[ if there's one place thor visits more frequently than steve's bedchamber, it is the stasis units. perhaps more often than he'd like to admit, he finds himself here, standing in front of one particular pod: the one housing his brother, in a sleep he isn't sure what to call. the odinsleep? or is it the thorsleep now that odin is gone and he's king? (he vaguely recalls someone calling it cryosleep, and wonders why he had never heard of this cryo before.) possibly, it's neither, and loki remains suspended by some other form of magic until such time he deems it worthy to return. and, knowing loki, prolonging that return has always been more satisfying than the return itself, all the better to play thor's heartstrings like a well-tuned instrument. ]

[ at least, he thinks, loki is alive. at least, he thinks, he has one piece of home left. at least, he thinks, he isn't doomed to walk this realm as the last of the asgardians. ]

[ it's the middle of the night, sleep nothing but a distant notion. was ragnarok but a precursor to this storm that ravages realms? was he always meant to end up in this place? what connection does all of this have to larger hands at play? there are few answers to be found, and even less peace. it helps, sometimes, to be here, surrounded by the faint mechanical hum of the pods and the faces of those not yet awoken. they may not all be asgardian, but he still feels some obligation to protect them, just as he swore to protect the people of midgard so long ago. ]

[ he turns at the sound of footsteps, and a small smile graces his lips at the sight of steve coming toward him. he doesn't say anything yet; this ritual of sorts has been going on long enough that it doesn't require explanation, and steve knows well enough by now that thor is not always a man of many words. ]