(no subject)

[samahl]

WHO: Cyril and Mac
WHAT: Cyril meets another Qunari
WHEN: Evening
WHERE: Tavern
NOTES: None yet.

Cyril had had a mostly successful day at his stall. He had sold enough traps to have a good amount of gold. He was planning to save some of it, of course, but there was some of it that could be spent in the tavern. He found himself there towards the end of the day.

He scanned over the room and took in any familiar faces. He found one that belonged to another Qunari that he had seen around but hadn't spoken to yet. Which was a real shame, because Mac was beautiful and deserved to be admired.

After a moment, he went over to the stranger and smiled up at him. "You look like you could use a drink. My treat?"

Comments

[spaceswan]

"I am indeed a Rifter from space!" Mac laughed, cocking his head to the side and smirking in his amusement. It never got old, being a novelty here where his ilk was fairly commonplace back home.

"Ahh, that. Yes, well, it didn't actually fuse to my head," he amends a bit sheepishly, gesturing vaguely to his horns. "I don't actually have horns where I'm from. I'm, uh, more streamlined. Just imagine me as I am sans horns and that's me back home. But I had a helmet on with these very same horns prior to my arrival and it looks like the magic couldn't make heads or tails of me and spit me out in one solid piece or something. Not that I'm complaining, really. They get in the way of everything and make it bloody hard to lay on my side, but past that, they're friggin' awesome," the Guardian grinned, reaching up and smacking the coiled sides of his gold-coated horns.

"I'm pretty eager to headbutt someone, not gonna lie."