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[Ivar had invited his father over to the mansion to meet his granddaughter. He'd pampered Winter a little more than was necessary during the morning to make sure she was in a good mood. He didn't want her accidentally draining her grandfather of life force because she got into a cranky mood. He dressed her up in a unique onesie complete with a little bow for her white hair. The whole outfit complimented her pale skin and red pupils quite well.

When Ragnar arrived, he had Winter sitting on his lap, looking around her with mild interest. Ivar looked about as proud a father as he could possibly be.]

This is your granddaughter, Winter Istrid Regis Ivarsdottir.

[It was a long name for a little baby, but somehow, it fit her well.]

[ Athelstan knows that Ragnar has to have his phone read text messages to him but it's better than trying to disguise how he's feeling in an audio or video message. Ragnar knows him far too well to not at least get a hint of distress. ]

Have you ever drank something that was not alcohol that affected you strangely...? Made you do things you wouldn't normally?

[Ivar's white-hot fury hadn't dissipated at all in the time it took him to get over to his father's house. If anything, it had grown bigger. Ivar was armed to the teeth and looked like he was ready to do battle with Fenrir himself. He let himself in and looked around for Ragnar. Oh, his father was going to regret every bad decision he'd ever made in his life by the time his son was done with him.]

It'd been a long night. He'd been intimate with Ragnar and then that stupid message from Dodger and well... that had been a mess and not at all gone like he'd wanted. He came home and tried to wash away the evidence but the feeling of the sin and the guilt that was somehow morphing into the feeling that Ragnar had sanctioned it without even talking to him. If he were being logical he'd have known better.

But he couldn't make himself go back to their bed, he ends up drinking some and then going out to his art room. He sketches and he dozes there. He tries to pray but it feels wrong. He actually takes his cross off for a short time but not long before it's back on again.

He's exhausted and troubled and the sketch he's working on is Christ on the cross and crows roosting on it. Again, it's sacrilegious in a way but somehow feels right.

[Maybe it's a little late by the morning... but by the time he woke up, he'd been struck by some sort of conscience. Or maybe he was just worried this would come back to bite him in the ass, like teasing Ivar had.]

Do you have a free minute? I wanna tell you something, I- need to the first person you hear it from.

It's sometime after Dodger's reached out to Athelstan about what Ragnar and Ivar had gotten up to. He's still not sure what to do with the information, though, he's anything but happy about it. He's not made an effort just yet to confront Ragnar and perhaps he wouldn't -- though, the past month is enough to tell that he really shouldn't sit on his feelings.

In any case, he's quietly working away in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. He's mostly running on auto pilot, completely lost in his thoughts.

[The advantage of Dodger's powers in situations like this is that he can be carefully sure that Ragnar is alone when he approaches him next. It's been weeks, and those weeks have been hell for him... it's about time he did something productive.

Dodger enters Ragnar's house in the morning, invisible, but Gyda and Athelstan are around throughout the day. He stays out of their way, makes very little noise, and just observes them. Gyda goes to school, comes home, asks to go to a friend's house. Athelstan and Ragnar have their lilting romance, which makes Dodger bristle a bit each time he sees them together. Finally, Athelstan leaves to go to his art room and Dodger decides it's as good a time as any to make a move.

Ragnar is in the kitchen when Dodger becomes visible, sitting on the counter as he has been for a few minutes now. His appearance has changed drastically; his hair is shorn in an undercut, he has a few new piercings in his left ear, his ratty hoodie has been replaced with a hooded leather jacket, and the arm that Ragnar and Ivar had cut up is now covered in half-headed, stretched skin with warped tattoos. Most startlingly, his eyes now glow with an ethereal light, and have the sharp slitted pupils of a snake.]

We need to talk.

[It's not a request, it's a command.]

Athelstan isn't expecting to walk into anything abnormal when he comes home but immediately he's noticing the burnt smell. Worry comes to the forefront of his mind because, of course he's been worried that Dodger would burn down the house.

"Ragnar? What happened?" he asks, as soon as he catches sight of the other's form there and at least there doesn't appear to be anyone else there.

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