Sunday, April 15, 2012
Who: Holt/Bragi and Eric/Fenrir When: Sunday night Where: outside NYP What: Holt is leaving work and runs into someone he’d rather not.
It had been a stressful weekend. So very fucking stressful. Holt was avoiding Molly and Quinn out of fear that being near them might put them in danger. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Fenrir came for him, or Bragi, or both. If Quinn was with him at the time? Holt would never forgive himself.
But he managed to keep his head mostly clear when he was working. He could focus when necessary. He’d not had too many difficult cases today, which was actually a disappointment, because the difficult cases required more of his attention, and allowed him to forget his problems for a bit. He’d not been so lucky.
Regardless, as he left the hospital and headed for the garage down the street where he parked his bike, his thoughts turned to all the shit with the Norse again. That’s why, when he first sensed something off about his surroundings, he figured it was just his paranoia getting the best of him.
---
Contrary to popular belief, Fenrir was not on the hunt for all the Norse immediately. He wanted justice for what had been done to him, as it was far more than revenge in his mind. What they had done with him was enough to make anyone bitter. It was enough to make both he and his vessel hate them all, though the two had nearly merged at this point. So when he was out around the hospital, it was not to actively stalk the others. He’d taken to disappearing from Loki’s house to these long walks around the city. There was still something that he was looking for, even having found his family as they were.
But when he caught the whiff of something in the air that was not one of the mortals, Fenrir would pause from his walk and sniff the air in a way that was not entirely human. Lucky for him, he was in New York City and such behavior was never considered odd or out of place. New Yorkers had seen everything. Well, almost everything. Maybe not everything that Fenrir had to show them when he was angry enough. Maybe they would be spared that for this afternoon. Or, as he sniffed once again and turned his gaze to find the source of it, maybe not.
His nose was not good enough to differentiate among those in his pantheon. But this was familiar. Not Odin. He was sure of that. He spotted the unfamiliar man in the crowd and his eyes narrowed slightly. Norse. But who?
--
Holt dug through his backpack to find his keys, and once he’d located them, he threw the bag on. He wanted to get home and try to sleep. He missed his daughter, but he couldn’t visit her. So the best he could do was try to take care of himself so he was ready for whatever might come his way. He just didn’t realize it might come for him now while he was distracted and tired.
It was Bragi who sensed danger first. He got Holt’s attention, and once he did, Holt spun around. Bragi didn’t speak up often, not unless it was important. Holt trusted the god completely.
There weren’t a ton of people close at hand, so it wasn’t hard to spot the large man staring him down. Shit. Bragi could tell immediately from the glare that it was Fenrir. He urged Holt to leave immediately but not run. Running would be bad.
Holt did as instructed, he turned back around and continued walking, although somewhat faster, toward the garage. His keys were gripped so tightly in his hand that they nearly cut through his fingers and palm.
---
Running was always a bad plan when you were facing down a predator.
When Fenrir locked eyes with the man, there was a certain level of recognition that passed between them. He might not have known Holt and Bragi for who they were but he recognized the Aesir when he saw one. And with that came the scent of ink on paper, weirdly vivid even though he was passed him only on the sidewalk. Recognized the look that knew that Holt saw who he was as well. Why else would he bolt at the sight of another god-soul (though he wasn’t one of those, not really) unless he were? It was easy enough to aggravate the instinct to chase, even if he weren’t running. He was moving quickly in the opposite direction.
There was a low growl, deep in his throat, as the other turned his back and walked off.
Long legs made it easy for the other to cross the sidewalk and take off after Holt, though he didn’t break from the quickly moving stride of his own. Not running just yet but definitely chasing after him.
---
Fight or flight. Strong instincts. Honestly, Holt was more of the fighting sort, but not in this situation. Bragi’s memories and words of warning were enough to knock sense into Holt. It was for his own good and the good of everyone else that he get away from Fenrir right now. The wolf had rejected their offer. He wasn’t willing to accept a sacrifice in exchange for the safety of everyone else. So Holt’s life would be wasted for nothing. If he died, he couldn’t protect anyone.
