WHO: Gwen, Adalia + Guilfoyle & Mystery Guest WHAT: Gathering a rare herb. WHEN: Some time this month, handwavily. WHERE: The Nadashin Marshes. NOTES: n/a
It's a pleasure, is the sort of thing that Margaux says, when she's taking the piss out of people who say that. The pattern of manners doesn't elude Alan now so much as disinterest him. He steps sidelong, and the answering tip of his own head is half an effort to observe: He sizes up Guilfoyle's blades, Adalia's — lack of them —
"Hello," Alan decides, after a moment too long. A glance to their horses, restless for his arrival, "I'll travel above you, there are teeth coming south."
That's an intelligible thing to say to other human beings.
"We can stable the horses in Val Foret, borrow a boat from there." His tone shifts, more animated. "You have the painter now? In Kirkwall?"
no subject
"Hello," Alan decides, after a moment too long. A glance to their horses, restless for his arrival, "I'll travel above you, there are teeth coming south."
That's an intelligible thing to say to other human beings.
"We can stable the horses in Val Foret, borrow a boat from there." His tone shifts, more animated. "You have the painter now? In Kirkwall?"
What else does Solas do, really.