Ragnar awoke with a start, not because of any bad dreams but of the scents hitting his nose like a punch from a power fist, but far far far more pleasant. A melange of scents his brain was rapidly identifying, whilst the names were still a bit unfamiliar to him he could smell sausages, bacon and some kind of bird that smelled awefully like a Fenrisian Mountain Grouse.

It took a heartbeat to let his eyes adjust to the pitch black of his cell before he slid out of his bed. That itself was still something he was getting use to in part. Use to a solid slab of mountain granite covered in a pelt the soft and springy bed had surprised him at first, just not use to the luxury of having something to lay on that yielded to you. The blankets were also new, whilst he in essence didn’t need them due to the alterations made to his body making him near immune to cold temperatures Ragnar had to admit that being able to drape a blanket over him felt good. Combined with the pillows Rangar found himself in the habit of curling up in a mass of sheets and pillows. Totally not a nest or den..okay…maybe a bit.

Adapting to not really having a schedule had been challenging, the Marine still busied himself in the morning either going for runs round the facilities grounds or going to the danger room most of the time but it felt ‘strange’ to have free time. But thoughts of going to the Danger Room or going for a run were firmly banished from Ragnar’s head, he could smell delicious food and that became the overriding matter for the Marine.

Pulling some jogging pants on and a T-shirt that still felt a bit too small the Marine padded downstairs, literally following his nose.

Victor was padding round the mansion mainly following the dictates of his growling stomach. Remembering to pull some pants on he'd padded downstairs and followed his nose, not needing to turn the lights on. He didn't know what time it was, the moon was shrouded behind clouds and he'd left his watch upstairs.

He stopped only to bend down and scratch idilly at the skin that was being rubbed by the tracking and tracing bracelet round his right ankle. It reported his location to the Mansion's computer and was wearing it as an act of faith, he knew that in reality most folks round here would trust him as far as they could throw a black hole and he didn't blame them. At times he didn't trust himself, waking up snarling at things that were not there, pillows and sheets shredded.

Shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind where they belonged Victor walked into the kitchen, his head tilted eyes closed for a moment, the big feral's breathing coming in loud huffs as he breathed in for a moment sampling the scents of the kitchen from the lemon detergent used to clean the sink to the apples in a bowl and the meat in the fridge.

Grinning slightly Victor muttered "Pay dirt.." to himself as he opened the fridge, reaching for a plate he started getting a late night..early morning snack.

The Asgardian's teeth tore through the flesh of the boar with relish; the crispy fat crunched as his incisors plunged into the flame-roasted tissue. The rich, meaty flavor danced across his tongue and jumped at the roof of his mouth. Thor groaned with contentment as he grinned at the feral.

He remembered their earlier hunt; there was no true danger or even challenge, yet that was not the point of this. The Asgardian had grabbed the beast, but left Victor the killing blow; he remembered that the taller man made it quick and painless for the boar. One lethal talon straight into the brain had terminated the life of their meal.

On Asgard he had sat around the fire with Hogun, Volstagg, Sif and Fandral as they had shared the meat of many beasts. He recalled the deep sense of contentment of those occasions; meat in his belly and his comrades in his presence. The warmth of the fire was nothing compared to the warmth of the bond shared between them. They all shared each other's beds eventually.

And Thor would be lying through his teeth if he claimed he didn't want to bed Victor. The tall, incredibly muscular mutant had always been handsome, yet now the man's worthiness had been established and proven beyond any possible contest. The other version of him may be a beast, but they are not alike.

Both of them sat around the fire in the woods; Thor then placed his arm over the larger blond's shoulders. He looked into Victor's golden eyes again; his grin had softened into a warm smile.
"After we hath finished this meal, I wish to make you my shield brother officially, Victor," he said in an eloquent tone underlaid with an affectionate rumble. He had not yet stated exactly what that process necessarily implied, but he had an idea that the feral had at least a vague suspicion.

At first sight, it was hard to believe he managed to avoid showing up on any US radar.

The thunderer streaked through the sky; Mjolnir was clutched in his outstretched right arm. Seemingly without very much effort, one very large barrel and one more medium-sized barrel, both wrapped in a net of thick ropes, were being held aloft by his left arm.

He landed on the thick lawn of the institute moments later, freed the barrels from their confines and then hoisted the larger one over his shoulder with seemingly no effort. The smaller barrel was tucked beneath his right arm, and his hammer remained in the grip of his right hand.