But he wouldn’t run. He couldn’t. Though the urge was so very strong as he heard Fenrir gaining on him. He wasn’t going to make it to the garage at this pace. He had to confront Fenrir. Try to talk him out of this.
Holt spun around and stood his ground. “This isn’t the time or place,” he declared. He was scared, but he tried not to let it show too much. Fenrir was in human form, and while he was a big guy, Holt was too. And Holt was strong for a human. He knew how to fight. He could defend himself against another human.
---
It didn’t stop just because Holt might have made the decision to stop himself. Unfortunately, life was never that easy, especially when dealing with the gods. His own instincts were just as finely honed and the wolf was far stronger when it came with pushing the idea that fight came first. Fight always came first with the beast. He was a monster, after all. And hadn’t he told them that it was time he acted like one? It was what they all expected of him. What Odin and his ilk wanted.
When Holt stopped and whirled around, it only put him nearly nose to nose with the other man. Eric was just as tall as him and that much broader all over. He was a very difficult man to intimidate just because he was this big. More than that, he was a fighter. He’d been trained for six years to kill and he was very, very good at it. As all marines were. Combined with his uncanny instincts about battle and the ability to shapeshift when he grew angry or too overwhelmed with emotion, he was a threat even without the giant teeth or sprouting fur.
“It’s as good as any.” He sniffed again, glaring at the man in front of him. “Bragi.”
---
“I’m Holt,” the doctor insisted, keeping his feet firmly planted, his arms at his sides. “Bragi and I communicate, but we are not the same. You need to remember that. You need to remember that I’ve only been alive a few decades and have no involvement in your war or family feud or whatever. I wasn’t there when they bound you. I wouldn’t have done that. I’m a doctor. I believe in saving lives, not destroying them.”
He needed to find a way to talk Fenrir down, because even if Holt escaped with his life tonight, he would just end up in this same position eventually. If he could reason with Fenrir, make the wolf see that this wouldn’t end well for anyone, maybe they could move past the past. “I’m not a bad person, Fenrir. I love my family and look out for their well being.”
---
Talking down to a half-feral wolf creature was probably not going to end well, even if the ideas he was voicing were logical. Logic wasn’t something he was willing to hear from anyone related to the Norse pantheon or beyond it. Fenrir was far too displeased and far beyond calling a truce without some form of compensation for the things that had happened not only to him but to his family. The Aesir had ruined too many lives. Hell, all the gods had. What did they deserve new lives now? “Did I ask you for any of that, Holt?”
He was surprisingly calm about this, though his stance was certainly aggressive. His voice was not as rough as one might expect, though it certainly wasn’t friendly. He wasn’t turning around to back down, either. “I don’t care what kind of person you are.” Blunt but entirely true. He obviously did not give a shit about what Holt was or was not - other than the fact that he housed one of the Norse. “You came to me with threats.”
He’d made himself a target the same way that Odin had, by drawing attention to himself and antagonizing the wolf. Maybe Holt could have reasoned with Eric but the human agreed that the idea of the gods was bullshit, especially given his own nightmares from Fenrir’s past. “You can’t protect Bragi or the rest of your family.” That came with more of a growl in his voice beneath the low, softer voice. “You brought this to your own doorstep.”
--
“Because I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared for my family. Wouldn’t you do the same for yours? If they were in danger.. you’d fight. That’s all I care about. I told you, you can have me if it will end with me. Nothing else matters but my family’s safety. Please leave them be.” He was begging now, because he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t reason with the wolf. He couldn’t threaten the wolf to get him to back down. All he had left was a plea.
“Just take me. My life for the one you lost. It’s a fair trade.” And the debt would be settled. “Odin took you from your father.. you can take me from mine. Nothing would cause him greater pain than losing Bragi.” Holt hoped to appeal to Fenrir’s thirst for revenge. It was true, Odin would grieve for a long time over the death of another son.
