[ In the time Warren is gone, Dorian keeps trying to tap into the Fade. Each attempt at summoning his magic results in little more than a whisper of flame, of ice, of lightning, and he nearly screams with frustration. If he could just cast, he could get himself out of this blighted cell, possibly murder a few people on his way out, and figure out how to get himself home.
But the wards do their job, and soon he learns to cut his losses -- in that avenue, in any event. After that, he checks for weaknesses in the bars, casts around for anything in the cell he might use to pick the lock, but naturally he comes up with nothing.
Already at the end of the first day, Dorian is forced to admit defeat.
The second day, however, is just salt in the wound.
On the third day when Warren finally arrives, Dorian is tired. Angry. Hungry. Afraid. He sits on the bed, legs crossed and blankets gathered around him. His gaze flicks from one wizard to the other as they enter the room, and fear claws up his spine. Funny, that he could face down dragons and abominations, yet the sight of these two men nearly put him into a panic.
At first, he doesn't seem as though he means to respond. But answer he does, after a few seconds of silence, and in a hoarse voice, he croaks out, ]
no subject
But the wards do their job, and soon he learns to cut his losses -- in that avenue, in any event. After that, he checks for weaknesses in the bars, casts around for anything in the cell he might use to pick the lock, but naturally he comes up with nothing.
Already at the end of the first day, Dorian is forced to admit defeat.
The second day, however, is just salt in the wound.
On the third day when Warren finally arrives, Dorian is tired. Angry. Hungry. Afraid. He sits on the bed, legs crossed and blankets gathered around him. His gaze flicks from one wizard to the other as they enter the room, and fear claws up his spine. Funny, that he could face down dragons and abominations, yet the sight of these two men nearly put him into a panic.
At first, he doesn't seem as though he means to respond. But answer he does, after a few seconds of silence, and in a hoarse voice, he croaks out, ]
Fuck off.
[ perhaps Charlie is rubbing off on him. ]