to what it once was. Yet still, mortal life carries on in much the same fashion as always. No matter how frustration claws away at him that he is, for a second time in his life, exiled and cut off from all that he knows, Thor finds himself in awe of this realm-- or more accurately, the people in it. They've endured more hardship than they deserve, and should they need an ally in this darkness, so be it: he'll gladly defend them down to his last breath.
For the time being, however, he is content to study whatever curious magic keeps the liquid magma entrapped and blazing hot within the confines of this so called 'Lava-lamp'.
The merchant attempting to sell it seems less than pleased with his curiosity, batting at his heavy hands, muttering a pleading chorus of 'careful-- for the love of god, please be careful!']
[There's a long moment he spends in the middle of the street, staring at him. He ignores the people jostling him, making angry words at having to go around him, of dragging carts up onto sidewalks, take them at sharp angles, because he won't move. He just fixes his gaze straight ahead at Thor, and feels the bottom of his stomach drop out.
There's an absurd moment in the white noise of his mind, where he thinks that maybe everything he's ever known was a lie. Like his mother just told him his father died in an explosion and was crazy enough to convince the rest of the world it was true- When really, George Kirk ran off into the wilderness of some planet and became some weird, tree hugging armour wearing hippie-
Okay, probably not, but it's not like he isn't completely aware of what his father looks like, he's seen holovids, other things. Knows from the way his mother has treated him, from the way after he hit a certain age she stopped looking directly at him, that he resembles his father greatly.
He steps forward, thinks of how to get his attention that isn't completely crazy, that isn't...]
Dad?
[Yeah, okay, so much for that plan. Tries again, stumbles over everything] I mean- Are you-
[It's a sentence that hangs off awkwardly. Not like someone he knows, or someone in his world, because both aren't true any longer- And one of them had only been true in a timeline Kirk will never be apart of.
He shrugs idly, like it doesn't matter. Reconstructs his expression from shell shocked to pleasant] You never did say. Who you were.
[ Puzzling still, even with an attempt made for clarification, and Thor-- being more a fighter than philosopher or scholar-- doesn't exactly take it as a signal for the subject to be dropped.]
My name is Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard and a 'boy who is also a friend' of the Lady Jane Foster.
[Did he say that right? Of course he said that right.]
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GOING FOR AN EX SETTING BECAUSE IT IS THE EASIEST COMMON GROUND
For the time being, however, he is content to study whatever curious magic keeps the liquid magma entrapped and blazing hot within the confines of this so called 'Lava-lamp'.
The merchant attempting to sell it seems less than pleased with his curiosity, batting at his heavy hands, muttering a pleading chorus of 'careful-- for the love of god, please be careful!']
yes good
There's an absurd moment in the white noise of his mind, where he thinks that maybe everything he's ever known was a lie. Like his mother just told him his father died in an explosion and was crazy enough to convince the rest of the world it was true- When really, George Kirk ran off into the wilderness of some planet and became some weird, tree hugging armour wearing hippie-
Okay, probably not, but it's not like he isn't completely aware of what his father looks like, he's seen holovids, other things. Knows from the way his mother has treated him, from the way after he hit a certain age she stopped looking directly at him, that he resembles his father greatly.
He steps forward, thinks of how to get his attention that isn't completely crazy, that isn't...]
Dad?
[Yeah, okay, so much for that plan. Tries again, stumbles over everything] I mean- Are you-
...Who are you?
[Fucking smooth, Kirk]
no subject
And he's been tasered.]
Are you all right, my friend? You appear to be somewhat ill.
[Because you're, you know, running around calling strangers 'dad'.]
no subject
Look like someone.
[It's a sentence that hangs off awkwardly. Not like someone he knows, or someone in his world, because both aren't true any longer- And one of them had only been true in a timeline Kirk will never be apart of.
He shrugs idly, like it doesn't matter. Reconstructs his expression from shell shocked to pleasant] You never did say. Who you were.
no subject
My name is Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard and a 'boy who is also a friend' of the Lady Jane Foster.
[Did he say that right? Of course he said that right.]
And you are?