---
“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, tired of the melodramatics already. It was the same thing. They were all different now. All of them were mortal and had learned their lessons. Fenrir didn’t believe that for a moment. He found the whole thing to be nothing more than excuses and shit to be replayed over and over again. “I never had a family thanks to yours. Yours ruined my father. My sister and brother.”
Begging wouldn’t do much for the animal side of him, especially as he simply took another step forward. It was a gesture meant to intimidate and make the other back down. Run so that he could chase. Or fight so that he could stop holding back.
“Why would I take your life when I could ruin it?” The man shook his head, knowing that better than even the wolf could. Had it been up to fenrir, he might have killed them all and been done with it. But Eric was smarter than that. “Even death was taken from me. Why should I give it to you? Odin will suffer the loss of a child but why would he be the only one?”
---
Holt really really REALLY wanted to run, but he continued to stand his ground. There was no other option. No safer option. Fenrir hadn’t ripped his throat out yet, which meant he was listening despite his demand that Holt shut up.
Although, Holt did stop talking. Bragi didn’t know if his powers of persuasion would work in this mortal body, but it was worth a try. He requested permission and when he received it, everything about the vessel softened. His eyes were much warmer and inviting. “He would not be the only one. For I am also the son of Frigg, and Holton is the brother of Emmy. You would have ample revenge, Fenrir Lokison. Take us and be sated. Quench your thirst for blood. We are a worthy sacrifice and have much to lose ourselves in making this offer. Wives will grieve, a daughter will suffer. Is our pain not enough? What more can you ask? For you will run out of Aesir. When you do, what is left?”
---
Bragi’s powers of persuasion were something far beyond the ability of Eric to withstand. The human faltered, considering the idea and the death of the human. He would send a message, leaving his pantheon in turmoil. Loki wouldn’t like it. Loki didn’t like any of his plans, though Fenrir didn’t understand why. Hadn’t his father killed Baldr? What had changed since then? Eric was watching him though, dark eyes riveted on his face intently. “Killing you will caused suffering.”
But the wolf was not satisfied. Fenrir stepped forward again, this time planting his forearm against the man’s chest and then shoving the vessel and god within back . It was another show of aggression and definitely a sign that the wolf was going to lose his temper soon. Even he wasn’t close already. “Coward.”
But what would he do after that? What purpose did killing things have? If he killed Odin and brought about the end, what would that mean for his family? If he could destroy the All Father instead, it would allow his family to live. But Fates were there for a reason. “Then I fade, knowing that you’re all gone.”
--
“Yes,” Bragi said softly, but then he was shoved by the wolf. He stumbled back but stood straight again when he was able. “Again, yes. I am a coward. My mother disowned me for it. When I refused to fight your father. I would not bear arms against him, and I was cast aside because of my refusal. He brought about my brother’s end and nearly cost me my beloved, Iounn, but I forgive him. I honor him even now as my mother’s husband. I would welcome you as my brother.” Bragi was known for his astonishing commitment to forgiveness. Few could offer an olive branch of peace like Bragi. He felt Iounn was his only match in that regard.
“I offer my most sincere apologies for being a coward when you were taken, when your siblings were cast out as well. I have always been loyal to my father, and I could not bear to cross him. He was wrong. He admits it. And I mourn his choices and my own.” Bragi didn’t step closer, but he still refused to back away. He could nearly feel Fenrir’s breath on his face they were so close.
---
Had Holt not come after him on the network, there was a good chance that Fenrir might have stalked off on his own. He wouldn’t have been happy about it but he might not have pushed for a confrontation in the middle of the street in the middle of the night. But the threats had been issued and Holt had made it quite clear that he would come after Fenrir if he wanted to or left that he was warranted in doing so. The threat had not gone over well for him.
Coupled with the influence of Bragi over the human thought process, the wolf was practically seeing red. Bragi could die easily. He was frail and weak and not even worth the effort it would take to kill him but the desire was growing there, even from the generally cautious human side.
At the mention of his family again, Fenrir snarled. “You are not my family.” His fingers balled into a fist and even before he’d completed that move, he was already swinging. The human form made the blow both controlled and powerful, swinging in a tight arc that would smash against the side of Bragi’s face unless he made any move to block it. Odds were that unless he was stopped then, he would follow it with another quick jab of his fist into the other’s face.
