"I'm not good at--" But he cuts himself off there. Frigga is probably not interested in the things he doesn't think he's good at. And he is interested in how things work, but he's so new he wouldn't know where to start, and maybe astrophysics is not...the best place to start. He mulls this over some meat.
Nods and swallows. "I do want to learn things, but I should start small first. This is all..." He looks around them at this massive herb garden. He can see the gold glinting from the spires above. "...It's a lot. If I stay. Ma'am." But he's also nosy, so he can't help but ask: "Are you really gods?"
"That depends on your definition of godhood, I would think." Frigga smiles. "We Asgardians are very different from Midgardians. We live longer. We are stronger, faster, our senses are more acute." A glance at Loki, whose ears are literally burning, thanks. However, he did hear Clint shooting arrows from some distance in an otherwise noisy and crowded venue. So.
"All Asgardians are not worthy of worship by others," Frigga continues. "Some are just regular, everyday citizens. Bakers and soldiers, craftspeople and artisans. Servants. But some of us are different, unique, and singled out by the Norns to receive powers beyond the average of our world. From the moment we can articulate ourselves, we are aware of this difference, this... weight. In this, we are considered gods."
Clint takes this in, the idea of long lives, better physically, the idea of specialness bestowed on certain people. Like Loki, he guesses. And Thor. And so on.
"Would anyone even want me here? An outsider who's not gonna live so long and who doesn't have super senses? Besides Loki, I mean. I don't exactly fit in." In any sense. Does he fit in back on Earth-Midgard? Not really either. So what exactly does it matter?
"The matter of a shorter lifetime is a problem easily solved, without any pain or effort on your part. Midgardians have lived amongst us before, though it has been quite some time..." Frigga sighs, and folds her hands together in her lap. "The rest can be trained for, honestly. What does fitting in look like, for you? What would you need to feel like you belong?"
He's never really...fit in before. So he doesn't know what that looks like. Never really belonged except with his mom. So he ignores the question, valid as it is. What really perks him up is what she said first. "Wait, are you gonna make me live a long time? Who else has been here before? Are they still here? Can I meet them? How long can I live? Wouldn't that be...dangerous for me?"
no subject
Nods and swallows. "I do want to learn things, but I should start small first. This is all..." He looks around them at this massive herb garden. He can see the gold glinting from the spires above. "...It's a lot. If I stay. Ma'am." But he's also nosy, so he can't help but ask: "Are you really gods?"
no subject
"All Asgardians are not worthy of worship by others," Frigga continues. "Some are just regular, everyday citizens. Bakers and soldiers, craftspeople and artisans. Servants. But some of us are different, unique, and singled out by the Norns to receive powers beyond the average of our world. From the moment we can articulate ourselves, we are aware of this difference, this... weight. In this, we are considered gods."
no subject
"Would anyone even want me here? An outsider who's not gonna live so long and who doesn't have super senses? Besides Loki, I mean. I don't exactly fit in." In any sense. Does he fit in back on Earth-Midgard? Not really either. So what exactly does it matter?
no subject
no subject