fingers trace the raised skin on either side of the mark and krem frowns before digging his nails in, gasping at the jolt of electric pain that shoots through him. he curls his hand into a fist, considers punching the wall next to him. this isn’t what he asked for. he can’t do this. saving the world?? FAR above his pay grade. he’s a MERCENARY for andraste’s sake.
he lets out a frustrated yell and gives in, kicking the wall hard enough it sends pain radiating through his leg.