--
Holt would have put up his hands to shield himself from attack, because that’s what humans did. They blinked and flinched and did a whole lot of other things when shit came flying at their faces. Things like fists. Big ones. Holt was not a small guy, nor was he weak. He might have even been able to block the punch had he been in control.
He wasn’t. And so Bragi took the first punch. He even allowed the second to land. He wouldn’t fight back when it was just himself and Holt. He’d take whatever punishment the wolf saw fit to deliver. Only if his loved ones or Holt’s were in danger and close by would he raise a hand, and it would attempt to subdue rather than strike.
Blood dripped from inside Holt’s mouth, and his bottom lip was cut as well. His cheek was red and it stung with pain, as did his eye on the left side of his face. He made no attempt to dab the blood or touch his throbbing face. Bragi simply straightened and gazed upon Fenrir with those warm eyes again. “I could be your family if you allowed it. I would stand beside you.”
---
If Holt had been in control, things probably wouldn’t have been very different. Fenrir was growing angry - and Eric was following the counsel of Bragi himself. Destroy him and it was done. Sacrifice, and all. And when he wasn’t fighting back, it just made the wolf that much more angry. He wanted a fight. He wanted blood and fury - not this pacifistic bullshit that came with more of those words.
The smell of blood struck a chord with him, reminding him of many things. Of long days in the desert and under the sun. Of marching and, yes, of watching other people die. It made his growling lower and more guttural. Less human.
“You’re such an asshole.” The wolf balked at the idea of making friends with him. “Do you think I’m stupid?” Fenrir struck out again, this time slamming his fist into Bragi’s abdomen. He wanted to hurt him. “You wouldn’t stand with your own father or against him. What does that make you?”
---
Bragi knew what he was doing was dangerous. Holt was very afraid. He really didn’t want to die, not without some sort of guarantee that his little girl would be safe. He couldn’t leave this world until he knew that much.
His body doubled over in pain. Bragi spit some of the blood that was in Holt’s mouth onto the ground, and he was slow to stand upright. “I told you.. I am but a coward. Violence is never my first choice, but my last. I will not fight you unless it is in defense of others.” Though Bragi did feel an urge to defend Holt, because this was the mortal’s body being pummeled, but Holt tried to have faith in the god. He needed to believe that Bragi knew what he was doing. Where were the god’s great words of persuasion?
He heard someone scream, someone who apparently saw what was going on and thought it was a mugging. The young woman ran, her fingers quickly dialing for the police no doubt. “The authorities will come soon. They have weapons. You should run.”
---
“You’re fucking right. And not you or that fucking Frigga are my family. Not after everything.” He was furious at the implication. All of them kept telling him what to do or how to act and he was sick of it. Maybe Iounn understood some of it. She’d been kidnapped and taken to them, as well as gifted as a prize to a man she didn’t really know- or at least that is what he understood. But they had gone on partying and laughing after they had left him the dark to rot until the end of time. None of them deserved a second life. None.
Fenrir heard the screams but didn’t care. Not even the human part of him could persuade him of that course of action, though Bragi was certainly doing very good work with his powers on the mortal. Eric was pushing flight instead of fight but the wolf was too raged now - and too riled up - to stop long enough to realize it.
When Bragi was doubled over, Fenrir used the opportunity to hit him again before he was entirely upright. This time going for an uppercut that would send him back and reeling if it connected. He wasn’t fighting back. And it was only increasing his frustration.
“Then you can go down more quickly than they.” There was as bit of a threat in his voice as well as a challenge.
--
The uppercut did knock him over. He fell to the ground, coughing, more blood falling to the pavement. This wasn’t going well. Not at all. Bragi’s powers either weren’t strong enough, or they didn’t work on wolves. Rabid wolves.
Holt regained control, clutching his abdomen. Something may have ruptured. The punch hit his spleen. He was sure of it. But the pain was nothing when Fenrir issued his threat.
