Barrow Fields At least that’s what I could read

a look of mighty alarm flushed his features as the sylph untwisted herself from the ragged syncopations of an anxiety attack. if he didn't know any better he would have thought there actually was a fire--what with her hypervigilant, doe-eyed expression and the way she panted as she breathlessly addressed his question with a seeming lack of ability to parse the dramatization therein.

"sense what?" he followed her gaze with a loyalty that indicated some raging curiosity. screwing up his eyes, he scoured the blanched landscape encompassing them for the source of her distress. if he wasn't mistaken, she was being pursued by one of lovecraft's machinations, for he saw and sensed a grand amount of nothing.

he darted his gaze back to the fear-stricken girl. "do you know you're by the coast?" he asked. occultism wasn't exactly unheard of on and around this parish, and those without the intent to partake or observe would be surely unsettled. this blow-in, however, appeared to be less unnerved and more like... outright blood-curdled, by something or someone. "were you separated from your pack?"