[ Freyja, once a small hand-sized rescue, has always been one of the most venomous snakes on the moon even before her meeting with Loki. As with most beasts that linger too long around the God of Chaos and are exposed to his resonance, her mutated physiology is now large enough that, even without her poisonous bite, she is the most confident serpent in the Quarantine (by Loki's estimation he would call her snooty). So, even with a stranger in her territory and one larger than her friend at that, she surveys Owen and his gun with a haughty dismissiveness, hissing as she sinks to the cool floor and slithers deeper into the cavernous home. She could take the man in a fight, she's sure, but why not let Loki deal with it? That's far funnier.
There comes no attack to force Owen out, which serves as her back-handed invitation.
Homely touches are sprinkled here and there without a sparse air, as if the house isn't often used but is kept in good enough nick in the meantime. After Freyja's tail disappears down a second set of stairs much further in past the lounge-come-kitchen, a surprised voice echoes up to the main floor. Male, indignant. ]
no subject
There comes no attack to force Owen out, which serves as her back-handed invitation.
Homely touches are sprinkled here and there without a sparse air, as if the house isn't often used but is kept in good enough nick in the meantime. After Freyja's tail disappears down a second set of stairs much further in past the lounge-come-kitchen, a surprised voice echoes up to the main floor. Male, indignant. ]
... you let in a giant man carrying a what?