dryadalismagicae:
To find company so far out within the wilderness at such a time of afternoon was entirely uncommon unless one was Dalish and camping within a clan; but no such thing lay near and indeed the accent of which reached his pointed ears was not one of his own origins but somewhere that struck fear and dread into his very soul.
Four years it had been since he had tasted freedom from within the strangling grasp of slavery. Fourteen years, almost to the day, that he had witnessed his mother’s murder at the hands of a mage. Call it a sick twist of fate to suddenly be within the company of an apparent mage from Tevinter.
Though his consciousness cried out for him to run or stand an attack, Lyrian listened to the logic within his mind and dipped his staff just enough to offer a supposed white flag. The dalish was already injured from an earlier attack, he need not use energy he did not have battling when he need not. Needless to say, he was still frightfully cautious as all alarm bells within his consciousness continued to chime.
“There are not often many such as you within the wilderness.” He uttered, calming his racing heart though his emerald eyes still carried a sheen of pure fear. “…I can only imagine that you’ve been derailed, somehow.” That or perhaps the other had developed a taste for the outdoors, but judging by his choice of footwear, his well groomed hair and styled facial hair… he was not seeking mother nature’s blessing.
Then again; Lyrian himself hardly looked as if he should have been there with dried blood underneath his nose, another to the side of his forehead and indeed, many, many bruises underneath clothing.
“The… better pathways lie near the battlements…” he then suggested, glancing at the others footwear: “…But such places are perhaps best left be when so close to nightfall.”
He tried his best to be polite. Calling upon every ounce of charisma and charm he had in him when he saw the pointed ears and snowy white head of this stranger. This was certainly just his luck. To have run into an elf (a Dalish from the looks of things) while on his own and having just suffered an attack. Though perhaps he could still spin this towards his favor and make it out mustache intact.
Lips pulling upwards in a smile, he let the hum of power in his staff die down to nothing and came to a stop some ways away from the elf just to give the other some space. He’d rather not draw any kind of attack from the other or any of his friends that might be hiding among the foliage. One never knew with the Dalish, after all.
“Your imagining is sadly only too correct, my dear.” He said, tone even and calm as he leaned against his staff for support. Even to one not used to the wilderness, it was obvious that Dorian wasn’t one to seek out the wild on purpose. “Yes... those battlements were quite convenient for helping me keep track of the right way to go. Sadly... they also seem to be right on the edge of a giant’s territory and that giant was not too happy when the caravan I was traveling with tried to go by on our merry way.” The mage sighed, hand wiping his brow as he looked skyward to try and see if he could pinpoint where the sun was.
