[ They're a ragtag little bunch, that's for certain, but there are a few remarkably brave souls among them who do try to include him in the conversation as they march along. In particular Sera, the elf girl with messy blond hair, doesn't seem to have much in the way of personal boundaries when it comes to asking questions. But in truth, her blunt demeanor makes him chuckle more than anything, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear the beardless dwarf was taking notes as he answered her inane questions.
The other magic-users in the party seem less enthused by his presence. The statuesque woman with the fabulous cheekbones says nothing to him at all and seems to be trying to ignore him out of existence, and the bald elf doesn't appear overeager to speak to him either. The third mage, a fantastically handsome creature as mortals go, at least knows how to carry a good banter back and forth. He and the bullish looking man -- a Qunari, he finds out as they chat -- make for the most pleasant company of the bunch.
No, the truly unnerving one is that pale boy in the hat, who stares at him with milky eyes and then creases his brow as though suddenly feeling pity for the dragon. He's not sure where that look came from, but he quickly finds cause to turn his attention elsewhere. And then, before long, they're within line of sight for the massive keep.
Everyone seems to be settling in to wait for a spell, and Wrathion moves up to stand nearest to Lasulahn. Out in the cold like this, it's possible to notice that even in mortal form, the dragon actually seems to radiate heat like the low burn of a campfire. ]
There are. Especially to the north. They are not my favorite, as places to be go.
[ Regardless, he does still seem to be smiling, but more relaxed. As if that's simply the way his face naturally falls at rest, into a slightly knowing smirk. ]
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The other magic-users in the party seem less enthused by his presence. The statuesque woman with the fabulous cheekbones says nothing to him at all and seems to be trying to ignore him out of existence, and the bald elf doesn't appear overeager to speak to him either. The third mage, a fantastically handsome creature as mortals go, at least knows how to carry a good banter back and forth. He and the bullish looking man -- a Qunari, he finds out as they chat -- make for the most pleasant company of the bunch.
No, the truly unnerving one is that pale boy in the hat, who stares at him with milky eyes and then creases his brow as though suddenly feeling pity for the dragon. He's not sure where that look came from, but he quickly finds cause to turn his attention elsewhere. And then, before long, they're within line of sight for the massive keep.
Everyone seems to be settling in to wait for a spell, and Wrathion moves up to stand nearest to Lasulahn. Out in the cold like this, it's possible to notice that even in mortal form, the dragon actually seems to radiate heat like the low burn of a campfire. ]
There are. Especially to the north. They are not my favorite, as places to be go.
[ Regardless, he does still seem to be smiling, but more relaxed. As if that's simply the way his face naturally falls at rest, into a slightly knowing smirk. ]