ragnarsson | Penance Inbox

[Ivar leans his head on Dodger's shoulder, closing his eyes, and just inhales his boyfriend's scent for a moment, that familiar mixture of drugs, smoke, alcohol, and something that was uniquely him. He sighs and doesn't let go. He's been more worried then he wanted to admit, unable to cope with the idea Dodger might have once again left him. It speaks volumes to the fact that he's wearing Dodger's old beaten-up hoodie right now and has been for about the past week.

He opens up his eyes and looks at Dodger, really looks at him to take in all his wounds and new scars. He moves one of his hands down, gently taking one of Dodger's hands in his own. It's the same one he's just cut. He brings it up to his lips, gently tracing the busted knuckles and still-bleeding palm feather-light with his lips, showing Dodger what he really thinks rather then just using his words. Finally, he lets go.]

Alright. So talk.

[Ivar is holding him too tightly, putting pressure on all his sore spots, and he's about ready to heat up burn him off when he's finally released. The look he's giving Ivar during all that affection is one of quiet frustration, but he accepts the kisses and the the gentle touches. Accepts it, but doesn't return it.

And then he's let go, he moves two steps back to reach up and lick the blood off his palm. Idly he wonders if that hoodie is the same one he's been wearing, or if Ivar brought his own copy of it in from the ocean.]

Fuck, man... [He growls.] You know you can call me, right?

[As if he ever answers his phone. At least he usually remembers to call back after a few days. Usually.]

Don't touch me, alright? I'm all busted up, it just hurts. I need you to talk to my dog for me.

[And as if on cue, a slightly thin beauceron with floppy, uncropped ears wanders in from one of the unused rooms. And as soon as he spots Ivar, the dog stops short and bristles, pinning his ears back and glancing at Dodger as if to ask for reassurance.]

As if you ever answer when I do.

[Ivar grumbles a little. Dodger and he tend to do their own things, only coming together when it’s convenient for them. This isn’t always necessarily a bad thing, but it does make it a bit inconvenient when one of them is feeling especially needy, as Ivar is right now. He turns to look at the dog which has come into the room, looking from it to Dodger and back again.]

You didn’t tell me you had a dog. [There’s a smirk that appears on his features the longer he looks at the dog, reading the body language coming off the neurotic beast.] He suits you.

[Ivar holds out a hand to Crusher, making a soft whistling noise. His tone is far more gentle then he ever tends to get with an animal.] Come over here. I won’t hurt you

[Dodger rolls his eyes, but he just steps back a bit more to give Ivar room. Crusher, meanwhile, has started lowering his head and then the rest of his body, creeping forward but hugging the wall to make a wide berth around the Viking.]

He doesn't like strangers. [Dodger hesitates.] His name's Crusher. He's my dog from home, ah.. Augustine gave him to me. Couple months before I ended up in the ocean.

[It's probably Crusher's birthday soon, now that he thinks of it... but while he's sure he has the date written down somewhere, he's not the type to care much about celebrating birthdays for pets.

Crusher is close enough now to sniff at Ivar's hand from afar, but his body language is tense and unsure, ready to snap and bite if he's startled. His mouth is foaming with nervous drool - his jaw and neck are already soaked, so that's clearly just normal for him.]

Huh. He certainly seems like the type of dog that you would possess.

[Is that a crack about Crusher’s appearance or Dodger’s? Ambiguous. He tries to get the dog to come closer to him, but it appears he’s far too nervous about this strange man to allow Ivar to get anywhere close to touching him.

Ivar starts stripping down of all but the most form-fitting layers. His leg braces are taken off with the most careful air and set down on the floor next to him.]

Keep an eye on those. I don’t want your mutt to gnaw on them. So tell me, what do you want me to ask your beast?

[With that, Ivar starts to morph into his husky form. His bones creak and groan as some are shortened while others form from seemingly nothing at all. His muscles constrict and contract as they form around his new frame and thick, fluffy fur sprouts all over him. His ears melt into the side of his head and move further up as his thumbs and fingers shorten into stubs while they sprout dark nails. When he’s done, he turns to look at the room around him. When he spots Crusher, the dog’s instincts immediately rise up and overcome his own human ones. The hair along the husky’s back rises straight up and a deep growl rises from his throat. He stands there, chest puffed out, and ears flattened against his skull.

Dodger might want to grab his boyfriend’s collar if he doesn’t want a fight to ensue. (And boy does that sound a lot less sexy and kinky when he’s a literal dog instead of a person.)]

[He rolls his eyes, but doesn't answer. He knows Crusher is a mess but honestly, he looks a lot better than he did at home.]

I just need you to tell him not t-

[Ivar bristles and Dodger teleports forward, grabbing his collar and yanking hard to pull him backward into a sit.]

-Back down, dumbass. [He glances between the dogs; Crusher has dropped low to the ground, but is still signalling he'll fight if he has to.] Tell him to stop barking when I bring people over, and stop dragging the leash when he sees Hawke's dogs.

[Crusher is now fully on the ground, whimpering quietly and licking his lips.] Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me, don't hurt my master, I'm scared, you can be in charge, don't hurt me.

[Ivar continues to struggle for a few moments because clearly, this man does not understand that there is a dog over there and it needs to be dealt with and this cannot happen if he is being held back! Then his human brain reasserts itself and he begins to calm back down, feeling a bit sheepish he'd let the dog instincts get the better of him.

Ivar is still puffed up and oozing out alpha dog energy from every pore. He fixes Crusher with an imperious glare. While dogs don't necessarily converse in words, if they did, this is close to what the conversation would sound like.]

That is right! I am the boss and you are a mere peasant of an animal. You will listen to me from now on because all shall obey me.

[His whole demeanor seems to be determined to turn Crusher into a quivering bowl of Jello. Then he passes along the message of what Dodger wants him to say. Once that's done, he turns his head to look back at Dodger.]

<Alright, I told him what you wanted. He's really weird, were his parents brother and sister or something?>

[Well, all things considered it isn't hard to dominate Crusher. The dog would probably be scared by a quivering bowl of Jello. Ivar barely has to twitch his tail, and Crusher is on his back, wiggling closer just to lick Ivar's muzzle submissively. And through the whole message, he's just desperately agreeing to everything he's told.

Dodger sees none of this, all he sees is his boyfriend intimidating his dog and then getting kissed all over. He sighs and shrugs.]

He's a failed attack dog. Augustine dumped him on me when we couldn't get him through training.

[Ivar allows himself to be licked by Crusher until he feels the dog has shown enough sufficient submission. Then he licks the dog back once before sniffing along his head, biting and gnawing him gently on the back of the ears a few times in the way an alpha will often do just to show off his power.

Ivar turns to give Dodger a rather flat look. Sometimes, it seems amazing he managed to fool Dodger as long as he did at playing Braska.]

<Of course you'd have a failed attack dog as your pet. He's basically all your worst qualities in dog form.>

[Rude, Ivar. Very rude. But also rather honest.]

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