Noctisardor Bypass i will destroy

glacial gaze flickers from the pale sylph before them to sakhmet as she struggles with the presumed name given to them. a frown tugs the corners of the berserker's lips down and his gaze moves from his ruddied companion to the moon woman. if sakhmet struggles to pronounce the moontouched's name then gleipnir sure as hel would rise to collect the dead, wasn't going to attempt it. then comes the question that everyone is always to curious to know: where the other comes from.

prior to meeting sakhmet, gleipnir cannot claim that he ever cared to know where anyone else hailed from. they were either 'friend' or enemy ...where origin plays no part of that decision. so many packs his milkmother had sent him to raze to the ground, to soak the earth with spilled blood, sometimes to take captives. he hadn't thought about those wolves as wolves. they were another target, another bounty. obstacles that got in his way or wolves who crossed the jarl. even now ...the chained cannot feel remorse. it was simply their way.

now, however, he finds a muted curiosity of the wolves that make up these wilds. or, perhaps, it is just sakhmet that piques his curiosity ...her and her god, peryite.

she speaks in an accent — were heavy accents common in these wilds? — that leaves the chained struggling to understand her. courtfall, sunspire — far away, something, came. an ear swivels back as he ponders what in hel's name was a 'court fall' and a 'sun spire'? why did their words have to be so complicated, gleipnir ponders with a low huff. he tries to temper the worst of his frustration but he feels it tensing the muscles of his shoulders all the same.

why couldn't they just speak 'northern' as he did? wouldn't that be so much simpler? why must he be forced to learn their language when he doubts their willingness to learn his?

gleipnir looks to sakhmet then, hoping that at least one of them understands this andraste. a lot of common is still lost to him, the wires of translation not yet connecting in his brain. but he knows 'cold' and coupled with her tone makes it sound like a question; gleipnir isn't entirely sure what was asked but he is smart and can piece it together well enough. not cold ...fo— for me. he attempts to piece together a response, not knowing any other way to communicate that the cold doesn't bother him. he was born of ice and snow and stone. this is nothing to him.