"Mage." If a voice could sound like smoke and smell like ashes, that's how Engrid would describe it. She keeps her cloak wrapped tightly around herself as she looks up at the Guardian, magic circles glittering against her forearm as she keeps her mana ready. However, the apparition in the sky, Fenrisulfr, doesn't attack; he simply speaks, yellow eyes trained not on the arms that may attack him but the face of the one who commands them. "You know the risk of coming to my estate, and yet you still trespass. Does Freyja not teach wisdom over recklessness?"

"Freyja does not teach," she replies, dropping to one knee upon hearing the goddess's name. "Rather, if she does, I would not know. My magic is of the modern-Renaissance lineage." Fenrisulfr snorts in contempt; it's well known that the many schools of magic do not get along at all, which only makes Engrid's presence all the more dangerous. "I bear you no ill will, nor do I come on the behalf of any higher being. I simply wish to speak to a great Guardian not of my own lineage."

A cloud of thick smoke moves behind Engrid's body, and it takes her a moment to realize that it's Fenrisulfr's tail, enclosing her in a makeshift barrier. "You choose the wrong Guardian to engage in idle chatter with, Mage. I can kill you before you utter another sentence if I so wish."

"But you have yet to do so, and so you don't wish." Fenrisulfr bares his fangs, but he doesn't move to bite her; instead his voice comes out as a barking laugh, and she breathes a sigh of relief. She had been taking a gamble, but it seems to be paying off. "If you don't wish for idle chatter, then may I suggest a game instead? A game of.....words."

"You mages are all so fond of your words," Fenrisulfr shoots back, the smallest signs of a snarl hidden in the back of his throat. _"They hold less power than you mortals believe."

"T'was those fools who confined me here!" He roars anger, but Engrid hears pain. "Come Ragnarok, I will force those foolish Asgardians to their knees and take far more than their hands!"

Engrid is silent for a moment, combing over every sparse piece of Morse mythos she knows. It's not enough to know the details of Fenrisulfr's life,

Engrid takes a deep breath. "Great Guardian, I am ready to speak."

"What say you, Mage? Choose your words carefully lest you actively seek death."

Engrid looks up, but doesn't see a beast waiting to tear his enemies asunder. Instead, she sees Fenrisulfr for what he really is, a lonely pup waiting for his master to return home. Her hand reaches out to the sky, and darkness plays between her fingertips, becoming soft like fur as the magic fades from her tattoos. She can't help but smile as she speaks, knowing that she has already won.

"Good boy."