Holt grabbed hold of the man’s legs and pulled as hard as he could to knock him off balance. He was still coughing up blood when he managed to get to his knees. Bragi wasn’t a fighter, and usually, Holt wasn’t either, but he wasn’t going to continue to take a beating after hearing that Fenrir was going after his family next. What if he went after Quinn? “You will not touch my family,” he growled, though it was that of a human, not a wolf.
---
The move was quick enough that the wolf didn’t counter it in time. And he staggered when Holt went for his knee. It was completely unexpected if only because it was so out of place in normal tactics - but it took Fenrir down to one knee with a snarl when the appendage cracked against the pavement heavily. It hurt enough to startle him but not much else.
It wasn’t nearly enough to keep him down for the count. “Or what? You’ll shoot me down like an animal? Isn’t that what you said?”
And he would take the lunge at Holt even from his knees, using the half crouch to launch himself at the other man - trying to slam him back against the pavement again, even while he was trying to ram his fist into the already bruised face once again. He hadn’t gone for the throat yet. But his eyes were starting to bleed amber into the irsies, replacing the dark brown in their depths.
---
“I’ll fucking rip you apart if you touch my baby,” Holt seethed as he grappled with Fenrir. He wasn’t going to simply take it anymore. He’d fight. He might die doing it, but so be it. Fenrir was an asshole with no remorse for his actions. He didn’t care that he was going to hurt innocent souls. So Holt refused to feel bad about attacking. For defending himself.
His back hurt from being slammed down, but not as bad as Fenrir’s was about to. Being a former Marine didn’t make Fenrir the smartest fighter. So after shaking off the next punch to his already swollen and bleeding face, Holt went for a well aimed punch to Fenrir’s kidney. He hit it as hard as he possibly could. It was the sort of blow that wasn’t even legal in most fighting sports because of the damage it could inflict. And it was crippling. A professional doing it could kill a man. Holt was no professional, at least not when it came to fighting. But he was doctor, and he knew his organs!
---
Fenrir’s threat had been just for this. To make the other fight back. There was no sense of vengeance when the other just took it. When he wouldn’t move even to defend himself from this or that. Fen wanted a fight. He wanted an excuse to let out everything pent up inside him that had been growing for so long. “Go fuck yourself.”
The resounding yelp that came with the kidney strike was even less human than the growling had been, especially as the man arched back in pain - though not without swinging his fist in a vicious backhand across Holt’s face, putting more force behind that blow than any of the others. It was a blow that could very well have broken something in the other man’s face if he hit it right - and Fenrir was aiming to do just that, though he rolled off Holt with the sharp pain in his side so immediate to land nearly on all fours there on the sidewalk.
But the noise was not necessarily a good thing, especially as it turned into a snarl. While Fenrir’s default form in this life was human, he was still wolf. And that wolf came forth with a fury when his emotions ran high. The blow, and the pain, had further infuriated him to the point of being unable to hold his form solid. Dark fur began to spill over his arms even as the claws burst forth from his fingernails, giving him an oddly mottled appearance, especially as his face began to lengthen, forming a muzzle where his mouth had been, the muscles and bones reshaping with the magic that gave him the power to do so. It was a slower process, only just begun now.
--
Holt’s nose gushed blood. It was broken. Fenrir’s strike hit him just right across the face. Lucky for Holt, he’d broken his nose once before when he was in high school, so he wasn’t out of his element. The pain was bad, all of it, but Fenrir had done no damage to Holt’s extremities, so when the man rolled off from the pain of the strike to his kidney, Holt scrambled quickly to his feet. He was fueled by survival now. Instincts took over, and he hardly noticed how much he was bleeding and the searing pain that was mostly coming from the injuries to his face, though that punch to his gut still hurt as well, though he didn’t think his spleen had ruptured like he feared before.
He stood at the ready, but he wasn’t ready for what he saw next. Fenrir was shifting into a wolf. It was like the shit he’d seen in horror movies, only this was real. Instinct kicked in again. There was nothing to keep Holt from running this time. He didn’t know how long of a window he had created from the pain he’d caused or the transformation process. He had to get somewhere safe.
