[ Before his time at the Hold, Ironeye had only himself to look after. The life of a shadow, uncorrupted by sentiment -- the Fellowship's brandished blade. Then, suddenly, he had comrades, and he'd taken it on himself to watch after them as well. For the first time since he could remember, he cared after others: memorizing preferences, habits, distinctions between magical catalysts he'd never needed to concern himself with. And now... ]
Rain, your hands.
[ He held his own gloved hands out, palms up, approaching closely enough that the god would be able to feel his body warmth. For his part, Ironeye looked to be carrying something tucked neatly betweeen his right arm and the top of a shoulder bag. The cold weather did not prevent him from wearing his customary armor.
Through the Tether: affection, warmth. A gentle concern. Rain, he was gathering, was the stubborn sort when it came down to it -- loathe to let his hurts prevent him from his objective. Something his fellows might accuse him of, only now the sword was in the other hand. ]
no subject
Rain, your hands.
[ He held his own gloved hands out, palms up, approaching closely enough that the god would be able to feel his body warmth. For his part, Ironeye looked to be carrying something tucked neatly betweeen his right arm and the top of a shoulder bag. The cold weather did not prevent him from wearing his customary armor.
Through the Tether: affection, warmth. A gentle concern. Rain, he was gathering, was the stubborn sort when it came down to it -- loathe to let his hurts prevent him from his objective. Something his fellows might accuse him of, only now the sword was in the other hand. ]