A mortician? Oh goodie, someone who could mess with her body when she died. The old wolf gave a little nod, her head spinning a small groan escaped her lips. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” She told him. Between the burns on her belly hurting as if the fires of hell had singed her themselves, and whatever else was going on that made her feel sick, she was in no condition to improve. She kept her head on her leg, letting her green eyes close again. “The burns are one thing… Since encountering the weird spires… I’ve been having other symptoms too…” The fae confessed, wondering if that would drive the man away from treating her.
"Speech," 'Thought.'
Bellamy has two companions - a Tasmanian devil and an American badger. Unless otherwise mentioned IC, assume that they are close by.
Berserker
