He's watching her shifting shadow, the dark seeping across the ground like water. Playfully, it forms a rather... unintimidating lion. If a lion could /classify/ as a kitten with unruly fluff. Not her /proudest/ piece of work.
she makes shadows dance with little more than a twitch of her fingers, and even he cannot say that it is not impressive (if not just the slightest bit unnerving, for in all of his time with the inquisition, with the templars, he’s never come across magic like hers -- if it could, in fact, be called such a thing). from a shapeless, dark mass, to what appeared to be a lion ... or something akin to it, as the form the commander looks upon is hardly so intimidating. he’s intrigued, nevertheless, and he cannot seem to stifle the chortle that escapes his lips as the creature dances about the shadowy plane, his brow arching slightly. whether or not she meant to create it this way has yet to be seen; somehow, however, he gets the idea that it was supposed to be far more menacing.
" i suppose that’s one way to keep yourself entertained. that one there .. it’s meant to be a LION, isn’t it? “
