you can't offer your poison to me
in your kingdom of filth

Lungs burn with effort as massive body crashes through the smogless arena, bamboo slapping against his hide as hooves thunder through the moist earth and kick mud up against his flanks. Lantern orange eyes are wild, ears disappearing backwards into the thick curls of his forelock and wind-tangled mane. Sweat flecks on his shoulders and flanks, threatening foam as he charges onward towards their meeting spot. It had been so simple, his mind agonizes, and he hates himself for how afraid he feels in that moment. This was never supposed to happen. This, whatever this was...Wrath was supposed to be there with Kratos if anything like this went down. His skin crawls with the undeniable allure of magic, and his nostrils are flared and tinged with red as his eyes succumb to ivory. 

Wrath does not love. Wrath is fury and carnage and strict, militaristic precision. He does not falter, his only weakness his mortality.

But Jaeger...Jaeger loves. It's a shitty kind of love, what he offers, and he's never deluded himself of that. But Kratos, the stubborn little shit, had somehow buried himself deep into the withered folds of Jaeger's heart. And he fears for the first time in his life, because this is something huge - apocalyptic. The thought of losing Kratos is terrifying, and he is roiling with his fear, so profound and alien to him. He'd risked everything to get Kratos away from their fucked up world, and if it had done nothing but lead him into danger...he'd never be able to forgive himself. 

He comes upon chaos.

It's sad to say he's used to it, that his body thrums with adrenaline and his mind sharpens as the battlefield writhes before him like a sentient being. And there amongst them, he sees Kratos get thrust through the air, seeming to collide with another pair of beasts. Jaeger's mind goes a little blank with fury, and in his eyes the Goddess is nothing but another disease ridden parasite, just like all the other Gods that he has ever known. He doesn't know anything else, he has arrived too late to be given the knowledge that she is actually one of the good ones. All he can feel is disgust, watching as the wolf god and its shadowy minions terrorize and spread throughout the land like an infection. "KRATOS!" he bellowed, momentary pause behind him as his legs thunder across the ground as if he draws the chariot of the finest hunters behind him into the battle. But he has taught Kratos everything he knows, or at least a decent part of it. It is a conflict, a warzone in his chest. Wrath wins out.

There are two of us and two of them. Think, Jaeger. 

He diverts from his path.

Wrath charges for one of the replica wolves, eyes flashing and head lowered to try and smash into its side, hoping to get it to the ground where his massive hooves could finish the job.

Let us get through this alive, he thought grimly.