[ ϟ ]—– Walking beside the man brought about a sense of comforting familiarity, bringing the now King back to feeling as a warrior once more.
Rogers' words were grounding, anchored in that same old stee-laced softness that had once held together a team, a dream, a war-torn galaxy by its seams. Listening intently, with footsteps echoing off stone thunderer noted the nods from passersby, the way they regarded the man. As something present, living and vital, and far from a relic.
That more than anything, was oddly reassuring. As was the weight of the touch.
Exhaling softly then, the god glanced briefly to the side.
' It is good that you are here,' he speaks at last, the deep bass warm with approval.' You have found the shape of yourself again, not how others wished you to be, yet your very own.'
A minor pause during which the faintest spark of a grin emerges.
' Even if that shape appears to be of a mountain man of sorts, who wishes to forget what day it is.'
The mirth faded languidly then, from lips and ceruleans both, shoulders rolled momentarily as if bracing himself before offering an answer.
' New Asgard is... surviving. They endure, as we do. There are births again, and feasts, a festival or two. I still have not acquired a throne however, it is on my to do list.'
Corners of the god's eyes crinkled at the dry, mischievous remark before expression sobers once more.
' The winters are cruel however, fjords cracking in places I thought would be eternal, heavy winds for weeks. We will see, how long we will stay there.'
Coming to a halt gaze is a sweeping assessment of the compound then, a deliberate gauging of their environment before it is returned to Rogers, the words that follow measured and tentative.
' There is concern in all of you, and there is a reason why you allowed me to come here. I suspect it has something to do with what I sensed in these lands during my travel here... Tell me, and perhaps I can be of use to you.'
