FOX
Giving a rough sort of nod to confirm that yes, the creature had been him, Fox is prepared for a number of potential responses - but not a flurry of questions, apparently. (Given the nature of his conversation with Hawke so far, though, maybe he should have expected it). His mouth opens to try and form an answer to one query only for another to spill out, and by the time Hawke is done - and very casually continuing on their way, he might add - the hunter's mind is spinning.
"Ancients can shift," he says slowly, once he's gotten his thoughts in order. "Or I can, at least. It's something called a Fyrhund - like a big, fiery, rock... dog." And it sounds incredibly lame when he describes it like that. "I guess my clothes just... shift as well, the same as an Attuned. But no, I can only turn into this." At the moment anyway - not that he's aware of that.
In the distance, a mossy roof peeks over a gentle rise, and Fox nods up ahead. "That's where the healer lives."
"Ancients can shift," he says slowly, once he's gotten his thoughts in order. "Or I can, at least. It's something called a Fyrhund - like a big, fiery, rock... dog." And it sounds incredibly lame when he describes it like that. "I guess my clothes just... shift as well, the same as an Attuned. But no, I can only turn into this." At the moment anyway - not that he's aware of that.
In the distance, a mossy roof peeks over a gentle rise, and Fox nods up ahead. "That's where the healer lives."
astra inclinant, sed non obligant
