2. No. There was absolutely no way he could do this without smothering his tent mate with their own bedroll, it was absolutely impossible. In fact, he'd take the bears any day...okay maybe not, but still.
First, and perhaps most importantly he was spoiled, used to sleeping alone...well not in that sense, he was used to having his own space while he slept and he was not very graceful in sharing that space. Other people had...habits. Much like his tent mate, and those habits could have been anything from writing or reading by the light of a candle to chewing their nails and spitting them across the tent, habits had a tendency to keep Leondris awake...or as he preferred to be called, Leon (the name wasn't his idea, it seemed everyone from his neck of the woods had been blessed or cursed with flowery names like Marlowe, Sebastian, or Johane...that was the Free Marches for you).
For days it's been like this and his only option was to either leave or be driven mad by insomnia to the point where he lobbed one of his hidden knives down his nightly companions throat. That would be messy, it would also raise questions.
Nothing for it other than to escape the confines of his shared tent and find a comfortable bit of earth for himself and his bedroll. If he turned his head just so to the north then he could see Redcliffe Village silhouetted by the moonlight. It might be beautiful in this light, romantic even from a certain point of view, but he couldn't help casting a mutinous glare in its direction. No room his his Tantervale arse.
3. Sleep might have been impossible, but finding action and weird happenings in the Hinterlands was often a resounding success, at least Leon thought so as he and his traveling companion approached Winterwatch Tower. Personally he had nothing against them, do whatever makes you happy that was his motto. Of course his motto had dug him into a few holes in the past given his propensity to disregard duty in favor of playing the field...he liked to keep his options open and he liked being able to do whatever he wanted. Not exactly a common idea in the Free Marches, he wasn't all that certain about elsewhere.
Traditionally if you weren't the heir or the spare, then you were a potential rival and sent off elsewhere to be of some use and out of the way. This applied most specifically to affluent households and royalty. Generally it was off to the Chantry to become a religious fanatic and of his younger siblings Leon had no intention of being herded off like a chattled beast to live a life of fanaticism. Winterwatch Tower reminded him of this...at least the crazy fanaticism to a thing in the sky they hadn't a clue about. Not that he wasn't willing to sit in their little tavern and partake of whatever ale they offered with whomever decided to join him on this little expedition, which was basically mapping out the area and pinpointing the immediate dangers. His hunting and tracking skill were particularly useful for this.
"Bit bammy aren't they?" He remarked as his eyes scanned the area around him, his voice was low, discreet, not trying to be heard, but he really couldn't help himself. They were a bit crazy.
Leondris Nicolai | Dragon Age | OC Native
First, and perhaps most importantly he was spoiled, used to sleeping alone...well not in that sense, he was used to having his own space while he slept and he was not very graceful in sharing that space. Other people had...habits. Much like his tent mate, and those habits could have been anything from writing or reading by the light of a candle to chewing their nails and spitting them across the tent, habits had a tendency to keep Leondris awake...or as he preferred to be called, Leon (the name wasn't his idea, it seemed everyone from his neck of the woods had been blessed or cursed with flowery names like Marlowe, Sebastian, or Johane...that was the Free Marches for you).
For days it's been like this and his only option was to either leave or be driven mad by insomnia to the point where he lobbed one of his hidden knives down his nightly companions throat. That would be messy, it would also raise questions.
Nothing for it other than to escape the confines of his shared tent and find a comfortable bit of earth for himself and his bedroll. If he turned his head just so to the north then he could see Redcliffe Village silhouetted by the moonlight. It might be beautiful in this light, romantic even from a certain point of view, but he couldn't help casting a mutinous glare in its direction. No room his his Tantervale arse.
3. Sleep might have been impossible, but finding action and weird happenings in the Hinterlands was often a resounding success, at least Leon thought so as he and his traveling companion approached Winterwatch Tower. Personally he had nothing against them, do whatever makes you happy that was his motto. Of course his motto had dug him into a few holes in the past given his propensity to disregard duty in favor of playing the field...he liked to keep his options open and he liked being able to do whatever he wanted. Not exactly a common idea in the Free Marches, he wasn't all that certain about elsewhere.
Traditionally if you weren't the heir or the spare, then you were a potential rival and sent off elsewhere to be of some use and out of the way. This applied most specifically to affluent households and royalty. Generally it was off to the Chantry to become a religious fanatic and of his younger siblings Leon had no intention of being herded off like a chattled beast to live a life of fanaticism. Winterwatch Tower reminded him of this...at least the crazy fanaticism to a thing in the sky they hadn't a clue about. Not that he wasn't willing to sit in their little tavern and partake of whatever ale they offered with whomever decided to join him on this little expedition, which was basically mapping out the area and pinpointing the immediate dangers. His hunting and tracking skill were particularly useful for this.
"Bit bammy aren't they?" He remarked as his eyes scanned the area around him, his voice was low, discreet, not trying to be heard, but he really couldn't help himself. They were a bit crazy.