[Mikleo visibly recoils from that volume of malevolence; the strange, shifting lights and shadows thrown by the soul around him twist and deform for a few seconds, a serpentine shape like the Dragon's or the Emperor's, with huge fins -- or are they malformed wings?

...but there is more than that here. he hangs onto that sense of unity and awareness of the water with a deathgrip, and the shape fades as soon as the planet removes the weight of its focus from them, leaving him as himself. still, his voice is a croak when he responds]

Thank you for the warning, too. We'll try our best to be careful.