Chimera Fields rannsókn

@Solharr

cicero's expression twisted into one of mild disgust. not only is this beast brutish, but lacking manners and respect of personal space, it seemed. a growl threatened to build in his throat. he swallowed it—he was in no position to fit, especially not when he'd surely lose. so he bit his tongue, his eyes sharp as he averted his gaze. 

respectfully. submissively. this man, as irritating as he was shaping up to be, could quite possibly be his salvation. how dreadful. 

he almost laughed—humorlessly, of course—when the man called him weak. he'd been called much worse by far worse. "you're an observant one, aren't you?" he nearly sneered. thankfully, he's able to keep his wits, less he lose his head. 

the name he understood, but the rest? it was lost on him. all he could assume was that forneskja was his pack, and he was a figure of power. "pleasure to meet you, sólhárr. please tell me what language it is you speak. it is...unknown to me." 

skills. cicero's lips pulled into a thin line, his brows momentarily pinched. there was an ache in his chest, dull but one that threatened to blaze into an inferno. he used to be a brilliant scholar, a healer...but now? he was nothing. a nobody, yet again. 

but then the thought struck him—no one in these lands knew of his past, his failures, his loss and grief. in these lands, he was but a piece of clay to mold into whichever shape he see fit. he could become someone again. 

so he white-lies. "i was a healer. long ago, but i was a talented one." he stated with a tilt of his chin. it'd been long since he last even picked an herb, but he could tap into that knowledge yet again.