Rolling 1d100: 34
Scratch that. The end of the world was hot.
Fenrir straightened, clearing his throat audibly. What pretty little creature was this, strolling up like a - shit, did he look scruffy? He licked the back of his forepaw and used it to try and smooth down some of the errant fur sticking up around his head, although it was hard to say whether or not he was successful.
But boy, he felt good.
A smarmy grin laced his expression as he sidled forward. She was a charming thing, he thought, draped in dreamy tones of vanilla and cream - a perfect little sweet treat - and the closer he drew, the greater the flame's affect on his ability to think.
And I've missed you,Fenrir purred, dropping his voice an octave for emphasis on the raw, muscular, throbbing masculinity he presented her with. She couldn't help but be overwhelmed by his presence; after all, he was the most attractive of all Týr's sons.
(Meanwhile, the parasite's spores were burrowing deeply into his brain.)
So... you local?he asked.
Me, I'm from Storm's Reach. It's real tough up there. Maelstroms, lashing waves, bitter winds...
He rolled his shoulders.
Yeah. Nothing I can't handle though. I'm just passing through, seeing more of the world, embracing my sense of adventure... fulfilling my destiny.Fenrir swiped his tongue across his maw, trying to look rugged and positively bursting with divine prophetic potential.
You know. Man stuff.
![[Image: KqoUDf8.png]](https://i.imgur.com/KqoUDf8.png)
Signature by Viktor <3
