GOAT

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Really, it hadn't been intentional. He had been messing with the goats because well -- why not? He had been getting close to spook them only to pull back when they got too angsty, all the while cracking a Grin. He hadn't meant to get as close as he had and infuriate the big bastard. It just... happened and if you asked him, he was the victim here. "Bloody menace," he grumbled to the goat who looked awfully smug where he stood upon his rocky ledge in the distance, Olaf's boyish features in a point.

If he could, he would rub his bum better. It was likely bruised! Being rammed into when you least expect it wasn't entirely joyful and he had slid a fair distance before the rocky ground resisted and there he had remained, huffing into the ground. "Next time, right, I'll eat you," he declared as he snorted, shaking his head as he drew himself dramatically across the terrain. ^^

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There were mountain goats.

Billy goats.

Shaggy and white and heavyset with dark, pointed, curved horns atop their heads. Black eyes pointing outwards.

Watching him watch them.

His ears twitched at the sound of something blunt hitting something flesh, and the skittering of stone and paws against rock and dirt and grass, and the sound of someone talking to themselves.

The source of it all making themselves known when he stormed by in front of him, tall and dark.

He made a face that was somewhere between disapproval and like he had just swallowed a lemon. His ears splayed back against his head as he watched him walk by.

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^^

Amongst the neutrals of the mountains lay something different, gold and furry and not at all a silly goat that didn't know how to not ram their silly horns into him. He hadn't anticipated looking at him watching him but Olaf seemed to switch up entirely, instead of sulking his demeanour swiftly changed to puffy chest and a swagger in his step as he cast the golden man a grin, "what's up, handsome?"

'Cause he was, all golden and tan and red eyed and shit. He didn't look overly happy but eh, Olaf was a case where he was just perpetually on it. ^^

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And like a cat that was just fucking doused in water—

His entire expression changed.

From boredom and apathy to anger and rage.

Seriously, what the fuck was his fucking problem?

He didn’t fucking know him.

He didn’t even fucking want to fucking know him.

And yet there he was, standing tall, his chest puffed out, with a stupid fucking smirk on his face like he was the fucking smartest man on earth instead of a sad, pathetic, fucking loser.

“Fuck off, asshole.” He spat.

He wasn’t fucking interested.

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^^

Goddamn, was everyone on this mountain so fiery? Olaf's blackened lips tilted with a rumbling laugh, a pouty look casting upon his black and white face not long after. "Aw, come on," he cooed, "can't give a man a break after he just got his ass rammed into by a goat?" He swept his tail to the side with a bat of his eyes, pouting to the golden treasure as he drew one silvery paw across the uneven terrain.

"Ain't usually what I like to be touching me, y'know?" he sighed dramatically, wondering if this foul-mouthed man would be anything but. He couldn't deny that he had liked it, though, thinking that maybe it was the personality of the mountain. Momentarily he thought of Orlaith and how she had been fiery, too.

^^

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“Go fuck yourself, creep.” He said, his voice flat.

His ears splayed back against his head.

He was fucking done, already turning tail to leave.

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^^

"Come on~" he chimed, wagging his tail. Undeterred, Olaf's orange gaze was steady upon the angry man as he looked ready to go. "I think I look more like an Olaf than a creep," the titan hummed in thought, mischief written on his features. "I'd guess your name but I reckon I'd get more than a fuck off, if I got it wrong," Olaf mused, raising a brow. ^^

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And without missing a beat—

“Eat shit.”

He didn't fucking care what his name was. He could've been fucking named Oaf for all he fucking cared enough to pay attention.

He had better fucking things to do, like leave his slobbering mouth the fuck behind.

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