[ unless he is much mistaken, neither the red templars nor the venatori have managed to turn the wildlife into their personal spies. animals exposed to red lyrium become ugly, misshapen things, and this little fox is (adorable) unharmed, if, perhaps, lost.
he sheds the glamour with the ease that some men shed cloaks, and looks at the tiny fox with an ageless sort of curiosity that has him kneeling down and offering his fingers for inspection.
for all that the creature is not a pincushion of red crystals, it doesn't feel right. ]
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he sheds the glamour with the ease that some men shed cloaks, and looks at the tiny fox with an ageless sort of curiosity that has him kneeling down and offering his fingers for inspection.
for all that the creature is not a pincushion of red crystals, it doesn't feel right. ]