All in all, even in his delirious state, Arkash found Reiss to be someone of interest. She didn't seem like a thrall upon closer inspection, all her little movements seemed too natural to be the product of some Necromancer's planned personality, but he didn't really know how undead thralls worked. It seemed she wasn't a product of necromancy, but something else. Some sort of blight? A momentary wave of tension rolled over him when it struck him; she was a real person. Another rathor, caught in some permanently dead state, but animated. how was such a thing possible?
Despite his weariness and confusion, their conversation continued. He had to learn more about this wolf, who for all he could tell was in fact real.
She was very expressive, speaking strongly while she explained all the little things that Arkash had found curious. The horse, the tarp, her own name, the smell of seawater, all of it. That in itself was curious; she willingly subject herself to his interrogation without thought as to why he might ask such strange questions. Did she feel he was justified in interrogating her? Had she done something to be interrogated for?
A grin pulled at his lips when she became defensive of the observation that she 'enjoyed the ocean'. It was a strong scent about her, he almost couldn't smell any wolf on her at all; just algae, salt, and rotting meat. "It's a good smell," he lied effortlessly. "I've never been to the beach myself, but the saltwater that runs by 'town is nice."
His misty yellow eyes darted to the hand she placed in her lap, then back up at her. Even as she leaned back, she didn't pull her arm from his claws. She could have with ease, he imagined. She was several times his weight, even if she appeared to be falling apart. If she wanted to, she could have ripped her hand from his hold altogether, but she didn't. Arkash recognized that quirk consciously; some sort of friendly giant? He imagined the reason being that she didn't want to upset him. Why else would she leave her wrist in his claws?
He began to pick her apart in his head, as opposed to physically. He did think about breaking her skin with his claws, just to see if she truly couldn't feel it, but relented. Such would have been the nail in the coffin, confirming that she was, in fact, dead. Like a missing heartbeat, rotting flesh, and missing patches of her cheeks weren't enough proof, right? It was just difficult to fathom. He'd never even seen a thrall before, let alone an animated dead 'person'.
She confirmed that it didn't hurt. Such was obvious in hindsight; he could only imagine the sort of torment she would be under if she could feel her body rotting away, as all her organs broke apart and decayed. He wondered if she could smell herself. Could she feel anything at all? Or was pain the only sensation she was missing? Could she even smell? Arkash was accepting of her rotting flesh smell, but only because he'd lived in Nivenhain's sewers for a time; he was used to being surrounded by stinky things, and she wasn't anywhere near as bad as the sewers.
A necromancer though... Curious that Raphael was in fact a Necromancer. "Well... The guy I know is a Necrodoctor. He uses necromancy to repair the living, but I don't see why his stuff wouldn't work on you." Subtly, he brought up that she was dead again, even though she avoided it before. "If you come with me, I can try and get you an appointment with him, but..." he trailed off, thinking to himself. "...Nah, it should be fine. Are you up for it?"
She pressed on the subject of his mom, that stray thought he'd started to share but decided against. The Rathor shook his head, a burn stirring in the back of his throat. "It's nothing," he spoke with a sigh. "Just a dumb thought." If it really was just a dumb thought, then why didn't he share it? "...I was going to say 'but you can probably smell that', like I'd somehow still carry her scent... But that's ridiculous; she's been gone for years now." Such a thought somehow only further broke his heart. He really had nothing left of her, no heirloom or keepsake to think fondly on, not even her scent. All that was left of her was the memories he'd carry for however long a dranoch could remember the past and the ghost that still followed him.
"...But yeah," he spoke with the beginnings of a smile. "I can get you some necromancy if that's what you're looking for," he assured, even if he wasn't sure Raphael would help her. With that, he let go of her wrist, then carefully wobbled to his feet. Vertigo claimed him quickly, and he fell forward with a tumbling catch of his leg, only to straighten up and hold his head.
"Ah, fuck..." he cursed, squeezing his temples as that terrible migraine returned. Had he stood up too fast? "I'm fine," he assured another lie. "Might stop at the well on the way there though," he spoke with half a laugh. One claw covered his eye while the other squinted through the harsh sun as he turned to face her. "...Coming?"
