Ravensblood Forest run devil run

Me too! I'm really enjoying playing out the more childish aspects of Bazi - like objecting to things that don't really matter.

Busted. Bazi pushed the soft, fermented fruit away and listened impatiently to his incoherent blather (a judgement she would have stuck by even if his speech had not been impaired by alcohol).

"You're wrong!" Bazi screeched back at him, lip curled in anger. As long as he was wobbling, she felt safe enough to continue their battle of wits - the Ridge was not a Viking pack, and she could hardly be done for verbal sparring on neutral ground. This utter nonsense about Odinn and noble deaths had her quite riled up. "You killed it, and that would have been totally fine if you were talking to the sky some some kind of lunatic, and telling me that some 'God' demanded that cub die. It wasn't a noble death, nobody went to any kind of hall with a giant ale goat; it was just natural and sad and a little bit shit." She huffed angrily. "You didn't have to defile its last moments of life with your stupid little ritual."

There was no point to this, really. She and Björn never crossed paths, and were even less likely to now that Bazi kept to the east of the mountains. But something about the very fact that such a deeply devoted wolf could even exist rubbed her the wrong way, and an itch must be scratched.