thor odinson ☽ ( ... ) @eindridi
the museum hums with its quiet eternity, marble bones of forgotten empires, air thick with the dust of time and reverence. golden light spills through the glass ceiling, gilding every edge of her from the curve of her cheek to the dark spill of her hair to the steady hands that have touched relics older than his myths. she looks up when he says it, voice deep as thunder before rain. very few people surprise me. raya smiles, slow, small, knowing. the kind of smile that belongs to someone who has spent her life among ghosts and learned to listen when they speak. ❝ that’s because you stopped looking for wonder, my dear, ❞ she says, her tone almost playful but threaded with something softer, something ancient. she takes a step closer, her heels clicking against stone like a heartbeat, her bracelets catching the sunlight. ❝ you’ve seen too much of the extraordinary to believe it can still hide in the ordinary. ❞
she reaches out, her fingers tracing the rim of an artifact displayed between them, a broken chalice from alexandria, gold leaf flaking like memory. ❝ i live among what’s left behind,❞ she murmurs, gaze flicking up to meet his, dark eyes bright as desert glass. ❝ the fragments. the ruins. the things everyone stopped believing could mean anything, until they do. ❞ a pause, tender as dusk. ❝ so maybe, if i surprise you, it isn’t because i’m extraordinary. ❞ her voice dips lower, quiet but certain. ❝ it’s because you still can be. surprised, i mean. alive enough to be undone by something small. by someone small. by someone human. ❞ the light catches in her hair again, gold bleeding into the dark, and for one suspended second, she looks almost mythic herself, a woman carved from sun and dust, daring a god to remember what it feels like to be moved. ❝ besides, you simply talk too much. ❞
