Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy
"Time will tell." And in Morgen's experience, it always did. Loudly, in most cases.
The wind nearly takes his hat, but it's with quick reflexes and years of defending his head-wear against the wind that he manages to keep it on. Even with this interruption, the look Morgen gives Isla is deeply thoughtful and though he does look at her, it isn't so much the combination of her features that he sees, but something about her, instead. "Sounds like you have the right of it." He agrees before turning his attention back to the descent ahead of them.
"Acchhk." Morgen's face twists into one of comical embarrassment as he scrubs one gloved palm up the side of his face. "I ain't gotten say nothin'. My boots are too big as it is to shove 'em any farther down my throat." Shaking his head, Morgen leads them down towards camp. A few times he half glances over his shoulder to make sure Isla's footing was okay, even offering out his hand a few times though she didn't really seem to need it.
Lower down the air was a good deal cooler, and though the chilly winds buffeted higher up in the Mourn, here at least things were fairly still. "Camps' over there." If Isla follows where Morgen's gaze has moved, she'll see what almost looks like a log cabin. There's no real roof to speak of, though there are nearly four walls. Nearly, because the building seems to be built entirely skewed for some reason, instead of square. That and there's no door. Nearby is a chair made out of fallen timber and a campfire where rabbit stew is indeed simmering over a pile of embers.
The wind nearly takes his hat, but it's with quick reflexes and years of defending his head-wear against the wind that he manages to keep it on. Even with this interruption, the look Morgen gives Isla is deeply thoughtful and though he does look at her, it isn't so much the combination of her features that he sees, but something about her, instead. "Sounds like you have the right of it." He agrees before turning his attention back to the descent ahead of them.
"Acchhk." Morgen's face twists into one of comical embarrassment as he scrubs one gloved palm up the side of his face. "I ain't gotten say nothin'. My boots are too big as it is to shove 'em any farther down my throat." Shaking his head, Morgen leads them down towards camp. A few times he half glances over his shoulder to make sure Isla's footing was okay, even offering out his hand a few times though she didn't really seem to need it.
Lower down the air was a good deal cooler, and though the chilly winds buffeted higher up in the Mourn, here at least things were fairly still. "Camps' over there." If Isla follows where Morgen's gaze has moved, she'll see what almost looks like a log cabin. There's no real roof to speak of, though there are nearly four walls. Nearly, because the building seems to be built entirely skewed for some reason, instead of square. That and there's no door. Nearby is a chair made out of fallen timber and a campfire where rabbit stew is indeed simmering over a pile of embers.
