We see three figures walking across a wasteland. The ground is barren under their feet, dry, yellow, course dirt, more like gravel than soil. There are boulders the same colour in the background. Above them, sunlight filters through a mist that blurs everything, like looking back through the mists of time.
One is a very tall old man with a hoary beard, and his hair long and past his shoulders, is the same colour. His clothes are grey and just a bit better than rags. He wears a large, floppy, pointed, brimmed hat that looks like it’s as old as he is. It shades his face, but we can just make out that he wears an eye patch over one eye. He walks as one who is determined but patient, no extra effort, no emotion in his stride. At his hip is an ornate sword that seems at odds with his dress, and he walks with the aid of a speer that’s bigger than a quarter staff. In the glint of the light, we can see what looks like runes carved in the speer head.
On his left walks a man who is also very tall, but a bit shorter than the old man. He looks much younger, and is skinny and gangly. He is blonde and pale. He is dressed in teal and blue, princely clothing. Everything is just right, in order, every hair on his head, every fold of his clothes. His black leather boots are polished to a shin. He has no beard, either clean shaven or unable to grow a beard. He obviously cares much for his appearance. He walks with a bit of a skip in his stride, and the smile on his face seems unconscious but mischievous. In his hand is a long, very narrow staff that would look like a twig if it wasn’t so large. It’s made from a light coloured wood that looks almost like blackthorn wood, and there are black runes burnt into it.
On the old man’s right walks a much bulkier man, short in comparison to the other two, but still tall. Like the thin man, his hair is blonde, though bordering on strawberry blonde in the light. Like the old man, he has a beard, matching his blonde hair. His blue eyes are fierce and dangerous. He walks with purpose, his muscles obvious even through the chain mail armour he wears. The armour appears to be made of bronze, and looks very old but well cared for, like the wearer cares as much for his armour as the thin man does for his hair. On his head is a helmet, also appearing to be bronze. It has plates that cover his ears, and a nose guard that curves around under his eyes, connecting back to his temples. It has a slight point to the top, and from the side sprout two backward facing fins or wings, giving his head almost a dragon appearance. In his hand, he carries a hammer. The handle is short, hardly large enough for the hand that holds it. The head of the hammer, though, is very large and obviously head, though its wielder doesn’t seem to use any effort to carry it. The hammer is made of iron, and is much scared from use. Faded now under the scars, runes can be made out, obviously hammered into the metal when it was still hot.
Thor (looking across Odin at Loki, an annoyed look on his face, speaks in more a grumble than anything):
Why is HE here? Why'd you bring him.
Odin (looks at Thor out of the corner of his eye and answer matter of factly):
Because he's my brother.
Blood and cup brother only, not family.
Odin (shares a smile with Loki that the audience can see but Thor can’t):
There is that.
Loki (with a smirk on his face):
Why is HE here?
Odin (trying not to smile):
It's bring your son to work day.