Head vs. Heart

March 23, 2014:

Thor comes to realize that sometimes logic and desire don't always mesh.

Royal Garden - Asgard

A lovely garden within the palace grounds.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Asgard is home to not only the Aesir but some lovely locations, one of which being a large garden that dominates a section of the palace grounds. It is in bloom continuously thanks to the magic of this realm, the colors and sweet floral scents something they do not need to be without, that being a fact Amora finds herself grateful for, especially this early morning.

Dressed in a light dressing gown of green and a matching robe, the sorceress has padded down from her room on bare feet, her hair mussed as if she had been asleep. A bench that sits across from a bush that bears pink and yellow blossoms on their branches as well as deep green leaves is where she sits, the flowers enjoyed as she loses herself to thought.

Thor descends cautiously into the garden, watching his step. The big man is out of place here- the God of Thunder, a living embodiment of destruction, does not belong where the soft, gentle things grow and thrive. But he had spotted Amora leaving her room and hurried along after her with quick steps, trying to catch up without appearing to be running.

"m'Lady?" he calls in a quiet rumble, stopping a few paces on the steps down into the garden. He pauses there, as if unsure if he should enter. "Do you have a few moments?" he asks, glancing around the immediate area.

A soft gasp is given and Amora's hands reach up quickly to clasp her robe close, her eyes wide for a moment. It takes a few seconds before she realizes it is him and she blushes, her hands returning to where they were sitting upon her lap. The low light conceals the faint coloring upon her cheeks, or so she hopes.

"Of course you may," she eventually says once she more fully recovers. Room around the bench is made for him. "What is on your mind, my Prince?"

Thor comes down the steps heavily, walking along the path with careful steps. The acuteness of his discomfort is apparent to anyone. Thor is at home in the wild woods or the singing plains, not this soft place full of flowers and gentle things.

He settles his weight awkwardly onto the bench, then rests his elbows on his knees, considering his words with a care uncharacteristic of him. "I was wondering… why you kissed me during our voyage those days recent," he says, his tone pensive. "It was… a surprise, to say little of it."

Ah. That. The kiss. Like Thor, Amora considers her words carefully before anything is said on the subject, her eyes lingering on him when she finally speaks. "Because it felt like it was the right thing to do." There is a quiet chuckle, a light laugh that sounds almost like it is a breathy exhale instead. "And I've been wanting to," she adds.

Her hand closest to his reaches out to pat his arm, her playful expression now worry. "If you'd rather that were to never happen again I will refrain, however." As hard as it will be.

"I…" The expression on his face is one of befuddlement. "I do not know," he admits. "'tis a most confusing subject," he admits with a slight grin. "Thousands of years we've known one another, and only of late have you caught my eye this way. For long years, I had but one woman in my life; then, Sif, and she and I rode the stars together," he explains to Amora, rubbing his palms on his thighs as he sits upright. "And now you come to me with breathy words and full lips, and I find myself unsure of what to do next."

Thor's confession has Amora nodding, having expected some of it in the form of his mentioning Sif and their being… close as well. "I understand. We've been friends for so long, you and I, but I will not lie. I believe I may be seeing you in the same manner." Her hand is moved, pulled away so she won't invade his personal space any more than she already has. "I won't pressure you. It'd be unfair of me, Thor." She glances at him, leaning forward slightly to do so.

"You and Sif, more alike than you know," Thor says, rubbing the back of his neck. "She said much the same-" he breaks off, considering, then shakes his head. "Odd. She had much the same to say, but I think she was speaking of being one of the Companions. I wondered if her heart was along another path, and she would speak not of it. I was puzzled, for I could not understand what else she could want in life but to ride into battle among dear friends."

"Do I confuse you, Thor?" Amora doesn't think she does, not when she tries to be open with him as much as she possibly can, but she knows sometimes subjects are not very easily grasped no matter how much she might like for them to be. "If I do, I apologize and would like to find a way to clear things up, if need be." A strand of hair gets caught in a faint breeze, causing it to tickle her neck.

