Dorian's mistake was an easy one to make. After all, once more of the clan gathered, he'd see just how familial they all were. Among the Dalish, they cared not for names or family ties - they were family, they were the People. All of them children of Mythal, born in Elgar'nan's image. Dorian may not have been an elf - but they would welcome him all the same.
The halla's antics made Bramen smile, fond in his gaze as he watched the halla obey Dorian's request, walking by his side as they exited the pen. Bramen closed the gate up once Dorian and the deer had stepped out - and true to his expectation, one of the windhounds trotted over to them, circling the group before hanging back a few feet. This one was white with a dark brown face and paws, spots on its flanks. It was just as slender and tall as the others, narrow face watching them as it sat and waited for them to move. Bramen looked to the dog with smile, speaking something in elvhen that made the dog's ears perk up a bit, the animal looking towards him.
Bramen began to walk, making sure Dorian and the halla were following. The dog lingered a few feet behind them, its focus on the halla more than anything. "I'm not sure what to show you first," Bramen said, reaching back to take Dorian's hand. "The camp isn't exactly the most interesting... You've seen the halla pen, the grazing land," he shrugged a little, leading Dorian around the outskirts of the camp, around the aravels and pointing out varied locations.
"Over there is the fire pit, the Keeper's aravel is near it. That's where we'll gather in a short time," he said, giving Dorian's hand a squeeze. "And over there is where Haren Taehel lives, he's our master craftsman. He does incredible things with ironbark and hart antlers. I'll have to let him show you his work. Maybe I'll see about getting him to make you a set of rings."
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Date: 2015-02-22 05:35 pm (UTC)The halla's antics made Bramen smile, fond in his gaze as he watched the halla obey Dorian's request, walking by his side as they exited the pen. Bramen closed the gate up once Dorian and the deer had stepped out - and true to his expectation, one of the windhounds trotted over to them, circling the group before hanging back a few feet. This one was white with a dark brown face and paws, spots on its flanks. It was just as slender and tall as the others, narrow face watching them as it sat and waited for them to move. Bramen looked to the dog with smile, speaking something in elvhen that made the dog's ears perk up a bit, the animal looking towards him.
Bramen began to walk, making sure Dorian and the halla were following. The dog lingered a few feet behind them, its focus on the halla more than anything. "I'm not sure what to show you first," Bramen said, reaching back to take Dorian's hand. "The camp isn't exactly the most interesting... You've seen the halla pen, the grazing land," he shrugged a little, leading Dorian around the outskirts of the camp, around the aravels and pointing out varied locations.
"Over there is the fire pit, the Keeper's aravel is near it. That's where we'll gather in a short time," he said, giving Dorian's hand a squeeze. "And over there is where Haren Taehel lives, he's our master craftsman. He does incredible things with ironbark and hart antlers. I'll have to let him show you his work. Maybe I'll see about getting him to make you a set of rings."