Sleeping Dragon you're seeing black and blue, so i'll paint you a clear blue sky

“I think I prefer the quiet,” he decides. He doesn’t like being still and useless, always wanting to keep his feet moving, always finding himself on the border or hunting or sparring with someone he could find. Semet and several of his warrior companions always found something to do, but here he’d yet to find his niche. No complaints so far, he’d been able to keep himself busy, even if it had all turned mundane.

When she brought up the captive, his head tilted toward her only a moment. When Gavriel redirects his attention the border, occasionally rubbing his nose against a tree or rock, he then diverts it back. “Will he be a slave?” They weren’t terribly uncommon in Seageda, though they didn’t happen on a regular basis. Captives from war, trespassers, others that proved useful based on their skills. He wonders, only to himself, the purpose behind the unknown captive.

Gavriel then nods to the final question, with a swish of his tail. “It’s not the same as Seageda. I do not quite have my mountain legs,” he says with a soft chuckle, and notices he had yet to stumble on the uncertain terrain yet this morning.