gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking
And thus Ronin falls into the role he's been accustomed to taking throughout the war and even before it; happy to help and eager to put wrongdoings right. Except of course in this case it's a trap rather than a role - not that he's aware. "I can only think it has something to do with Safrin's disappearance," he murmurs of the veins of violet that stain the dragons remains. Flexing the hand that holds the starry bracelet, he lets out a sigh through his teeth.
"If I didn't know better I'd say this was done for fun, or at the very least out of curiosity," he admits, making himself step away from the dragon's corpse before he becomes to absorbed by it all. "Cruel, either way." Clearing his throat, he glances back to Dorian and smiles.
"I can't see why not," he says. "It won't take long - then I ought to follow the trail down the valley. I'd suggest not staying up here too long, though. If it's not dragons, it's alpina. Last thing you want is to be headbutted off the Cordillera. Just one second..."
Dark, draconic wings melt back into his shoulders, and scale and plate are replaced by the downy gold and crimson of a phoenix's feathers. With a sweep of one arm morphing into pinions, Ronin sets the dragon's corpse alight so it might at least have a peaceful pyre to rest upon. And if nothing else, it won't attract other creatures. Once that's finished - and Ronin has shaken the feathers back into fingers again - he whistles for his nimbus.
"If I didn't know better I'd say this was done for fun, or at the very least out of curiosity," he admits, making himself step away from the dragon's corpse before he becomes to absorbed by it all. "Cruel, either way." Clearing his throat, he glances back to Dorian and smiles.
"I can't see why not," he says. "It won't take long - then I ought to follow the trail down the valley. I'd suggest not staying up here too long, though. If it's not dragons, it's alpina. Last thing you want is to be headbutted off the Cordillera. Just one second..."
Dark, draconic wings melt back into his shoulders, and scale and plate are replaced by the downy gold and crimson of a phoenix's feathers. With a sweep of one arm morphing into pinions, Ronin sets the dragon's corpse alight so it might at least have a peaceful pyre to rest upon. And if nothing else, it won't attract other creatures. Once that's finished - and Ronin has shaken the feathers back into fingers again - he whistles for his nimbus.
RONIN
