[ Claude huffs out a breath, feeling the chill settle over his shoulders like a blanket, the sensation of being watched crawling up his spine, unease growing in the pit of his gut. His arms, covered by fabric, still prickle with goosebumps. It's not a fear response so much as it is a physical response, he realizes with growing discomfort. ]

I've felt this before... or something like this. This is dark magic. I never much liked when it was cast on me back home either.

[ Yeah, some people felt like it beat the hell out of being whacked by a training axe for the eighth time that day, but it had always unsettled him. The way you just felt achey, tired, cold afterwards, the way it followed you like a miasma until you got a proper night's rest, something that Claude wasn't particularly inclined to do even at his best.

He holds one arm out, motioning for Ange to get some distance - no point in both of them getting attacked at once - before peering further into one of the cracks, tapping his sword inside one of them to see if he can't inspire whatever's in there to come out. ]

Could be more of those snakes. Hope you're wearing your stomping shoes.