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“Well,” Brendin said with a wry smile, “last time I tried to negotiate with an eldritch being, I lost something.”
He motioned his false arm, the one that Alessio had noticed earlier and dismissed just as quickly.
“Granted I’ve not had much luck fighting them either.” He showed the scars across his torso, not much better than Alessio’s scars either. He’s never had any luck with eldritch beings, personally, but they seemed to enjoy chasing haunting him to no end. It still made him shaky to think about it. And it would still be waiting for him if they ever made it back.
Brendin’s friend had seemed to pick up on Bren’s mood and said something in their language. During that time, Alessio glanced at Nithel, who was pulling out stuffing. What did the pillow ever do to you? He thought instinctively before picking up on what his friend was doing. It would make a decent bag.
“I think we should move on.” Brendin said, and Alessio nodded slowly. It felt like moving was just running in circles but was negotiating going to be much better? Really didn’t matter, as long as a decision was made.
“What’s your opinion?” Alessio asked, turning to Nithel. Before he could answer, a low rumble stole from Malvat.
“We should move on.” The dragon growled intimidatingly. Which Alessio didn’t care, he leveled a murderous glare at Malvat. It was Nithel’s turn to be heard and Malvat had no right to bowl over him. Although, in the back of his mind, Alessio didn’t recognize the dragon’s voice; it was more hissing and mechanic.
“Noted.” Alessio said coolly, and flagrantly ignored Malvat. “What do you think, Nithel?”
Behind him he could hear the dragon’s breathing, low and placid, before the sound retreats into a corner in the shadows.