[Dorian recalls rather vividly how uncomfortable Commander Rutherford, a native of Ferelden (what may as well be a land of barbarians), seemed in the Inquisition's formal attire. It wasn't as though this man who'd just stopped at the entrance to the ballroom was out of place really. It was merely the way he carried himself. Confident? Yes. Out of his element? Just a bit.
Dorian, in an immaculate suit of hunter greens and whites, smiles in his general direction. Unaccustomed to formal balls or not, at least this handsome newcomer was pleasant enough to look upon.]
New, are we? Enjoying the ball?
[He takes a sip from the glass of champagne (such a delightful beverage) he's currently nursing as he awaits Ragnar's response.]
iii. glow ball
Dorian, in an immaculate suit of hunter greens and whites, smiles in his general direction. Unaccustomed to formal balls or not, at least this handsome newcomer was pleasant enough to look upon.]
New, are we? Enjoying the ball?
[He takes a sip from the glass of champagne (such a delightful beverage) he's currently nursing as he awaits Ragnar's response.]