[He woke up to cold. His body shivering as he pulls what little he has to body. He feel the furs against him, but it doesn't stop the goosebumps rising. He can see his breath as he breaths, each suck of cold air hurt his chest. He was use to the cold Ferelden nights, but this was a little ridiculous.]
Maldito.
[His teeth chattered as he stood up, his hands rubbing at his arms to try and get some friction and heat between his skin. His ears start to hurt as the cold gets to them as well. His eyes glance around the room and he picks up whatever he can that looks warm. A blanket, a rug, some towels-- whatever he could find honestly. It was only when he completely covers his body in linen that he went to the door. It was locked.
His one weakness. He sighs heavily as he stares down at the lock. The Warden and Leliana had taught him some lock picking, but without his tools that was all useless. His stare narrows to a glare the longer his gaze is fixed on the lock. He didn't know why the guides locked him in, but he didn't appreciate it at all. He isn't sure why it makes him so angry or why it only takes only a quick body check against the door for it to open. So much for locks.]
Hello?
[It's so quiet. He isn't sure why. There were dozens of people with him before. They couldn't have all left, but after checking every room he sees that he is indeed alone. He don't think too much about it, he's use to this so he moves on from it quickly. He needs to get supplies and move out, but looking though the kitchen proves to be worthless. There is nothing left.
He's standing on top of the counter, searching for anything he can use, when he hears a noise. Foot steps. He reaches under his many layers for the knife at his belt. His fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade as he draws it out. He pivots on the balls of his feet towards way he heard the footsteps. His hand with a blade moves across body, blade pointed outwards, in a defensive position. He's ready for a fight, but he pauses when he sees it's another who had been in the group. Guess they were both left behind.]
Oh. [His arm falls back to his side.] Is this what is called the 'short end of the stick'?
Zevran Arainai | Dragon Age
[He woke up to cold. His body shivering as he pulls what little he has to body. He feel the furs against him, but it doesn't stop the goosebumps rising. He can see his breath as he breaths, each suck of cold air hurt his chest. He was use to the cold Ferelden nights, but this was a little ridiculous.]
Maldito.
[His teeth chattered as he stood up, his hands rubbing at his arms to try and get some friction and heat between his skin. His ears start to hurt as the cold gets to them as well. His eyes glance around the room and he picks up whatever he can that looks warm. A blanket, a rug, some towels-- whatever he could find honestly. It was only when he completely covers his body in linen that he went to the door. It was locked.
His one weakness. He sighs heavily as he stares down at the lock. The Warden and Leliana had taught him some lock picking, but without his tools that was all useless. His stare narrows to a glare the longer his gaze is fixed on the lock. He didn't know why the guides locked him in, but he didn't appreciate it at all. He isn't sure why it makes him so angry or why it only takes only a quick body check against the door for it to open. So much for locks.]
Hello?
[It's so quiet. He isn't sure why. There were dozens of people with him before. They couldn't have all left, but after checking every room he sees that he is indeed alone. He don't think too much about it, he's use to this so he moves on from it quickly. He needs to get supplies and move out, but looking though the kitchen proves to be worthless. There is nothing left.
He's standing on top of the counter, searching for anything he can use, when he hears a noise. Foot steps. He reaches under his many layers for the knife at his belt. His fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade as he draws it out. He pivots on the balls of his feet towards way he heard the footsteps. His hand with a blade moves across body, blade pointed outwards, in a defensive position. He's ready for a fight, but he pauses when he sees it's another who had been in the group. Guess they were both left behind.]
Oh. [His arm falls back to his side.] Is this what is called the 'short end of the stick'?