Snippet #1368383

Damned rain, Jasper thought to himself, from his tree. He made a low, trilling whistle, unremarkable to most ears and too similar to birdsong to be noticed as anything more than incidental, and Val ceased her wheeling in the sky and landed safely a few trees away from himself, a little closer to the cluster of elves. He wondered if they were discussing anything interesting, and considered moving to find out from a lack of anything better to do, but ultimately he decided against it.

It was not as though he disliked rain on principle, really; you couldn't harbor such ill feelings toward something you had to deal with on a routine basis, and if there was one thing every sailor knew how to handle, it was an ocean squall. Nevertheless, he was damp, and he was not fond of the sensation. Dry, excellent; sopping wet... well, fine. But damp was simply irritating.

Shaking his shaggy mane, Jasper resigned himself to his fate and settled in, stretching his long legs out on the branch with an inaudible sigh. He was used to having a bit more freedom of movement than this. His thoughts drifted to his recently-purchased horse, which was apparently trained not to wander too far from where he left it. Normally, in a situation like this he would wait for nightfall, then steal out of the area to retrieve his horse and make ready for another day of following. Right now, however, he had no desire to risk his footing on slick bark. Detaching his weighted black cloak, the man settled it over himself and leaned his head back against the tree. Not the most comfortable of situations, but it would do for now. At least this way he'd be around if anything interesting were to occur. Plus, the tree smelled kind of nice. Pine needles and all that. Not the salty air one inhaled on a deck, but appealing nevertheless. He was beginning to understand why the Dalish liked forests so bloody much.

He kept an ear out for any approaching dangers, but other than that, the Pirate King allowed his mind to wander, only really half-awake and dozing. The rain pattered against the leaves of the deciduous trees around his own, and though the sound was nice, he rather envied the lady knight in the cave. At least, that's what he assumed she was; no self-respecting backstabber wore that much armor. Not if they wanted to avoid getting their heads bashed in, anyway.

Of the elves, he guessed that two were Dalish. It was one of those things you acquired an eye for, having seen the hunched shoulders and defeated faces of the city sort more often tan you'd really like. That kind of thing was just depressing, really. Still... if an elf had fire in their eyes or laughter in their natures, chances were they belonged to the forest clans. Of course, that skillfully excluded the elven sailors that made up a good quarter of his crew. Only one of them was Dalish originally, and he was actually the least raucous and belligerent of the lot.

The thought of his crew brought a lopsided smirk to Jasper's face, and he figured they were all probably getting land-sick by now. He'd told them to sail out and do what they would if he wasn't back to Denerim in a month, but he knew well that they were only a falcon-carried message away from whatever port he chose to meet them at next. Loyalty was a sweet, sweet thing.