A rogue, a thug, and a thief. Now fighting for the safety of all.

[highwaywarrior]

WHO: Dismas and you!
WHAT: Just hanging out by himself and reducing that stress.
WHEN: 11th of the Firstfall
WHERE: Courtyard, heading to the Herald's Rest
NOTES: Possible language, nothing to really note right now but will change if something happens.

The road back to Skyhold was long, tiring and he could still feel the sludge from the swamp in his boots. Of all of the places to be sent, it just had to be a cold, muddy swamp. Dark and foreboding and crawling with the undead, not somewhere that Dismas wanted to be.

Though the Inquisition's current base of operations, wasn't exactly all that homely either. The glares and obvious looks mistrust that he received would be obvious, he didn't really blame any of them either. Not when some of those people could have been people that he robbed on their way to Skyhold or elsewhere.

But really he couldn't care much about their opinions on him, a bandit now part of Inquisition forces. Really the only reason why he had stuck around was due to the promise of pay and not getting strung up by his captors turned employers. Every hand is needed right now, after all. And after experiencing the last, great catastrophe to face the lands of Thedas, Dismas figured that he rather liked the world as it is right now.

"Home sweet home." He grunted to the person next to him.

Comments

[dairsmuid]

Elian looks at him, then looks away.

It isn't distaste. At least, it isn't pure distaste. He's Rivaini; they like their pirates, and it's hard to be too hypocritical about land-based thieves. But he's also a former Templar, with all the moralizing and duty, and now an Inquisition soldier, and sharing the fortress and regalia with common thieves takes a little bit of the fun out of it all.

So it's part distaste. A small part. It's also that he's shy and awkward and not immediately sure that the man is speaking to him or that it's the sort of thing that requires an answer. He needs a moment to say, "They've cleaned up quite a lot since we left," tone polite and distant; immediately afterwards, he decides it was rhetorical after all and feels stupid.

But it's too late now. He's standing by one of the courtyard fires, trying to get his iced-over cloak off before the ice melts and soaks through to his other clothes, and he gives the thief a very small smile.

[highwaywarrior]

"Hm, I do enjoy not having to use a pile of ruined rubble as a pillow." He remarked back. He wasn't really aiming for anyone in particular, but it did help to break the monotone silence amid the bustling of refugees and vendors come to pedal their wares. He wasn't really expecting an answer either, if anything he was expecting the rest of the group to slowly slink away from him, leaving Dismas alone to his own devices.

Perhaps it would be best for them to stick close by. That way he won't be blamed for any missing purses or persons. Not that he would, there's too many eyes around to cause any mischief.

A thin smile of his own was made, though it would be hidden from behind his neckerchief.

[dairsmuid]

For people who already struggle to understand when people are being friendly or not, smile-covering neckerchiefs are the sort of thing that pose a problem. Fortunately, even Elian can't take the rubble pillow thing too seriously. He pauses grappling with his cloak to almost laugh--not quite, more of a huff.

"You might miss it," he says. "They might not be giving out pillows to replace it."

[highwaywarrior]

"Well then I will just have to fashion one out of mud and snow. Or see if any of the women around here would mind a bit of company." He wouldn't mind that either. Spending time on the dusty road and in the wilderness tended to leave men feeling a bit...dry. Wine, woman and the pleasures of life was what he needs right about now.

Or perhaps a hot bath.