She really had to give the wight some credit - for an undead guy, he sure the hell put on a good show of working a cigar, all the way to managing a brief glowing orange tip, entirely without a single breath of life in whatever might be left of his lungs. Impressive indeed. And the sweet, heavy scent of the cigar smoke told her it wasn't really a blunt either, which didn't make the entire scene any less weird - far from it actually. Fine with her though really, Veti never liked that shit anyway. She swore her IQ dropped at least one point with every pull.

And though she'd have preferred to stick with a Marlboro Light with an ice cold draft beer, Veti got the distinct feeling this strange little ritual may have been something expected - or started - by the venerable werewolf before her. So Veti simply imitated her Russian friend with another shrug, and took the cigar from him as nonchalantly as she possibly could manage. 

She knew very well a cigar wasn't meant to be inhaled but she did anyway, the long drag she took hiding most of her genuine surprise and curiosity at Semyon's words, the only evidence of her muddled thoughts the deep furrow in her brow. Stopping the [i]world?[/i] What in heaven's name had she walked in on here?

Veti let the smoke from her lungs, tensing her tongue in the back of her throat and pursing her lips to a gentle "O", releasing the smoke ring to float gently toward the vaulted ceilings above. But it was the words he spoke next sent the rest of the cigar smoke in her lungs expelled in genuine shock. She simply couldn't stop the choking, hacking gasps, utterly undignified, every last cool point she'd ever tried to keep in front of the elder wolf lost utterly - but seriously!? Did Semyon honestly just say - 

[i]"Ragnarök!?"[/i] Veti wheezed when she could finally catch her breath, her eyes darting between demonspawn and wight and venerable elder alike.

[i]Damn it all to hell.[/i] And here she thought Thad had just been [i]kidding[/i] about having to save the whole world again.

Veti 's mouth fell open for a moment, stunned and utterly unsure who the hell should actually be getting the communal cigar next. She gave up trying to figure it all out, and simply set it down with shaking fingers on the edge of the cut lead crystal ashtray beside Nestor's chair, and let her head wrap around Semyon's words.

Few people might ever realize simply by first [granted, decidedly unconventional] appearances, that if the werewolf ever wished a career in academia, she'd have been entitled to the moniker "Dr. Blasko."

Twice over.

By the time she was 19-years old.

And one of those Ph Ds just [i]happened[/i] to be in the field of ancient Norse archaeology. Had she heard of Ragnarök? Of [i]course[/i] she had. She'd read the [i]Eddas[/i] - Poetic and Prose, understood the cosmology, done the field work, and even taken the time to learn the Icelandic language, the closest living language to the one spoken by the Vikings. 

But had she been let in on the plan about fending off the imminent coming of Ragnarök? Uh... Heh... That would be a giant goddamned [i]hell[/i] no!

"Ragnarök, as in... The Doom of the Gods Ragnarök ? The Loki and the Fenris wolf are set loose Ragnarök, where the Nine Worlds - including ours here on Midgard - are burned utterly, where Sköll devours the sun and Hati devours the moon? [i]That[/i] Ragnarök?" 

Veti smacked herself in the chest with a fist, coughing up the last of the cigar smoke with a growl. "Ah Semyon," she said, her voice gravelly with the hacking and smoke, "It's a fair guess that 'no,' no one let me in on that little tidbit either."