"Aye," Thor says, rising to his feet. "You confound me. I … do not wish to reject you," Thor says, finally, resting his hands on a balcony. "But I have been naught but a warrior my life entire. Given myself over to hammer and the art of war. None have been as close to me as my left hand, my Shieldmaiden, and… yet I find a thing here I have not felt before," he says, glancing over his shoulder at Amora. "And I wonder what this new compulsion is."

It is only a second before Amora rushes to stand and follows him, the pace in which she walks towards Thor only marginally slower. When he looks at her he'll find her perhaps half way to the balcony, her expression warm. "Sometimes we logically think that we will fall for one who compliments us. Who is a mirror image of who and what we are. But sometimes…" She stands beside him now and seeks to move him, trying to turn him so he'll face her so she can place her right hand upon his chest, palm over his heart. "I believe the mortals call it a case of opposites becoming attracted." Head bowing minutely, she thinks for a few seconds, quiet, before she looks at him through her lashes. "You and Sif are truly cut from the same bolt of cloth, my Prince. Warriors through and through. Strong of body, personality and spirit, fierce protectors and loyal… not that I am not loyal. I do think I've proven myself to be such over the thousands of years you and I've known each other."

Amora turns, looking out over the balcony's rail, her smile softening. "But perhaps your heart is longing for someone who can calm you when the storms within you rage. Who can be a gentle yet strong presence for you when the weight of the Nine Realms weigh heavy upon your shoulders. Someone who can love you for more than your physical prowess…"

At that last she turns her head slightly so she can look at him from out of the corner of her eye. "If you do not wish to refuse me then don't, Thor."

"I … I." Thor seems utterly entranced, unsure of what to do. He reaches for Amora's hand, timorously, and then turns the woman to face him. He reaches up and catches her cheek in his rough palm, examining her face, then, haltingly, leans down to kiss her, the motion tentative. His eyes lid, then he starts to lean into the embrace, one hand slipping around Amora's waist and pulling her into him as the kiss becomes more ardent.

Suddenly, Thor's eyes flutter open and he breaks away with two quick steps, bumping into the balustrade awkwardly. "Er. Your pardon, m'Lady, that was… uh, very, inappropriate," he says. Thor is floundering, here, clearly out of his depth. "Pardon me for my advances, that was… I meant no disrespect."

Thor will find himself able to pull the woman to him, there being no resistance from Amora who is as much under his metaphorical spell as he is hers. Her face heats under his touch, cheeks gone a lovely shade of pink, her blush lending a bit of innocence to her. The blush deepens when she feels his lips against hers, the kiss on her part almost shy but then he deepens it and she finds herself emboldened. Her hands hold to his shoulders as if afraid of falling, the excitement causing her legs to tremble so hard that she fears falling.

When Thor pulls away and starts his retreat she is moving towards him again, her head shaken emphatically. "I take no disrespect, my Prince. Please… do not act as if you've done wrong by such boldness. I rather you allow yourself to be such with me than to act the timid boy." Her left hand is held out, offered to his. "Please, Thor. Do not pull away from these arms that are held open to you."

"I am no boy!" Thor says with a sudden, angry scowl. "I… am simply confused." He sighs and holds a weary hand to his brow. "Give me… give me time. I need time to think. Please," he asks Amora, his booming voice low and subdued. "I mean no disrespect. I merely need to consider what I am doing- not just for my desires, but for Asgard as well. If I am a Prince, I cannot put my wants ahead of our people, however much I may desire to do so."

"…I am sorry, m'Lady. I take my leave of you," he says, with a short and polite bow. He turns to go, then looks over his shoulder at Amora. "I will speak with you again. Soon," he promises the woman, a flickering smile crossing his face.

The anger rattles the woman and she looks down and away for a moment, finding herself having to hide the tears that his reaction cause to well in them. "I understand, my Prince. I apologize." One tear gets the better of her and runs down her cheek, allowed to do so only to then dry upon her face. When she's able to look up again it's in time for her to catch Thor's smile, fleeting as it is, and she manages one of her own for him. "You'll know where to find me, my love."

The Thunder God is allowed to exit the garden first before she retires herself, suddenly finding herself wishing for seclusion.

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