Nova Peak i have had horrible nightmares ever since

a flame moves across the blackened and scarred landscape; singular as it draws ever nearer. a flash of a figure that is distinctly wolf is photographed like the quick snap of a camera's shutter in his widened pupils before he sees the blackened landscape go up in sweltering flame; belching thick plumes of smoke and ash. glowing embers float by him, stinging his eyes. he blinks rapidly, breath rattling from his lungs like they are still full of smoke and ash and he retches in front of the she-wolf. in the stubborn clutches of his episode he expects the contents of his stomach to be black.

instead, it is normal in color — mostly spittle.

she asks him something in common but geist cannot keep his gaze upon her. he does not wish to look upon her fiery pelage. at least, not here. and yet, try as he might to will his legs to move they feel like iron bolted to the forest floor; refusing to move.

he does not answer her, because while he can glean a rough assumption from the tone she used: mild concern upon an accent that sounds as foreign to him as the common she uses ...he does not think he could find his voice regardless; ravaged by the hellfire as his body.