Sindri was not in the slightest appalled by his own appearance. Was he frustrated with the changes? Yes. It was discouraging to find himself changed in a way that was so far removed from how he viewed himself. But, he knew full well that it couldn’t be helped. Turning into a dragon was an unnatural process, but not entirely uncommon for dwarves. He felt relieved to have kept his mind in tact during the process, though.
None of it mattered anyways. One of these days he’d just become a dragon and lose himself. And what would that leave him with?
He didn’t care about the child before him. But, her anxious tone of voice was enough to make him empathize. At least, he was trying to empathize. Sympathy was probably the better word for it.
The snarl never left his features, even as his tone of voice shifted into something gentler. He took in her appearance with a sharp gaze. The scarring did not deter him. He’d seen far worse injuries in his years of existing. His own bloodied appearance gave him no reason or room to judge based on looks alone. Maybe it was the way she smiled with such excitement at being acknowledge, or the way she fiddled with the toy, or maybe it was because her eyes shone with a sense of both fear and wonder. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was exactly, but—
—She reminded him of Eydis in far too many ways. Which led him to think about Brok.
Sindri winced, but did want the heartache to show on his face at the thought of his kin. Not right now.
He’d never heard the surname before. Sindri had known many people in his five centuries of life. Despite his grief and lack of care for others, he never forgot the names of those he’d met. Dwarven memory allowed for that, he supposed.
Furrowing his brow, Sindri listened to the girl explain her plight. He knew full well that the girl must’ve been lost from the get go. Nobody came around to the Temple anymore. Nobody even knew he was here. Except maybe Kratos or Lúnda. He had never seen Shireen before. Not that she didn’t belong here, either. It wouldn’t be fair to assume as such. Yet, the way she spoke about being lost pointed him to the very real fact that she might not even be from this part of the Nine.
“But I do not know how I will get back to my mother alone.”
The snarl faded from his lips at the comment, and the draconic dwarf set down his hammer. Sindri knew better than anyone the importance of kin, of family. He had done everything in his power for centuries to protect his younger brother, and done everything to ensure Brok never was lost again. Well look how well that turned out…
He didn’t help people anymore. That wasn’t something he did. Brok was dead, Eydis was missing. How was he supposed to help in this situation? Something inside Sindri coiled like a venomous snake ready to bite. The moral Dillon’s of aiding Shireen to find her way home, and turning a blind eye because he didn’t care about some lost kid fought within him.
Ultimately, though, it was the former than won out in the end. With a defeated sigh, Sindri ran his hand across his scaled face, nodding his head.
“…. I’ll try to help you, kid. I just—”
He wouldn’t make a promise. He couldn’t let his heart open like that again. Even to a child that reminded him of his kin. So he didn’t smash her hope, but he didn’t guarantee it was worth putting faith in him, either. He wasn’t worth that. At least, he didn’t think he was worth it.
“Can’t guarantee to you that I’ll be able to… help.”
Shireen watched Sindri’s movements out of the corner of her eye, saw how the man seemed to argue with himself and felt a sick wave of guilt at being the cause of such strife. “Thank you. It is all right, ser. I would much rather hear the truth and have it be cold and real, than a pretty lie that proves horribly false in the end. I don’t expect you to work miracles, or to put in huge effort, to get me home. My being here, in your place, is unfair enough to you as it is. I am glad you didn’t… give me false reassurance-“ she had heard more than enough of that from her own kin these last few weeks – “and won’t hold it against you if things prove too onerous.”
She paused, looking down to her stag that was never far from her hands. “Truthfully, I’m just happy to have met someone who answered my call for help. That is… a great comfort to me on its own.” Selyse, her mother, had tried, but no one else had. Everyone had merely… stared at her as fear had gnawed its way through her gut. They had only moved to prevent her mother attempting to save her, but had otherwise not intervened.
That many had come for her the following night had soothed her somewhat, but her heart still ached at the memory all the same.
“It is… truly all right, ser. Regardless of what happens, I am grateful to have met and to be speaking with you. It is a relief, however long it lasts, to not be alone.” As comforting as she found the dark of recent, and how safe her own company had felt, she could not deny an element of sadness, of loneliness, to everything of late. And there was no cause for remorse in Sindri’s gaze upon her, he had had no role in her execution. It allowed her to breathe easier in a way she hadn’t realized she had missed to not see that rueful pity in her company’s eyes.
“And, if and when I do get back to mother, I’ll make sure that your kindness is not forgotten.”
Even if he wasn’t the one to deliver her home, and she had to find him once more, she would still make sure of that. She was determined to not be her father, to not cast aside those who had been a support to her. The child would remember Sindri and see him properly thanked for his aid now, whether that be small or large.
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