[Blackwall draws up short at the sight of the elven mage burning the lock off the door. Well, melting it. And, yes, he has a look of judgement that he can't exactly help. It's not directed at her though, not truly, but the man who used to similar to make sure he could see his next meal - a man Blackwall would care to forget if he could.]
No better. I suppose of the shop owners come back there can be some kind of arrangement of apology.
[He's seen enough looting in recent days, the mansions in the Emerald Graves, picked through by scavengers who are also just trying to live, might as well live off of nobles who might not ever be coming back, might not even still be alive. The stores, restored as they are, remind him too much of those mansions. It's eerie.]
hope;three
No better. I suppose of the shop owners come back there can be some kind of arrangement of apology.
[He's seen enough looting in recent days, the mansions in the Emerald Graves, picked through by scavengers who are also just trying to live, might as well live off of nobles who might not ever be coming back, might not even still be alive. The stores, restored as they are, remind him too much of those mansions. It's eerie.]