thor regards ixora with great respect. offers patience, where most times he had little to spare. he is wise, but less so in areas of healing, of science and security over battle or tactical thought. his knowledge is sparse in comparison to hers. ( if she speaks of body, soul, or both, he does not know. the current suspicion is leaning towards both. ) he knows she is not of this world, is in fact something greater and finer than a human, so complex that even he struggles to put a name to her being. so he sits back. puts his hands to his sides and nods. he’s lacking in the strength to smile – his features still gentle, soften round the edges. he reaches out, respectfully, wordlessly requesting a clasp of the hands. they meet and he holds her there, a thankful squeeze given for her reassurance. ‘you’re very wise, my lady queens. you have my thanks.’