you're all just ᴍᴇᴀᴛ

               ❝ well, nothing of a WICKED nature, i can assure you.                    i simply collect them; store them away to preserve                    what’s inside. ❞

[ a proverbial stick in the spoke of his slow chew on a lukewarm fry, a minute hitch, she sows nonplus into the rucked lax made of his brow. how about that. ]    “ nice shot. betcha can’t do it twice. “

‘ I would. you’ve been hiding in these   cold stones long enough. I have a   much safer place for you, if you are   agreeable to my terms. ‘

               like some curious carrion, they cant their head  ---                her stolen words parroted past an unmoving maw.

windiiga

‘ — you look hungry старый бог, perhaps   I can help you. would you let me? ‘

“Playing in her room, last time I checked.”

The little girl had been more energetic lately; she was gaining some mobility, not quite walking, but crawling where she pleased and picking things up and exploring them. Loki had seen her, with her sometimes-babble but mostly quiet manner, turning her blocks over or picking at the fabric of her stuffed animals. Inquisitive, curious. It was a good sign. “You can go play with her if you want.”

                        it’s a kind offer --- one they’re likely to take up soon. the last time                         they’d seen the girl, it hadn’t been in false flesh. she’d clambered                         up their maw and sat happily  between  their  antlers,  curling  her                         chubby little fingers in the ashen mess of their fur. distantly,  they                         wonder if she’ll recognize them without a pelt,  but  the  child  had                         always been different. they could smell it. like smoke. like sage.

                        for now, they’re pleased enough to remain here, smiling sweetly                         around crunching bone and sinew.

   “ — said it yer shot, darlin’. “

            despite their squint, they take up a dart. too light too dull too cheap.             but they mimic the meatsack’s swing of his arm and the little metal             tip pierces a stained felt center.

“ … how the hell did you get blood on your forehead – come here so I can wipe it off. You’re so embarrassing.”

“No moose, honey. They’re endangered. Thank you, though.”

She takes out the remainder of the whole; there’s quite a bit left, a she had only really picked at the legs. Knowing their appetite, Loki simply sits the entire roasting pan on the table. “If you want it hot, I can do that.”

                                   ❛ that’s ok.

              hot or cold, they’re all too happy to take their seat at the table.               deft fingers tear hunks of lamb from the carcass, stuff the flesh               into a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. they smile with lips that are               and are not theirs and curious eyes flicker up to meet               their hostess.

“ … wipe off your mouth more, the blood is starting to cake.”