"Father," it's hardly audible, a word uttered through the gurgling snarl of a beast, and yet it holds no fire, no harshness even still. Burbling forth between bloodstained jaws and wicked, silver, teeth, parting ever more as saliva and gore drooled the floor and hackles prickled in vicious defense. Anyone who knew Fenrir, knew him not to be the monster to be seen without, but as he stood, staining the loungeroom floor with his filth, the wolf could only hope now Loki would see past that too.
Disgust filled the tricksters features at the sight of the gaping maw dripping with gore, his nose pulling up as the stench filled the room and his stomach churned. The scent of blood he could handle, but the sight of it, and the mixed in with the scent of wolf’s breath and saliva was enough to make him want to regurgitate the meals he’d eaten in the past day. His eyes slowly move from the wolfs monstrous jaw to the floor where the dripping contents created a pool of filth. "I’ve told you to keep your bloody maw outside.“ He growls back, ready to put a collar and chains on his own son to keep him from coming inside until he learned to clean himself after a kill. “After all this time, you come back, covered in the entrails of someone, seeking my help?” With a snicker, he approaches the wolf, avoiding the filth so he would not ruin his boots. “Who was it?” He asks, his empathy for both wolf and victim pushed aside in his curiosity. Resting his hand on the top of Fenrir’s head, he begins to pet the wolf to calm him long enough to hear what he has to say before tossing him outside to clean himself off.
