Nova Peak i have had horrible nightmares ever since

geist flinches at the woman's touch. he recoils back as if she is flame given life; licking at his flames. he can tell from her body language that she does not mean him harm ...but he's only ever been close with so few. mutter. rabe. rabe, more than any other. a stranger's touch sends tingles of unease thru ravaged nerve endings and his lips curls back. do not touch me is what the gesture says. bizarrely, though he cannot understand her gibberish — for that is what common largely is to him — geist feels a twist of shame in his gut, weighing heavily in his chest. her tone, though he understands not the words, are composed of a soft pitying tone that reminds him a bit of his mother.

though he does not allow her to touch him again, geist does allow her herding of him back to the dancing emeralds and steady browns of the sundappled woods. the fairytale just before the horror. though the smoke of his flashback has began to fade, slowly, like the ache of a heartbeat beneath a bruise; geist takes greedy gulps of air that has always been fresh and clean, all the same. he no longer feels as if he is once more choking upon ash and smoke. burning wood, leaves, and flesh; his own mingling with the flesh of the unfortunate woodlands.

his heart still thrums wildly within it's prison of flesh'n'bone all the same; mis-matched grey gaze wildly eyeing her now that he does not fear to look upon her so. he does not trust himself to find the volume to speak and so he settles unnerving gaze upon her, expectant.