(I feel fail at interpreting things, but I'm just gonna try to go with it ic. I feel totally duh seriously. Anyway, Signy, I did my best to remember what we discussed before. If anything doesn't work for you, let me know and I'll fix it.)
Rhocanth froze when he heard Lythe's words, feet sliding a little in the snow as his elbow was gripped. Of course. Why couldn't he have imagined that they would no sooner attack him than let him approach? He had never encountered such a situation before in his life. In Orzammar it was not so: no one outside of Dust Town, which he never, ever visited, would dare refuse to speak to him or help him if he asked it. If they did wrong him, bodyguards or his own brother would leap to his defense.
Not anymore. And wasn't that the sort of naivety that had finished him off in the first place?
The isolation of the Deep Roads had held that notion fast, but now out in the open when he knew he could not keep his current company and needed allies, it bubbled forth. Now he did feel the sting of the surfacers as it sank in what they might do, and his heart sped up by several measures. By the Stone, what did he even fancy he'd do out here? He had no survival instinct. He'd be dead by morning, even after having made it all this way. Perhaps he should unburden the Legion and go let it happen.
"Forgive me," he breathed to the sergeant. "I just wanted... I don't know what I wanted."
He clamped his mouth shut when one of the girls approached them. He still thought it was odd that two dwarven lasses were consorting with surfacers. And aggression toward him he could see, but the Legion? Who would do such a thing? Had they kidnapped these girls? The itch in the back of his mind made him stay put to see the girl, despite Lythe's hand. Something about this setup truly worried him.
It was then that his keen memory went into drive. He looked at her, her fine blonde hair, her soft voice and manner, and his ears filled with... music, the scent of precious oils on the air, a feast. The only unfamiliar element was the swatch of a scar across her cheek, but even that said it must be true. What a fate to befall her!
"Signy Dagna," he said suddenly. "I know you. 'Tis me, Rhocanth of Garal. Do you remember? The Helmi party. We danced." It must have been a lot for her, so he bowed his head gently and added, "I am glad to see you... well."
As well as she could be in the company of this human woman, who had at least so far not done anything worrying, and an armed lunatic with a mabari, as he now knew it to be. He had never seen one before. If he had recognized it, or been more aware and less dense, he might have heeded Lythe better. He was infinitely glad he couldn't read the sergeant's mind. Then again, he wouldn't be face to face with a fellow exile, either. Well, dumb luck had saved him this once. Here was to hoping it'd hold out.
"I... Listen, I am sorry to cause such a scene. Don't worry about me. What about you?" Rhocanth's eyes drifted over Signy's shoulder to the surfacers. If she needed to be rescued he'd make a go of it, one-armed or no. His honor wouldn't let him leave her behind.