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Grendel snorted and rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses where they couldn't be seen. He was beginning to question his own judgement, and whether Ravnos was really the best one to be helping him with all of this.

But he was the one the god had felt drawn to. The meeting was destined. The little impromptu road trip was a byproduct of that meeting. He chose to trust his instincts in this. Ravnos was clearly hedonistic, and a tease at that, but he was also clever.

In response to Ravnos's boisterous claim, Grendel snapped his fingers, and stole the disciple's cigar away, placing it between his own lips with a vicious smile as he took a long drag.

He chuckled lowly, a deep rumble in his chest, and whispy tendrils of smoke emerged.

"That does not offend me. In fact, I agree with you. My father is an a**."

He waited a moment, glancing upward as though expecting some repercussion on the spot. When none came, he continued.

"What did he do to you?" He asked, curious, and perhaps thinking this was a good way to make small talk.

Grendel had not meant to strike a nerve, yet he might have known already what his father had done. He rose from his seat in a smooth motion, setting down his cup and removing his hat, and the sunglasses as well. Neither was really necessary at the moment, though it was easy for him to forget that he was even wearing them. As Ravnos spoke, he closed his eyes and saw the memories for himself, as though he were in the lair of Ihrad at the time of it happening, and witnessed it all. He could even feel what Ravnos felt.

When his eyes opened, glowing dimly with the intrusive power he chose to exercise, he found that he had, unconsciously, moved to Ravnos's back, and had reached out to grip his shoulder...perhaps in comfort?

"Dracian..." The name rolled off of his tongue easily, and he attempted to turn him, holding up the cigar he had taken, which was now whole again, as if it had never been lit. He held it up like an apology.

Grendel did not quite understand the pain or anger that Ravnos was feeling at that moment. Not precisely. He did not see the passing of mortals as something to grieve, and so he focused on something else that the disciple said.

"Do you not want the gift that Caine gave to you? Would you like me to take it back?"

There was a good chance that he had missed the point entirely.

There was something in the way Ravnos held himself, in how he was at one moment vulnerable and the next completely in control. It was intriguing, and it stirred within Grendle strange feelings that he was not yet used to or that he even understood. In fact, he chose to dismiss them entirely rather than try. At the moment, he was just a concerned god, feeling, again for reasons beyond him, that he could somehow fix his father's wrongs.

But if Caine had not done what he did, then Ravnos would not be here, and Grendel would not have his guidance.

He was relieved when Ravnos declined the offer, though he kept that relief hidden, only nodding in affirmation. He would have slid his hand away, then, but it was being held there, at least for the moment.

Another smirk. "I will keep it between us, then, Dracian." He said the name as if he enjoyed saying it, savouring each syllable as it passed from his wine stained lips. "In return, I will allow you to call me...Lord Grendel. Yes, I think that it is a fair exchange." The smirk grew.

He was probably joking.

Gren. He mulled that over. Nobody had ever shortened his name before. likely out of fear of being considered disrespectful. In this case, it seemed necessary, however. While he had changed his appearance so as not to be easily recognized, his name was well-known, and more than a little uncommon.

He had opened his mouth to speak, but then the wagon lurched to a halt. Somehow, he remained perfectly still and was not thrown off balance. His head turned towards the exit even while Ravnos released his hand and moved away. He found the sudden change unpleasant and glanced down at his empty hand with its dark claws.

Ravnos was gone, leaving the god alone in the wagon. He pondered whether to wait here or exit when the scent of something burning filled his nose and cheerful noises in his ears. Curious, he moved toward the exit, peering out with one red eye.

Now was his chance to mingle among the mortals, and to try his hand at being someone he was not. Summoning his hat and sunglasses to his hand, he placed them on his head and face, rendering him in full incognito mode.

