Dec 12, 2018
The hour was early. Early enough for Iron Bull to be a creature of monosyllabic grunts and sleep-stiffened movement. The verbal repartee and fighter’s grace would have to come later, after some stretching and a proper breakfast. Mmm, Nug Bacon Sarnie...
Clearing his throat, the Qunari rubbed the itch from his empty eyesocket and settled his patch in place over the tanglework of scars. He drew a deep inhalation from the crip morning air, subconsciously scenting the camp for the smoke of breakfast fires...