The woman's smile waned, drawing from her lips in a deep exhale as the ghost of mirth dissolved on her tongue. She drifted closer, now beside him, close enough that the damp mist around his contorted form brushed the hem of her dark figure.

A boisterous snort occupied the silence that drifted momentarily between them.

"Come now, soul-wanderer" She pried, "There is little left for you here. No sweetness in that ruin. Only maggots who whisper lies when they burrow near your ear."

Niriel's dark eyes shifted with an uncanny drag, flickering with a subtle pause until she once again met the gaze of his hunched form.

A paw, swarthy and slender, pressed against his mud-slick shoulder.

"Breathe. Just once. Like you had before. The fog's pestilence consumed your good sense, but you have not forgotten now, have you?" Her final words drifted lowly, as if mimicking the internal dialogue the brute required.

Her voice softened to an almost lover’s hush, coaxing the stubborn beast amidst the fog.

"Come, sweet carrion-bird. Look at me. There is fresher meat above ground, and it is yours,"

And now, with a tilt of her head and stoic grace, she added,

"Or do you fear what you’ll hunger for, once the grave's hold loosens?"