With a grin as sunny as the day outside, he strode through the door. His biceps bulged impressively as gently lowered the wooden vessels onto the polished marble floor.
"Victor!" He announced enthusiastically in a voice that bounced off the walls, "I hath the mead! And the scrumpy! Let us drink!"
'Tis party time, as the Midgardians would say!

[OOC: For viccreed]

So...it seems that thanks to being asleep in a sound proof room Victor had missed all the 'action' of having the lower levels flooded out by some accident with Clarice. After putting on the tracking bracelet he'd learned fuck all about it from Logan and was left to his own devices to figure out what had caused the flash flood.
Victor actually felt a bit bad he'd missed the action, at least it would have given him a chance to talk with Clarice who seemed like a nice girl even if she wasn't his and to see if she was okay. Bored and with everything drying out the feral found himself padding outside towards a distant lake that was still on the grounds. The sun on his arms and hair made Victor smile, all be it toothily, without realising it. He'd only stopped to partially re-attach one of the double doors leading outside, using the tip of a claw as a screwdriver to put the door more level.

Breaking into a jog it didn't take long to get close to the lake, he wasn't going swimming, like his feline code name Victor didn't really like swimming, bathing fine, but if he went to a beach (not that he'd done such a thing for as long as he could remember) he'd be content to sit on the sand rather than spend ages getting wet. The glint of scales and movement beneath the water did provoke something else, calmer and more controlled as he was there was still a desire to hunt, a desire that would never go away. He knew there as deer on the grounds and would track one down and kill it for Remy to cook, bringing it down the good old fashioned way. There was no deer, but what appeared to be plentiful trout, he didn't have a rod but there was other ways to fish.

Tugging his top off before kicking his boots and socks to one side the feral slowly got into the water, moving slowly to just before where he assumed it got deeper and he'd have to swim. The movement naturally startled the fish, scaring them away but he could wait. He was a patient hunter.

Ignoring the cool water round his thighs and the mud oozing between his toes Victor watched the rippling surface of the water, a hand raised, fingers hooked as if to strike but he kept his claws retracted as far as they would go. No need for them here. All he had to do was wait for a fish to come close enough for him to strike. He'd done this years, decades ago and he remembered that it was one of the few things that even at his worst, brought him a measure of peace.
But..there was a down side to this amount of focus. Like a big cat he was focused entirely on what he was doing, all his senses directed towards the water. Anyone could have come up to him and he'd not have noticed until they were right upon him.

Finally having cleaned himself, Logan once again stalked through the halls with a new tracking anklet in his grip. His knuckles were white as he followed the scent of the new Victor.

This'll be a real test he thought as he imagined how their other Victor fought wildly at the first sight of the healing cell. He knew that any Victor would resent this.

But he also knew that if this Victor weren't lying, this Victor would understand the necessity of such a temporary precaution. If he truly hates what he was... he won't blame me fer hatin' that too.

And he knew that once, he was such a danger to others; there were times he feared he'd wake up with the blood of Jean or Ororo or Remy or Scott or sometimes even Jubilation coating his claws and dripping down his palms.

I ain't gonna let a psycho get tha drop on me. I ain't gonna let an animal slice up my friends.

And so his footfalls landed steadily as he tracked down the mansion's newest resident.
[OOC: for Viccreed]

Victor Creed yawned slightly as he woke up, four hours of sleep was all he needed thanks to his regenerative healng but this morning was different. There was a taste in his mouth that could best be described as 'metallic' and his head felt slightly groggy.
Acting on autopilot the big feral kicked his sheets off and stomped into the bathroom, stopping only to scratch his ass.

"Maybe a shower will clear my head..." He mumbled to his reflection in the mirror before doing just that, having himself a shower for a few minutes. At times he regretted coming to the Xavier institute, it was a cage, a gilded one but a cage none the less and he loathed being caged up. Still, the showers were a one up from what he had lived with before.

Half shaking and towling himself dry, his long blond hair combed back before it fell over his face again he still could not get the metallic taste out of his fanged mouth. 'Fuckin' psych stuff with the Professors done this to me...have ta say later' the blond mused as he pulled on some jeans and a shirt that still fit him.

Stepping out of his room Victor immediately knew something had changed, he knew the Institute intimately well thanks to his sense of smell and suddenly there was new scents, different ones, Even the hallway smelled of a different cleaning fluid.

"The fucks going on?" Victor asked to no one in particular as he started padding down the hallway.