Ashamin didn't realize that when the fire left him, it would be so difficult to see. His pupils grew wide, but to any observer his eyes would appear fixed--entirely the same. He also hadn't expected to need to adjust so quickly, but the voice that he heard from behind him demanded attention. Lochan and Rakt had looked nervous before, but now--illuminated by some other gold light--they looked as if they had seen death. Since he no longer remembered what it was to fear, Ashamin turned to face it.

So it seemed that death was a Clydesdale, or a draft of some enormous sort, accompanied by a canine. Even the Clovenheart could not help but take a step back in shock, for he'd never seen a beast so large. But this creature, this death, shook and stuttered, apologized and moaned the cry of solitude. Did death not wish to carry out his duty, or was he only a mortal thing?

Having always been just a little bit stupid when it came to common sense, and knowing not what else to say, Ashamin just shook his head no and smiled. "Don't be," he said to the magnificent tower of a threat, to a creature taller than the gods who still lived. "I'm Ashamin," he said with little regard while his two companions panicked, each fearing some curse to fall upon their bonded, who so readily and foolishly gave his name.

The night was thick though, and its stench was one of muted power. With the flames reduced to nothing, and still apparently difficult to control, Ashamin felt a sort of helplessness that he expected extended even to his new gargantuan company. As if in response to the glowing gold of the stranger's marked eye, Ashamin's own chest, which so often glowed subtly, brightened its blue.

Leave, Rakt moaned across their bond, sending bloody splatters along with the word. The presence of the dog and the giant unsettled the red cerndyr to the point where he'd communicate, which meant something. Lochan, though, had stilled into something like acceptance. If Ashamin was calm, then the little eye would watch with as much ease as he could manage. The Clovenheart turned back to look at them for just a moment before looking back--and up--at the stranger.

"You must forgive my companions," Ashamin said coolly, still for some reason not scared. "They don't usually feel quite so dwarfed by the company I keep." his long tail swiped across the earth before curling around the spellbound antlers on the ground. Idly, he ran the length of it along the rough texture of the tines.

"Are you lost, or do you need shelter?" Ashamin asked, for he was the sort to welcome even death into his home. After all, he'd been dead before in a long distant dream. Somehow, it didn't seem so frightening anymore.

""

Ashamin