[ Alphinaud slowly unbuckles his own seatbelt, sliding past the seats the long way to join his sister on the other side. The hood of his car won't cease smoking, sending an awful smell into the air. But she's asked the right question, or perhaps the only question that needs asking, and so he doesn't add else just yet.
Instead he takes the time to study the man who should be dead, who very much looks like a man, and who carries the airs of someone who frankly doesn't act all that much like a Primal or an Ascian.
Maybe he'd had enough health to down a potion in the time that Alisaie aimed her shot and he got to his feet. It's not quite enough to give him a sense of relief, but he can at the very least accept that they aren't in immediate danger.
He won't be telling his sister to lower her weapon or her guard, though. ]
And if I might ask you again, ser, who — or what — are you?
no subject
Instead he takes the time to study the man who should be dead, who very much looks like a man, and who carries the airs of someone who frankly doesn't act all that much like a Primal or an Ascian.
Maybe he'd had enough health to down a potion in the time that Alisaie aimed her shot and he got to his feet. It's not quite enough to give him a sense of relief, but he can at the very least accept that they aren't in immediate danger.
He won't be telling his sister to lower her weapon or her guard, though. ]
And if I might ask you again, ser, who — or what — are you?