Re: (ugh, she's such a brat <3 u Mouse))
With the elf warden breaking away with the others and Falina excusing herself to the gates, the group seemed to be fraying at the edges. It was a good thing, probably; they had hardly had a plan while parading through the crowded streets. Breaking into smaller groups would cover more ground more quickly and be less likely to draw the attention of every man, woman, and child in the Alienage. The actual plan, as Davin understood it, was vague at best…wandering, meandering, chasing whispers and scraps of memory pieced together by fallible minds.
The lute slung over his back felt heavy and awkward against his shoulderblades, and he wondered why it had seemed like such a good idea to take it with him. As much as he didn’t like leaving it behind, it would have been safe enough from camp, and saved him from looking quite so out of place. Instead of the lute, he should have carried two swords and ten daggers… he would look like a force to be reckoned with then. It rankled him that he could do nothing more than tag along with the group and pretend that there was a reason for him to be there. It was like a father taking his young son to his workshop and letting him pretend to hold the hammer so he could feel important.
He could not resent any of them for it, of course. Simply allowing him to follow was gracious enough-- all they really knew of his abilities was that he was some fool who was a little eager to swing a sword around. Nobody had mentioned that bloody night since then. Not to Davin, anyway. He was grateful for that, just like he was grateful that they let him follow at their heels, ridiculous lute thumping against his back with every step.
Still, impatience gnawed at him. He tightened the fraying cord attached to his lute, wiggled his toes in his boots, and tugged at the fingers of his gloves while he dully watched the others. In the low buzz of conversation swirling around him he could make out Falina’s voice. Davin looked over a shoulder, partly in idleness, partly to make sure she wasn’t surrounded by a swarm of slavers. Or thugs. Or any of the variety of unpleasant people that inhabited the poorer parts of Denerim.
Instead, she appeared to be engaged in a calm enough conversation with two dark-haired elves. Davin started to turn away, but something about one of the men arrested his attention. There was no look of malice or desperation about him, which set him apart from half the inhabitants of the Alienage. He was letting the others do most of the talking, it seemed.
The man shifted slightly and the light fell fully on his features. In that moment, recognition came with a flurry of memories: two children running through these very streets, black-and-blue from bullies; two wide-eyed boys crouching in the bushes and playing doctor to terrified homeless animals. Two young men preparing to leave the desperate squalor of the Alienage behind them, insisting that their new lives wouldn’t have to change their friendship.
“Excuse me,” he said to nobody in particular. Without waiting for a response, he set off towards Falina and the elves. He didn’t want to appear too excited to see his old friend, but the briskness of his steps and wide smile surely betrayed him.
“Pardon me for the interruption,” he said before reaching them, not slowing as he stepped past Falina to clap Darrian on the shoulder. “Darrian, friend, it is good to see you.”
He realized, belatedly, that it might have been better to introduce himself first in case Darrian did not recognize him or if Darrian was not really Darrian. Acting too familiar with a stranger in the Alienage was a good way to get a knife between the ribs… but at least if that happened, it would be a wonderfully amusing way to die.