Koralheim looked up at Kala with his large, bronze eyes and too her arm. â€œI donâ€™t run like most people, Miss Kala. Iâ€™m usually quite busy and have places to be, you might imagine. Weâ€™ll travel my way, then.â€ he spoke into her mind.<br/><br/>He sped up his slightly limping stride to clasp onto Peteâ€™s leg â€œUnfortunately the horse will not be coming.â€ he added as something of an afterthought. Before there was much room for either other party to react, the most bizarre sensation of being sucked into yourself overwhelmed them, and with a snap, they were moving through the space between planes.<br/><br/>Sometimes, Koralheim advised that newcomers to the sensation of being turned into something they shouldnâ€™t be that perhaps they ought to close their eyes. Today, though, he was filled with an uncharacteristic impatience. Things were happening too quickly; despite all his planning he felt like things were spiraling just slightly out of control.<br/><br/>He could feel the tug of one of his anchors in Northpeak and, with a forceful tug that could be felt throughout their entire being, they lurched back into existence. Of course, the experience was far less disorienting for Koralheim who was used to the whole procedure.<br/><br/>â€œThe nausea should pass quickly.â€ Koralheim explained softly in Kalaâ€™s mind. â€œYou might wish to inform the human, as well. We are in Northpeak, now; my home here, actually.â€ the fishman added, walking across the rich wooden floors and, with a light flick, dispatching the little spider-machine from his wrist to scurry to the fireplace and set a spark to the prepared wood.<br/><br/>The room was rustic and warm in tone, with deep, redish-hued wooden walls and floors, great draperies of warm fur over some arranged furniture. It was well kept, tidy, and as Koralheim drew back the heavy, fur-lined curtains with a wince the cool-gray light of a city locked in almost perpetual winter shone through.<br/><br/>â€œIf you are will not be comfortable in the snow-laden wind, we ought to head to market; I can fund some proper clothing for you and the human, Miss Kala.â€ Koralheim explained, never turning from the window. In fact, he opened the large glass panel and stepped out onto a snow-covered balcony.<br/><br/>â€œAnd for your own sake, donâ€™t go opening any cabinets without my permission. If you could tell the human that not everything Iâ€™ve got stored here is harmless Iâ€™d greatly appreciate it. Teleportation tends to particularly rough on humans and those with weak stomachs. Hopefully heâ€™s stronger than he looks.â€<br/><br/>Koralheim turned slightly to the side so that Kala could see him, flashing a few quick signs as the tattoo on his arm shifted and warped into a new shape. â€œPerhaps next time Iâ€™ll not opt for the dramatic flair and properly warn you, but sometimes one simply needs to experience something to truly understand it.â€<br/><br/>Koralheim was distinctly aware of the sad truth of that statement. Hopefully he could limit the experiences to something as minor as this; he feared the suffering that was coming. He looked off to the side and across the city which, like many human settlements, seemed impossibly vast, a state of perpetual urban sprawl more than anything, and heard sharp screeches hidden on the winds; the battle cry of angels.<br/><br/>He made no mention of it and turned back inside, hands tucked behind his back as he waited for his two traveling companions to collect themselves. Perhaps the angels had another quarry in mind.