((I yet again find myself humbled by your praise Tysy, thank you.
But I seriously hope our singular interactions don't scare off the other two. I don't want this RP dying from interaction abuse
"I see. If you've earned your life by your wits, then you certainly have far more wits than the rest of your darkspawn brethren. If I may say so, all they've ever done to my kind is...charge, kill, and feed. This time, I was the one who made the opening move against you, and I paid for it. I beg your...pardon?"
She stopped briefly.
"Ouurumm-you charged. Attempted to kill. Rrrr-feed off my death, to grow your prodigy. Being the foe, to beat the foe, is as evil as sin. Lessons. Humility. Difficultly learned; beautiful, rrrumm-and valuable," he told her in earnest.
"Yes, I am indeed sorry. My life is all but lost, and to meet someone such as yourself? It...just seems such a waste, not to look past appearances."
"The Frail" growled low, but non-threateningly, "At
, or past
. Appearances are
. I am Darkspawn, you are human, I see you for you, see me for me."
finally had removed her armor, her manners changing like that of day and night. Fear - was it fear? - seemed to come over the woman, but "The Frail" couldn't blame her, she was human, shame was natural to her kind; they/she had such smooth, shiny, and plush skin, it was only natural for fear against harm...If he had guessed right in thinking it fear? It smelled strange though, so he could only go off of what he saw and what he had learned.
"You...you may set my ribs now, if you'd like,"
she nearly cooed; to "The Frail" it was not a 'like'
task - it was responsibility: a task that must
be done. The other races put such uncertainty in their words, if one says they are to do something, the other acts like it is a thing of preference, whether there own, or the other's. "The Frail" had only one word that he could put behind all the things he found so irksome about the strangeness of the other races. Queer. "After this, I--I fear I must say goodbye and depart this place. His Majesty the King is waiting for my report, or at least for my safe return."
His only valid feelings - though there were others - towards the sight was innocent curiosity. He wondered what it was like to have such pale, soft skin. He was half tempted to poke her, but decided that setting her ribs would be enough. With that he began his task, feeling along her visible ribs, pressing the bones into place with the push of a strong finger, and on the rare occasion: with the heel of his hand.
His half-lidded gaze shifted left, staring at the corpse he'd taken his own neck bindings from. A grunt, and a snatch, and he tore the body's tunic off, almost immediately tearing it into a long continuous strip. He then steadily wrapped her torso, slowly going under her arm, around her female chest, under another arm, and around again, all while keeping the makeshift bandage corset-tight.
A sharp snarl split the silence as he tied the wrappings off securely. Wiggling his way around in front of her again, he stared blankly, his gaze floating down to his hands, which he opened and closed repetitively as he stared, and then he looked up, clasping his hands together in a closing motion he commanded, "On."
He remained staring for a moment at her, reaching out and poking her shoulder one last time before she dressed. He looked at his finger, as if he could see what his nerves felt, letting out a simple, deep-throated mutter, "Mmmm." Like he'd come to some astute conclusion.
He looked back at her, his deadened, yet sharp eyes burning holes in her own. He rumbled, "Grrruh-go to your 'His Majesty the King'rrr. "The Frail" will follow his feet, but he will not know where they go. Perdy may not see "The Frail" again."
"The Frail" laughed at his childish poetry; a low, deep thing, a sound that brings fear no matter; a Darkspawn laughing is no joyous thing, but an evil sound, even if it's bearer is not. Regardless of his dark laughter, "The Frail" was somber as he muttered a simple question, "Mmm-solitary, or solidarity?"