Dragoncrest Cliffs get a hold of yourself

It was clear her thoughts were addled, Njord observed, as she regarded the fish with a doped expression. She mumbled another word, Fiskur, and Njord couldn’t help but chuckle a bit – maybe a defense mechanism to lighten the mood. “Aye, fish,” he said slowly, annunciating well. How funny that their languages had similar sounds.

Njord waited for the woman to take a bite, but she only stared blankly – jaw loose and skin drooping. His ears turned back, unsure. “Ah, let me ‘elp ya, lass.” He bent over then and placed a paw on the fish to hold it steady as he gingerly shredded it into bitesize chunks. The man felt determined to care for this stranger – a gaping hole unfilled by the trauma of not being able to help Haunt in the same way.

He picked up a small sliver and dangled it by her mouth, brushing her lips with the fish in the hope to instigate the need to eat.