Swallowing, he looked over the mage; this was the one who had taken him under his wing. Eyes closing he grit his teeth, one hand reaching down to grip the edge of his seat.
He had waited for him. He had spent days sitting in silence, wondering what had happened to his older brother. When he had failed to ever return the Karashok had spent his days in their spot, rehashing every single kata that had been taught to him there. And now… here he was sitting before him decades later.
He had once dreamed of fighting side by side with the Qunari across from him, but one was not meant to fight beside a mage. It was the way of the world that eventually all dreams must end. But why like this? Why had he become, of all things, a mage?
Feeling the wood shift and crack under him he released his grip on the chair and let his hand drop, flexing uselessly at his side. Breathing in deeply he tried to maintain control. He did not know how he was meant to deal with this. What was he supposed to do in such a situation? How did he act? He couldn’t handle this, he had to leave.
Knocking his chair back the Karashok jumped to his feet. Staring down at the other he waved a hand at the remaining pastries and then over to the beds. “You should finish eating and then get some rest. I will leave you here for now. I will return.”
Quickly striding away from his… mage he headed for the door. Ripping it open he stepped out into the light, pulling the door closed behind him. Hand on the knob he fell against the door for a moment. Breathing in slowly he tried to relax. He would go and get chains for Hissra as was requested. When he returned he would not treat the mage any differently. Their past could not change their future.