Daithi pauses as well, then, clicking his tongue. — glancing his gloves to conceal a sudden miscomfort. His smile returns in the next moment. "Of course." He raises his head.
He is quiet for a moment, hazel eyes flickering from Daithi's gaze to his gloves. Such a moment might be lost on others, but the Enchanter has spent years now looking for fear between anger, loneliness between laughter in his apprentices. He is reminded in that moment that, hallowed as he sees the Herald, he was just a man before. Such new power might be unnerving, though Daithi is using it well.
Brigham's voice is softer when he answers. "I shall, then."
His smile widens once more, a seeming innocence of the gentle nature of Brigham's answer (a willful inattention, an uncertain appreciation —).
"Good," Daithi replies, continuing in hopes of forgetting the moment. "I imagine Sera will complain about another mage, ... but she's an easier companion than some might think." He pauses. "Have you met her?"
Ah, yes, Sera. "I have," the Enchanter replies, though his tone is one hard to read, underlined with perhaps faint amusement, perhaps something less pleased. The elf girl and he tended to give one another a wide berth; Brigham had no time for her games, and she found no amusement in his lackluster reactions to her pranks. He didn't mind the girl, herself, though he wonders if she feels the same.
Daithi watches Brigham, raising a brow as though to weigh such an answer, though his smile remains in place. "I take it she was up to something," he suggests. (Sera so often is, after all.)
"I wasn't sure, myself, for a time." He is a Dalish mage, after all, and Sera is hostile of either. Daithi supposes the initial comment was ill thought, then, ... though even in purposeful avoidance of such matters, a certain amount of childishness is familiar. (— requires less pretense.) She is an easy presence for Daithi, at least.
The Enchanter realises not everyone is respectful of the Herald's status— or even believe in it at all. They have right to their beliefs, he supposes, but he is glad that Daithi's words seem to insinuate he and Sera have at least met an understanding. "I imagine we'll get along well enough," he says, as to be reassuring.
"Of course." Daithi pauses, then, chuckling for another time. "Now that I think about it: most of them, the others, are ... particular." More than one might expect of any single person.
"They mean well," he adds, his own means of reassurance. "Doubt you won't get along."
Particular. Brigham understands such sentiment, perhaps better than Daithi would expect. Being confined to a single (albeit large) building for most of his life with other people that have experienced the same, though from vastly different view points... yes, the Enchanter understands 'particular'. At least, he thinks so. The other companions all seemed surprisingly different from one another, what little he'd gotten to know of them.
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"But the decision is, still, yours."
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Brigham's voice is softer when he answers. "I shall, then."
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"Good," Daithi replies, continuing in hopes of forgetting the moment. "I imagine Sera will complain about another mage, ... but she's an easier companion than some might think." He pauses. "Have you met her?"
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"I wasn't sure, myself, for a time." He is a Dalish mage, after all, and Sera is hostile of either. Daithi supposes the initial comment was ill thought, then, ... though even in purposeful avoidance of such matters, a certain amount of childishness is familiar. (— requires less pretense.) She is an easy presence for Daithi, at least.
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"They mean well," he adds, his own means of reassurance. "Doubt you won't get along."
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"I'm sure," he replies warmly.