"Maybe how you do marriage makes heirs. Or airs. Does it make those too? Some folk go to the winds when they go and they're still around when you hear a wayward curse carried on them. 'sides only got your word for it don't I? I could sort that but it ain't like me and my titles.". Yngvi finally stops for a breath and to favour this alleged king with one of his knife-edge smiles. What comes of learning manners from strays and Orlesians ladies who by rights ought not to have survived the Game.
Some of that sounds like a reaver. Some of that sounds like a berserker. All of it conjures old stories and memories of times around campfires with drink and meat aplenty. The pain of it is so fierce, so sudden it steals his breath. The mask slides sideways and Yngvi can't quite look at Iskandar for a moment.
Good old Kirkwall senses to the rescue.
"Fully human. Explain. In detail. I'm interested in that because how even.". Is he a demon? Is he dead? Should he poke him like he did that weird tree in Orlais? Fuck it, he's leaning over to poke with a short grubby finger.
no subject
Some of that sounds like a reaver. Some of that sounds like a berserker. All of it conjures old stories and memories of times around campfires with drink and meat aplenty. The pain of it is so fierce, so sudden it steals his breath. The mask slides sideways and Yngvi can't quite look at Iskandar for a moment.
Good old Kirkwall senses to the rescue.
"Fully human. Explain. In detail. I'm interested in that because how even.". Is he a demon? Is he dead? Should he poke him like he did that weird tree in Orlais? Fuck it, he's leaning over to poke with a short grubby finger.