Shadewood the wood's labyrinth

Qvasir tilted his head slightly, a wry smile playing at the edges of his features as he considered the man before him. There was a certain air about him, a poised confidence, even in his wariness. It piqued his curiosity.

Royalty, are you? he asked, his tone laced with dry humor. Or something close enough that you carry yourself like it?

His gaze lingered a moment longer, studying the subtle refinement in the man’s posture and the measured cadence of his words. Then, with a casual shrug, Qvasir dismissed the question as quickly as it had been posed, his interest shifting to the weight of the man’s last statement.

Found the road kinder, you say? Seems an odd kindness, but I suppose it depends on what you’re running from. He arched a brow, leaning into his curiosity without hesitation.