Hissing viciously the God bared his teeth. He wanted to lash out, he wanted to scream and drive a knife into the mans stomach and gut him, staining the plain grey floor with colourful red puddles. He wanted most of all to tear all his hair out and scream to the Norns. He knew none of this made any sense, he felt as if his linear path had been blocked in so many places that it ceased to be so. His path was full of strange turns and emotional outbursts; it was infuriating. He felt like locking himself in a room and screaming, the chaos in his head literally burned his eyes. Putting his hands into his hair he dug his fingernails deep into his scalp, drawing blood.
Dragging his hands down his face, smearing it with blood, like war paint. He left them there, like if he could just not look at the man the world would stand still and he could block everything out.