"RANALD!!!!"
The Four-Fold god would never admit it, not even to his wife and daughters, that he just about jumped out of his skin when that infuriated bellow echoed across the aether. The worst part was that that tiny moment of surprise was all that it took for this particular god to have crossed the distance between them, and grabbed him round the neck. The cat in his hood let out a hiss of annoyance, but even it quieted under the absolute
fury that shone in Sigmar's eyes.
"
Ghuk- Sigmar. Love-
gck-ly to see you. How's the thr-
grk." Sigmar's hands tightened, cutting off Ranald's voice. When the other god spoke, it was in a slow timbre that highlighted the blazing fury he was holding at bay.
"Do you have any
idea what you've done?!?! Things were already precarious. They were already walking a sword's blade, and now they're dancing on it's edge!" He shook Ranald, paying no mind to the plethora of gems, baubles, coins, cards and daggers that fell from the various folds and pockets of his clothing. "I can't believe I trusted that you were sincere when we shared that toast!" Ranald managed to get one hand on Sigmar's grip, and pry it open
just enough to inhale. Both of them knew it was pageantry in the back of their minds, but right now they were almost back to being human in their reactions.
"Sigmar, my friend. My drinking buddy, my boon companion...
What the bloodied fuck are you on about?!" In response Sigmar pivoted, turning Ranald in his grip and pointing him in a specific "direction" focusing on a certain point beyond the aether.
"...oh." There was a blank pause. "Would it help if I said that I had nothing to do with this?"
"No."
"Didn't think so."