Neverwinter Forest he wanted love, i taste of blood

Chasing sleep is akin to running after a healthy bird; unreachable, with jaws chomping on air much more than any wing. He lays awake. Pale gold eyes stinging, bags layering underneath, and lips twisted into a foul frown—energy spent breathing and keeping the expression alive.
The entirety of his back ablaze, coursing through in a way he hasn’t experienced in awhile. It brings back memories he’d rather forget. The sensation of pain is normal, but this feels like defeat—like a wildfire spreading and wreaking havoc on whatever lays in it’s path.
Ghost jolts awake. At first, Kratos thinks he’s just stirring in his rest again, since his muscles have been twitchy. Maybe a bad dream.
His name is the cue though.
Zephyr.