when his people arrived on this strange world, they had been looked down upon like monsters, like demons. their skin varying from hues of blue to violet, their horns, their tails, the cloven hooves where feet should be... it was all very frightening to races even the draenei had never seen before. and while these people did not look like orcs or act like orcs, they held the same hostility towards his kind.
at least, until the sky tore open. until they needed all the help they could get.
prayer book grasped tightly in one hand, the hilt of his hammer in the other, nobuir walks proudly through skyhold beneath judging eyes. they are waiting for him to slip up, to make one mistake that makes him fitting of the title of “monster” or “brute”.
they wait to condemn which they do not understand.
“seeker pentaghast, i presume,” nobuir says, accent thick but voice deep and smooth. she is much smaller than himself, but her gaze, the scars on her worn face - they betray that she has seen much, done much. things that she would have preferred to never have seen or done. they are alike in that way. “the inquisitor could not make time for this meeting?”
perhaps he shouldn’t have expected much else, yet the inquisitor and their advisers will soon know that the draenei are worthy allies to have. a talented people that have gone through more hardships than any of this world can imagine, but perhaps the elves could empathize more.