It's a strong grip from the start, but Zevlor expected that. This man is one of the biggest he's seen. He rivals Halsin, but there's a stark difference in the way they move, the way they interact with the world around them that makes Kael seem like a walking threat, while Halsin is more like an immense tree, or a sleepy bear, a part of nature. Kael stands out, like he's not meant to be a part of the world he's in. There's somewhere else, somewhere dark and jagged and red, that he belongs to.

But he's not there now, and his actions have always been reasonable, even kind, towards Zevlor and his kin, and so he ignores the primal unease and just lets him hold on.

"Often, when someone is getting lost in their own head, it helps for them to interact with their surroundings on a basic, sensory level. Feel the earth under your feet, how your toes fit into your boots. Listen to the leaves rustle, breathe in the air, feel how it's cool when you inhale and then warms up inside your lungs. Smell the woodsmoke from the bonfire."

"It doesn't always work, but it's a distraction that can help calm you."

He feels the squeeze to his arm. He's wearing splint mail, but his bracers are mostly leather. It occurs to him that he's put himself in danger of having his arm broken, which is a wild thought to have in a quiet conversation by the water. His own grip tightens, as if to meet a subtle challenge, and the tips of his claws press against Kael's sleeve, as if to remind the both of them they're there. But he doesn't let go or back away, and his expression remains calm, fearless.

"If it were muscle pain, I'd recommend compresses or massage, but I'm not sure that will work for your head. I'm afraid you're a mystery that will take time to unravel, my friend."