Ouroboros Spine my father bleeds history

A certain sense of recognition washed across the other wolf's features, and Viggo was once more curious as to why he had thought this one was familiar. “Viggo,” he replied more slowly, “Viggo Ostrega.” He squinted at the other, as if that would somehow make him realize how or why he thought he knew this wolf. Perhaps it was somebody he had come across in his travels. Or maybe... maybe this was his father? Viggo's heart began to beat strongly in his chest, wondering if perhaps his father had stuck around long enough to know his son's name. Could it be?

Such a thing seemed unworldly, and Viggo thought of how amusing it would be if this wolf truly was his father. After giving up on finding him, could this be him, standing here wanting him to recite his name again? Viggo's head was swimming with possibility as he tried to figure out if that was the case, but he would have to wait for the other to answer before he jumped to any further conclusions.