As he stepped down from the wagon, he was immediately accosted by the sense of joy coming from all directions. He stiffened, unused to the cacophony of emotions, sounds, and smells that filled the air. He looked for Ravnos, scanning the immediate area first with his eyes, and then with his mind when he did not appear. Ah, there. He was doing business of some kind. Grendel pulled himself back, and steeling himself, moved further away from the wagon.

How did one walk like a mortal? He became hyperaware of his own appearance, wondering if anybody would notice the smoothness of his stride. He approached the bonfire, the flames reflected in his dark lenses and on the adornments around his neck. Ridiculous to wear sunglasses at night, though he could see through them just as well as if they weren't even on his face, so he did not realize it was strange.

Something bumped into his leg. He glanced down, to see a clumsy toddler had run straight into him. It stared back at him with large, blue eyes. He stepped back and lowered himself to its level.

Hmmm...He wasn't exactly hungry, as gods did not feel hunger, but this little morsel did appear appetizing.

She smiled, and he smiled back.

Suddenly, they were both gone.

When Grendel returned, alone, licking his claws clean and smoothing out his clothes, it was to see that Ravnos was still off doing...whatever it is that he did. The god could not help but feel slightly put out; abandoned and left to his own devices in an environment he was none too familiar with. He had been told to explore.

Well. He had explored that child's insides. Now, what else was there to do?

Readjusting his sunglasses, he watched the crowd from a distance. His ears flicked through the voices and thoughts, and his eyes perceived all. He knew that the child's parents were now looking for her, though not with panic yet. That would come, in time.

Then there was a new sound, one he had not been listening for but pervaded his senses nonetheless. His gaze turned slowly toward Ravnos's wagon, and his head tilted slightly towards it.

A blink and he was inside the wagon, standing next to the chair he had sat in earlier. Silently he removed his hat and glasses and set them on the arm of the chair. He removed his jacket and pulled the black shirt over his head with the soft tinkling of his necklaces, a sound that might be the only warning Ravnos got that he had returned.

His tentacles reformed at his back and he stalked forward toward the bedroom, his eyes bleeding to inky black, his lips pulled back from pointed (and slightly bloodstained) teeth.

Two tentacles whipped out, both to wrap around the throat of whoever Ravnos had brought back to the wagon, and to drag her out of the bedroom, with the intention of dropping her at his feet.

Grendel was angry, yes, but even if he could explain the volatile mix of his emotions that erupted in seething rage, and why he did the things that he did, he would not offer that explanation to anybody, least of all to his current host. He got irritated, and he acted upon that irritation. To the young and woefully inexperienced god, it was just that simple.

"You did not offer to share." He said, voice low and dangerous "Help yourself to whatever you like, I believe you said." He may have only meant it to be about the clothes, but Grendel had obviously taken it a completely different way.

He hadn't looked at Ravnos yet, instead, he scowled at the woman on the floor, and at the mess, she was making. The tentacles that slid around her neck retreated, though one moved to wrap around her ankles, to hold her aloft. He looked at her neck, at the jagged tears that would have likely been much cleaner had he not ripped her from the disciple's mouth. Blood continued to trickle to the floor from the gaping wound.

"Are you fond of her?" He asked, completely ignoring what Ravnos had said.

Finally, his eyes moved from the limp body he held to Ravnos standing just beyond, and for a moment, everything went utterly still, the room they stood in darkening at the edges. Grendel stared with jet-black eyes at the disciple, taking him in, and following the trail of blood that had trickled from his mouth, down his chest, down, down.....

The sharp line of questioning drew him back, and the room lightened again. Was it warm in here? The god suddenly felt warm, which didn't seem possible.

Blood continued to trickle to the floor.

"You..." He scowled, and cleared his throat. His face shifted down so that he was staring at the gathering, sticky red puddle on the floor. The cloying scent of blood was filling the air. It was overwhelming. "You should have called me when you got back. I waited. I was patient." He hadn't been, but Ravnos didn't need to know that. Outside, he could hear voices calling a name.

When Ravnos said that one word, "No", Grendel seemed to relax. "No?" He repeated, the body lowering slightly.