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[color=5b8a9a]Location:[/color] The Library
[color=5b8a9a]Grimore:[/color] N/A
[color=5b8a9a]Skills:[/color] N/A
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Worry was an emotion Nicholas was well acquainted with. Fear. Concern. Insecurity. All these things warned of danger lurking in the edges of the night, gun barrels and holy swords at the ready, the endless cycle of violence they witnessed without cease. It was his warning to move, to vanish from the annals of history, and reinvent themselves anew. It was a hair trigger. He’d once up-ended their lives because a woman had looked a minute too long at his brother, a guard asked a question with the strangest intonation, a tavern keep showed the faintest flicker of recognition and he’d never questioned it, never paused even a moment, before their scant few belongings were whisked away, those they couldn’t bring burned or broken or scattered to the depths of the ocean. Looking at Callaghan, transfixed by whatever slept beneath words, Nicholas felt his hackles raise, a chill run down his spine, the desire to survive on wind and foot alone burning in him like a pyre to this life they’d built. There were so many people, so many places, so many ways to disappear - it would be easy…

And instead he found himself on his feet, circling around the table and bringing his hands up to still Callaghan’s head. He felt like someone else, like his body moved without him, like he could himself from the outside looking in, as he pressed his fingers gently against Callaghan’s temples and worked his fingers lightly in soft circles back towards his ears and up again. His instincts screamed at him, screamed there was danger, screamed that it was unsafe, and yet here he was, offering comfort to someone other than his brother. It was akin to a dream, that nothing felt quite real, and he found himself murmuring concerned reassurances to the dragon. His own fingers trembled as he tried to offer some succor from whatever assailed the shifter. 

[color=5b8a9a]“I know not what things there were - I felt movement beneath the words, a brushing of strange magic I know not. Perhaps it is best we lay aside this book until we all can bring our focus to bear.”[/color] Nicholas offered softly, barely speaking above a whisper to avoid agitating the shifter’s head. He did not know what affliction the book laid upon Callaghan, so he sought to avoid exacerbating anything that may arise. [color=5b8a9a]“Are you alright? Do you wish for a tonic or a curative? Do you feel any strange compulsions or urges? Do you see or hear anything unexpected at the moment? Perhaps I shall call on someone more suited to curses.”[/color]