[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: The Great Forest]
"Why are you not answering?" Grimm asked again, and it sounded almost sincere. He stared at the lion's still-tense form, blade held loosely at his side, as though they were pausing mid-conversation rather than mid-kill. "You understand speech and you understand intent. So use that mind of yours. I'm quite curious about that ability of yours, and I'd prefer you satisfy that curiosity before I'm forced to take you apart piece by piece."
The lion's lips peeled back. A low growl rolled out, thick enough to vibrate the dead branches around them. Its golden eyes narrowed further, its gaze murderous.
Grimm's helmet tilted slightly, like he was listening for a more articulate response.
"And," Grimm continued, voice calm, "it seems it's affecting me to an increasing degree. My movements feel sluggish. Like my body is being forced to move through something denser than air. I would like to understand what you are doing to me."