It was a risky move, but Holt ran back toward work. He didn’t want to put anyone else in danger, but he had to get away from the animal. “CALL SECURITY!” he screamed as he headed for the emergency bay. They had armed officers on duty at all times. Sirens could already be heard heading this way, probably from the girl’s 911 call. If Fenrir was smart, he’d run the opposite way, but even if Holt escaped with his life this time, the fight was not over.
---
It was just like the shit in horror movies, though Fenrir’s transformation was less painful than some. He was a creature of magic and the shift, then, was far more magical than biological in nature. It was something that he appreciated, when he gave the time to think about it. Holt probably wasn’t appreciating much of anything right now. He greatly underestimated the transformation process, specifically how long it took Fenrir realize that Holt was running. Bragi or Holt, at this point they had become the same enemy. His prey was getting away. Bragi had offered himself up as a sacrifice and now ran from his fate. Coward. Liar. The human half was confused - still muddled in the words from the persuasive god. He was running now that he knew he’d lost; he was going back on his word, wasn’t he?
He sprang up from the crouch - half human and half monster now and growing more monstrous by the second as his transformation lulled with the scent of his prey moving away. His legs were twisted up - joints snapping back and making him more suited for speed and no longer fully bipedal movement. The sirens would make his ears lie back flat but he didn’t hesitate for longer than a full second before he was lunging forward.
Trying to catch Holt before he escaped fully. Screaming for help wouldn’t incite anything but further fury from the wolf - fury and score for the man who had threatened him and then tried to talk himself out of the trouble he had brought. That his family had brought. Damn them all.
Elongated teeth snapping, the wolf-man threw himself at Holt’s back, arms out and claws extended to tear into the flash at his back, making a vicious swipe for him even as he tried to slap the bulk of his weight into the Norseman. He would use the same strategy for bringing down large prey on the man.
---
Yes, Holt and Bragi had offered themselves as a sacrifice, but it was an offer that Fenrir refused. He wouldn’t accept this one body and two souls in exchange for the safety of all others. Holt and Bragi would have stayed and died if they had some sort of guarantee. But knowing that Fenrir planned to go after their families, they had to fight. There wasn’t a choice now. They had to protect their loved ones from the beast.
But first, Holt had to survive. He nearly made it to safety. He was right outside the emergency bay. There were people, but he couldn’t make out faces right now. He had some blood in his eyes, tears too. But he was thrown down on his chest, his face hitting the pavement. His nose was already broken, so it didn’t do too much additional damage.
He clawed at the ground in an effort to get up, but the wolf was huge and holding him down. Claws had torn through his clothes, though his backpack turned out to be his saving grace, because it kept the claws from any vital organs and the spine. Instead, the backs of Holt’s arms were cut from the swipe. “HELP!” he screamed to the people he saw.
---
Ash had just finished a long shift in the ER and she was really looking forward to going back to her apartment and just being lazy before she went to bed. The stress and intensity was over, and now was the time to relax. Well, at least that was the idea. She had just come out of changing into her normal clothes when she heard a voice shouting for help, a very familiar voice. Ash and Airmid were both in agreement as they ran towards it, just in time to see a.... a werewolf? Something that didn’t completely make sense jumping on Holt, and the blood....
“Holt!” She screamed out. Sense would have told the younger woman to navigate this carefully, to not put herself in danger too, but there was no sense involved here, and Ash threw her purse at the beast in hopes of at least distracting it... him... it. She didn’t wait to see if it worked though before she was throwing herself on the ground next to Holt, trying to do whatever she could.
---
There were no such things as werewolves. None at all. There were, however, such things as demi-gods with a penchant for turning furry when they were wounded or angy. And Fenrir’s side still ached sharply where Holt had scored the direct hit against his kidneys. It hurt enough to make him snarl with pleasure when he felt Holt hit the ground beneath him, planting a knee in the small of the other man’s back to keep him pinned.
