(Over here today.)
Happy 33'rd Birthday, Clive Standen - July 22'nd, 1981
(Had a really long stressful day so I bought myself yellow roses so life is now good.)
(Open for any Loki or Gabriel)
"It wasn’t my fault!" The small boy pleaded, his voice breaking a slight as he held the cloth to his bleeding nose, suspecting it to be broken, but he didn’t care. It only ached as much, and no more, than the rest of his bruised and scraped body.
"They were hurting Hel! I wasn’t just going to let them! You told me to protect her and now suddenly I’m the one who’s done wrong!"
Loki released his light grasp on the boy’s chin after assessing the damage, placing a finger instead to his own lips to shush. And perhaps his hysteria was risen to a level regrettably visible, but for a list of good reasons. He composed the tone of his own voice. “You’re not in trouble unless your mother discovers this.”
When he would be in trouble, precisely, but he needed to provide some incentive that Fenrir not run off to Angrboda before Loki could make the story prettier than it was.
"Where’s Hel gone now? Is she alright?"
Fenrir fell silent, but only begrudgingly as he used the heel of his hand to try and wipe off the dribble of red from his grazed palm, only really resulting in making even more of a mess on the thigh of his pants.
"I don’t know…" He muttered, feeling his little chest swell with guilt as he hadn’t been able to follow her, instead taking her place to receive each blow from the warrior who seemed quite eager to take out on the trickster by harming his kin.
"She ran away. She’s probably hiding…"
Кто сделал лужу?
Локи и Фенрир (цветовой набросок)
"No. But he wants his son."
At that every muscle through Fenrir’s jaw, his throat and shoulder tensed quite suddenly, eyes alight with anger unmatched and still festering hatred for the god of lies.
"Tell him than I am not his son." He growled at Fandral, so very tempted to tear him to pieces there, but he needed someone to relay his message.
"Tyr raised me, not him. And tell him if I am to spill godly blood, his will be the first to be shed."
"I don’t like being expected to join the party." Fenrir grumbled, leaning back on his heels to look upon the shield maiden. He was only telling her because those that planned such an attack had annoyed him greatly, making him think the show would be much more entertaining if they were to be crushed by that of Asgard.
"I’m not anyone’s dog of war."
"Which is a shame because you have a pretty mean bite when you want to," she said with a smirk. She was joking of course, she knew what he meant because she didn’t always love having to follow orders without question. "You could always come and be my war puppy." She couldn’t help herself, even though she was sure that wouldn’t go down to well.
At this the god rolled his dark eyes and moved off to find his cold cup of coffee still sitting atop the messy table, asking over his shoulder if Sif were to be leaving today or tomorrow with such news, curious if she were to spend the night again as her company was rather enjoyed last time.
"Not my puppet. These are the words of The King. Much has happened in your absence. But I must insist you take me on this… It is a suggestion. Because I know that now if you went out there pillaging the golden realm, you would not be successful.
" ‘The King’?" The young god asked, brows furrowing as his features pulled into a frown, dark eyes filled with distrust. The name was unfamiliar on his tongue, but he knew anyone claiming to be a king, legitimately so or not, was bad news.
"Well tell ‘The King’, he obviously has you to do his bidding. He doesn’t need another dog."
"Do you know the power you would have? The destruction you could cause if you took Asgard down from the side lines? Made them pay for everything… They don’t know what you look like anymore. You were just a boy then."
Now this made the wolf laugh, the sound a deep tamber in his chest.
"Inciting war, now are we?" Fenrirsulfr asked, smiling wide to brandish each and every one of his massive wolf-like teeth.
"Oh warrior, I will tear Asgard down on my own terms. Find someone else to play your puppet."
"Is there a reason you stand before me, or are you offering yourself as a meal?"
"I’m too stringy." Fandral laughed at himself. "I was just… Curious… About you. Some people don’t even believe you exist anymore, you know. They’re writing you off as a myth yourself."
The wolf grasped for a shirt as he rose to his feet, eying Fandral with annoyance if anything.
"Well than maybe you ought to remind them I am very much alive and hungry for their blood."
"Why remind them?" Fandral quirked a brow. "Do they still come in to make sure you are fed?"
"I feed myself." Fenrir corrected him, pulling the shirt over his head as he came to stand with the warrior.
"And I will remind them because it is amusing to watch them fear it. Now what are you curious about?”