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He is so close to the fire, to answers, his nose mere inches away when the flames disappear. He stops, mind reeling, wondering why the blaze was gone. why he hadn't been allowed to touch, to know. She seems equally upset, question and explanation rolling from her lips in serious tones. His head tilts, ears flicking uncertainly as she retreats and fidgets, seeming uneasy. Had he caused this? He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable, he was just curious, drawn to danger and the unknown. Perhaps he was too bold, reaching for her without asking permission, assuming that his actions would be acceptable.
Do you really wanna touch fire? He isn't sure how to respond, how to explain himself properly. The words are there, waiting in his mind and on his tongue, but the meaning will be lost the moment he speaks, thoughts and feelings translated poorly into a combination of sounds. He tries anyway. "I just want to know," and he is right, the words sound weak, do not convey the emotions, the yearning properly. She claims that the fire would have burned him, and though he doesn't much care for pain he finds himself imagining what the resulting scars would look like. Would his skin literally have melted away, leaving bone exposed to the elements? What if his entire face caught fire instead of just his muzzle? Would he look like his father if that happened, disfigured and grotesque, undead? His mother had always told him that he resembled his sire, but would this make him more like the zombie? Would his father be proud?
He almost asks Aurelia, but his mind is still lingering on her fire. Instead of inquires about melted flesh and the appearances of zombies, he utters a question about the inferno that had covered her. "Is it different?"
Kissing death and losing my breath
Slaiter
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