Her smile and smothered laughter warmed him, glad to see something other than that hollow look filling her eyes again. He folded his arms behind his head, pillowing it against the hard cold ground as the chill seeped into the flesh exposed between bits of leather. It was cooler, but here by the fire he was much more comfortable, and even his shoulder only gave him a twinge of pain every so often. Stretching languidly as Seda plopped down beside him he watched her from beneath hooded lids, the heat and late hour making his eyes drift lazily closed. They were startled back open by her barrage of questions, laughter creeping over him as Seda finally sputtered to a halting stop.
The curiosity and enthusiasm in her voice was infectious, and he found himself rolling over to face her, propping his head on one hand as he stretched out on his side. "Rivain?" He watched her for a moment, gathering thoughts that had scattered like a flock of starlings. "It's different. It's not perfect, but at least in Rivain..." his voice trailed off as the horrifying things he had seen in Denerim surged ahead in his memory. "It is not a crime to be born an elf."
Turning from such ugly subjects, he racked his brain for something more innocuous to share with her. "The buildings are stone, soft and rounded, and you can hear all sorts of languages on the streets of Dairsmuid. There are sailors from all over Thedas there, and exotic goods. But people look very different here in Ferelden." Gesturing to his own dark skin and features he lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. "Most everyone looks like I do in Rivain. Eyes as beautifully blue as yours are a rare pleasure, indeed. I was almost astonished at the sheer variations in eyes and hair in Ferelden, and I am afraid I would never be able to blend in completely here." Pushing back the wave of homesickness that washed over him, he considered her next questions.
There was no shame in asking a mage about his craft in Rivain, no more than it would be rude to ask a swordsman about his skills, and her hesitation pained him. Had he not offered her honesty? He realized that with free mages so rare here, etiquette was probably not something that came up often. He frowned, his eyes unfocused as he tried to fit words to describe how one changed shape. In the still night, the small sounds of evening shuffled around them; the crackling of the fire, the soft hoot of an owl, the tiny scuffing of rodents in leaf litter.
"I have only learned four shapes," he finally began after she had rolled away from him to stare up at the jeweled sky. Her interest soothed his fear that his abilities repulsed her, and he wanted her to understand how he loved his craft. "Bear of course, wolf, leopard, and ordinary cat. It takes a great deal of time and observation to master a form, of watching the animal to understand their movement, the structure of their body, what is important to them. Animals that walk on the land are easiest, because it seems less foreign. Once I tried a bird..well, that was a disaster." He laughed at the memory, perched atop a roof, too terrified to take that first brave step off into the air.
"But I'll use the wolf as an example. It is simple, really. I hold the picture of the wolf in my mind, remember the way he moves, the way he speaks. And I think of the things that matter to him; pack, and the chase. The smell of prey on the wind, and the feeling of earth between your toes while running. The success of a hunt, and the pride of survival. And my magic does the rest." He stopped, embarrassed slightly at the passion that had crept into his voice. Not many people had expressed any interest in hearing how he did what he did, and he suddenly felt a bit shy and exposed, having something so important to him laid bare for her to see.