His eyes widen for a moment and heโadmittedlyโis but briefly at a loss for words. โMakerโs balls. Do you think with my scent Iโd make a good perfumer?โ
Dorian raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Ah, well, I do have a rather discerning nose," he replied, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "But I must say, your observation skills are quite impressive. Perhaps you missed your calling as a perfumer?"
//. I feel bad. The person I made this account for isnโt here anymoreโฆ but I love writing this character again. Would anyone want to write sometime soon?
+ someone so petite and unassuming could wield such power. It is inspirational, truly.
As he raises his sword to cleave through another red Templar, the ground shakes more violently.
โWhat the hell is that?โ He asks, turning to Merrill.
As soon as the conflict begins, Blackwall draws his blade and bashes it against his shield. The metal on metal echoes through the cold air, and then he charges headlong into the fold.
As Merrill uses her magic, he stares wide eyed at how +
- seems to assault their party. However, every time he debates complaining about the cold, he looks back and sees sweet Merrill absolutely barefootโso he keeps his mouth shut.
Suddenly, in the distance, he sees a group of Red Templars. โMakerโs balls,โ he curses. โYou ready?โ
There are many daysโlikely most daysโthat Blackwall appreciates his glorious beard, but when the winds rushed his face out in these cold wilds, he has found himself extra grateful. As theyโve trudged through the snow, one foot after the other, the chill air +