smartass_captain

From:

Though Thor is attempting to act casual, he can't quite hide the nervous frown as he watches Stratos from behind his mug. Still, he's quick to smile and nod permission for the battlemage to work his magics.

The look on the man's face when he jerks away from the hammer, stunned as a man who's been slapped across the face, provokes a smug bark of laughter out of Thor. He smothers it quickly, of course, but he grins proudly at his old weapon, sitting placidly on the table as though it were nothing more noteworthy than a paperweight.

Everyone at this table knows better than that, of course.

Thor takes a long, seemingly uncaring swig as he watches the mage puzzle through this conundrum. The magic he uses doesn't seem that different from the seidr that the Asgardian knows, nor does the look of determined concentration setting into his brow seem terribly different from Loki tackling some mystical mystery in Asgard's libraries. It's a nostalgic pang that strikes him now, a faraway look seeping into his good eye, coming back to himself only when the table itself begins to shimmer... and goes precisely nowhere, Mjolnir's perch pinning it to the floor as securely as if it was nailed in place there.

And oh, what a relief that is to see. Thor hadn't truly thought that the Allfather's spell could be so easily hoodwinked. But he couldn't help but worry that it would, irrational though it might be.