The backpack was a problem, and that became immediately apparent as he’d succeeded in ripping that to shreds but not the god beneath him. ”Where are your threats now?” The voice was sharp and low, like a buzzing against one’s mind instead of actual words. Enraged, there wasn’t much logic to him or his actions, just the snap of jaws and then claws raking down the backpack - and the back of Holt’s arms in an attempt to incapacitate him further. “Not so quick to laugh now, are you Bragi?” Intent on his prey, he didn’t hear Ash scream his name or dash out the door for them.
He’d only look up when he registered the new threat - and took her purse to the face. The wolf was more startled than hurt by the move, though it would give him pause enough for Holt to try to scramble away, if he were quick enough to do it.
It was only then that he realized the sirens were coming closer - and there were people coming for them. Not just the woman - no, the god - coming for Bragi.
--
Holt had been frustrated the first time Ash came to his aid when he was in the ICU all confused and upset over what was going on with Zinny. But now, he’d never been happier to see another person. He feared for her though, and while he was bleeding even more and in a substantial amount of pain, he managed to scoot away when the wolf moved.
While it exposed more organs than he cared to have slashed, he needed to be able to face his attacker, and Holt back up toward Ash, shielding her behind him. Fenrir didn’t want her. He wasn’t after her. “I never laughed!” he screamed, he being a strange blend of Holt and Bragi, who were more one than they’d ever been before.
More people were rushing out of the emergency bay to respond to whatever was going on, including security guards who had guns. And there was the sound of screeching tires, the sirens deafening now, as police arrived. “Run!” he told Fenrir, putting as much of Bragi’s influence into that single word as possible.
---
All Ash and Airmid, because the vessel wasn’t sure where one ended and the other began, too filled with adrenaline, cared about was that she’d done something with her desperate throw, even if it was just distracting him enough to let Holt scramble away. That done, and none of them being in a position for any healing to be done just yet, they let Holt/Bragi stand infront, trying to process what was going on. The wolf had spoken, and Holt seemed familiar with it.... Ash and Airmid had read the posts about a wolf they were meant to be looking out for... heard rumors it might be Fenrir, so was this him? With Bragi so apparent and all that was going on right now it was hard to distinguish and separate that feeling of the god soul in the other. It was possible.... If that were the case both women were hoping he’d take the chance to run for now. This was not the place to be trying to sort this out.
---
There wasn’t much to be done for him here. Not now. Not with all the people coming and the sirens. The noises were starting to permeate and his situation was becoming less than advantageous by the second. There was blood in his claws and the scent was heavy in his muzzle. He wanted more blood. And he wanted it now.
But there were too many humans and another god that he could not account for. She wasn’t Norse and he had no problem with her, whomever her friends happened to be and as unfortunate as her choices in that regard were. The uniformed security were already drawing their weapons at him, looks of horror and disbelief on their features. Maybe New York City wasn’t ready to be introduced to Fenrir but it didn’t seem like they had a choice right now. He turned his snarl at the officers and one of them stumbled a few steps backwards in sheer terror.
He knew what he looked like. He knew what he was. A monster, just like the Norse had always said. Just like the Aesir had told him forever. Holt yelling at him drew his attention and he snarled at the god once again - before turning on his heel and bounding away, far faster than any human legs could have taken him.
But to assume that this particular feud had ended would be stupidly optimistic.
--
Holt was very much on edge, preparing to be killed. He really didn’t know what to expect from Fenrir. The wolf might kill everyone. But he didn’t. He ran. And when he did, Holt collapsed back against Ash. If not for her, he very likely would be dead now, and without any promise that his life was a fair trade for the safety of the rest of the Aesir.
“Apples,” he said after spitting out more blood. Two of the apples Zinny had sent him were in his backpack. He’d already eaten two from the delivery, but was saving the rest. He really needed them now though, because they might speed his healing. He wasn’t going to die. His injuries, while gruesome in appearance, were mostly on the surface. He might have bruised ribs and a broken nose, as well as a lot of cuts, but it would all heal just fine.