First there is…nothing.
Fog?
Maybe some wind…
Maybe not?
Everything is weird and upside down and cold and shivery and -
And then, something opens.
It wasn't supposed to do that. But it breaks open - and it fragments - and something pours through that's not supposed to be there and it fills him up so quickly and suddenly he is drowning and -
ithurts- !
By the gods, it hurts alot.
It's so hard to breathe. It's impossible to think. He just needs to make it stop.
The thing that is hurting. He needs to STOP IT.
He tries to thrash. He tries to bellow. He is Thor, the god of thunder! He needs to open his eyes and fight!
His body doesn't respond.
Maybe it isn't even there.
He is lost.
Jane - Malekith - the Aether - the Conjunction - the nine realms - the battle - Midguard - Loki - Mjölnir- all of these pieces crash around in his head…
He is panicking. He can't make sense of anything. He can't breathe. He can't think! Is he still fighting? Is he dead?Where is Jane? Why can't I move? Jane! She is in danger! I left her behind! I need to pull it together and wake up and fight!
Nothing happens. Nothing works.
And hehurts.
More than he has ever hurt. More than an Asgardian is ever supposed to hurt.
Something is terribly wrong.
He hears…something.
Maybe voices?
They seem to drift in and out of his ears and all around him, but they don't make any sense. Then the noises get louder and the hurt gets more, and Thor can't put any of the pieces together. He feels like he is tumbling into ashes and glass. His skin is on fire. His body is pierced with is not ok,he wants to it! Go away!
Did he make any noise? He tried! It didn't seem like he made anything happen, but - maybe he did?
Anyway, even if hehadbeen able to control his voice - his brain - anything at all - it seems that no one is listening. Because the pain doesn't go away. It hurts more. It's growing. It's too big already but it grows and it grows and he can't fight it. He tries to push it away, but his arms won't move. Nothing will move. He is freezing cold - then he is burning up - then he feels like his body is bending over backwards until he might break in half -
He may have roared. He may have screamed. He isn't sure. He is trying not to give in to the fear that is surging inside of him.
He has never felt so helpless.
He feels his breathing, quick and frightened and shallow. He feels a hand on his arm. Someone is there. Someone is trying to help him.
He hurts. So much. He can't do this. He can't survive this. He -
And then - something changes -
It ends…. !
The pain fades. It runs out of him like ink. Maybe on its own. Or the voices took it away. Or maybe he scared it away by yelling. It didn't matter.
In its absence he has ….sweet relief.
It's the most wonderful thing he has ever felt.
He may have tears on his cheeks.
He can breathe.
He canbreathe.
His breathing slows, and becomes regular. He feels the hand on his arm again. Somebody touches his forehead. Somebody kind. He wants to see who it is. He wants to thank them for their help.
But his deepening breaths won't let him stay. They carry him away from everything and deep into nothingness, and
he forgets time -
—-
Thor drifts.
A few days later, or maybe a hundred years later, he swims up - from Hel, maybe? Where was he?
He hears the voices again.
Noises swirl around him, but it is all so dim, and far away, and he is so sleepy. He needs to heal. He can't be bothered to listen. It's time to sleep.
He drifts.
—
He awakens later. He feels something painful. But it isn't much, and he can ignore it. So he does. It's all good. Whatever.
He drifts.
—
Later he rouses again. He realizes: he can see. Are his eyes open? Were they closed before? Why?
It feels like he should know this, but all of the answers keep slipping out of his head. But he can see - maybe - a dark room? and a glowing light? And some people, maybe. Talking quietly. Moving above him.
Soul forge, he thinks.
Then: what's that? How do I know that?
He is still very much too far away to care.
He aches. He is so very tired. He feels an unfamiliar weakness that might have infuriated him if he had the strength to be angry. He definitely doesn't.
He feels a hand in his. Maybe it's the same hand as before? Maybe not.
It feels good.
That's nice, he thinks. I like that. That reminds me of…something…someone?
It's nice, anyway.
He sleeps.
—-