Baldr, in the peaceful bliss of the spectral rift between Helheim and reality, had been dozing. It was calmer, there, in the divide, with the sounds of Loki’s world a distant thing this far up in the roof space, and the realm of the dead barely audible with it’s endless droning ghouls and Garm’s mad barking at every new soul to pass.
The once-god was making up for lost sleep.
Only to be startled away by Thor’s voice, a regular sound now, yelling into thin air.
The vaettr found himself tumbling through the floor in shock, disbelieving that Thor even knew of his existence, let alone trying to talk to him. The spirit caught himself halfway in the room, ‘least he plunge downwards into the foundations and the earth beneath. There, as expected, his brother stood, amidst the empty room and waiting for… something?
Brother? a hush came, like a far off wind, yet so very close to Thor’s ear.