Whatever ground he gains by kicking his legs, he loses just as quickly, not quite sinking, but not getting any closer to the surface, either. Trying to move laterally instead, he makes a little more progress, but his movements are clumsy in the water, uncontrolled. This is far from his most comfortable habitat, far more graceful in the air. Hitting a rock with the back of his hand, he wedges his fingers into a crack in what he realizes belatedly is part of a larger formation, a wall. Relying on his strength rather than his ability to swim, he pulls himself upward, fighting against the weight of his clothes (he might have unhooked the cape, at least, he realizes, but this is better, faster). When at last he breaks the surface, he sucks in a gasping breath, his mane of blond hair smoothed back against his head, and his irises looking particularly blue against the whites of his eyes, gone red from keeping them open in the water.
There's a woman looming over him at the rock's edge, beautiful and as wet as she is nearly naked. Thor averts his gaze, unsure if she meant to be seen in such a state of undress, and he looks beyond her to his newfound surroundings, confusion reading clear on his face. Loki is nowhere to be found and Mjolnir has yet to show itself.
The waters part, revealing the face of a very wet, confused - and handsome, good lord - man. Brooke tsks, making the split decision to grab her towel and drop it at the edge of the pool. With all that sodden hair in his face, he looks like he'll be needing it even more than she does.
"Tabula Rasa," she says, wrapping her sarong around her waist. "It's a magic island, and - " Her eyes widen at the sight of his shoulders beneath the surface of the water. His eyes don't hold the sort of cruelty she'd expect from a man willing to threaten an unarmed woman, but he's huge, and Brooke prefers to err on the side of not having her ass handed to her. "It's totally not my fault."
Humans don't put much faith in magic anymore, at least none of the ones Thor's met recently. That the woman refers to this place as magic is of interest, then, even if it prompts more questions than it necessarily answers, especially with her claim of innocence. The towel he leaves where it is for the time being, wanting to get out of the water before he attempts to dry himself. Managing to secure a foothold underneath the water, he pushes his body upwards, one knee landing hard on the rock's edge as he emerges entirely, his cape dragging behind him.
"Sort of?" It's the best Brooke can offer him, unfortunately. "The best explanation I've heard is it's an alternate reality. People come and go, but no one ever does it on purpose." She waves her hands, at a loss to provide him better explanation. "Magic...crap. Um."
Brooke can't help herself a small step backwards when he begins pulling himself out of the pool. That he's big doesn't begin to cover it, she needs more...elephantine adjectives. "Are you okay? You hit the water like a canonball."
There's a woman looming over him at the rock's edge, beautiful and as wet as she is nearly naked. Thor averts his gaze, unsure if she meant to be seen in such a state of undress, and he looks beyond her to his newfound surroundings, confusion reading clear on his face. Loki is nowhere to be found and Mjolnir has yet to show itself.
"Where am I?"
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"Tabula Rasa," she says, wrapping her sarong around her waist. "It's a magic island, and - " Her eyes widen at the sight of his shoulders beneath the surface of the water. His eyes don't hold the sort of cruelty she'd expect from a man willing to threaten an unarmed woman, but he's huge, and Brooke prefers to err on the side of not having her ass handed to her. "It's totally not my fault."
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"Are we on Earth?"
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Brooke can't help herself a small step backwards when he begins pulling himself out of the pool. That he's big doesn't begin to cover it, she needs more...elephantine adjectives. "Are you okay? You hit the water like a canonball."
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