A flash of brilliant light filled the skies in a jagged streak of branching electricity that carved toward the earth with curled fingers. For a split second all was illuminated. Pitch black was broken by blazing power. Every leaf, blade of grass, and raindrop was trapped within an instance of almost daylight, deafening thunder shaking the valley, before darkness washed over the night once more.
Rain was falling in thick sheets so heavy they were a near solid wall, slanted by the force of the wind tearing at the landscape. Fenrir walked unperturbed through the onslaught. There were few things he enjoyed more than a storm, particularly a virtual tempest that was destructive in its cleansing.
Water pelted hard on the hood drawn over his head and the overcoat covering his wide frame. It splashed under his boots, the muddy water whose levels were rising the longer the storm roared on. A warm glow shone closer with his every step, illuminated windows declaring that someone was home. He knew she would be. He’d have lingered until she returned if she hadn’t been.
Another flare of lightning cut across the sky. Thunder boomed in declaration not seconds after. Fenrir didn’t bother with knocking, never did, just tested the knob to find it locked. Deciding to also test Raven’s security measures while he was at it, he kicked the door in with his boot so hard the thing could’ve flung entirely off of its hinges. Perfect timing had lightning streaking across the stormy night sky behind him.
Pushing the hood from his head as he entered her home, Fenrir shook out the wet strands of his hair as he grumbled, “Your door needs better reinforcement.” He kicked his boots on the mat at the door, not doing much to dislodge the mud that clung to them. Hand closing on the edge of the door he returned it to the frame, blocking out the night’s storm once more.
Fenrir strode over to where Raven kept her alcohol and grabbed the bottle of fire whisky. The amber liquid poured into one glass then a second, which he pushed with the back of his hand down the counter for Raven to take. He lifted his own glass to his mouth and downed the first serving like a shot before pouring himself another.
Glass in hand, he twisted his head on his neck until the tell tale pop sounded, tension bursting from his vertebrae. His shoulders rolled and a heavy exhale poured from his nostrils. Narrow hazel eyes flickered over his Second’s home, inspecting the other points of entry. The thought of someone other than him breaking into her space uninvited made his hackles rise.
He turned to face the deceptively petite female, watching her as he raised his glass to his mouth for another taste of the whisky within. Silence joined them, broken only by the storm outside.
