[ He keeps Clara tucked close, safely against him for a moment, where he can almost feel her heart rattling and pulsing around furiously in her chest. Then his hand comes to rest against the back of her head protectively until he's sure the raven is gone.

Its presence alone wouldn't normally unsettle him, but something cold passes through him as it flies near Clara. Something foreboding, something...beyond this place. Like the withered hands of time and fate reaching out for Clara; a pang like a sudden hole on his heart. His hold on Clara briefly tightens, even when he's sure the raven has gone. ]

[ Tenderly: ] You're bigger than you even know, Clara.

[ Just as quickly, though, he tips her head back slightly, gently, offering a smile of reassurance. ]

It's gone. Where's our friend Mr. Poe when you need him?

[ He looks around again in the air, though, just to be sure he can't see a raven flying close, or any other winged, beastly creature. And when he's sure, he tugs on Clara's hand again. A few steps further and he notes the change in atmosphere. ]

I can smell it...old death. Very old, very not fragrant, definitely not a perfume I'd recommend.