Let the road

Later he’d probably find it amusing that in the years walked across the continent, it was likely he was more worldly exposed than his own blood. At least that’s what Ruth would claim, if only to have some leg to stand on later. As the cogs and light came into life, though, he watched the slow glimmer of recognition followed by the look Ruth understood best. Even the tone with which his paternal figure used to address him almost caused him to laugh abruptly, shoulders shaking with the effort of not giving a reaction.

He blinked slowly as he disclosed being on the hunt for the Stoner, glancing down at himself. Now only realising that he’d only managed to scramble on a pair of pants and was currently at the door, shirtless. Well, he may not have been worthy of a vasslin in his father’s eyes but it didn’t mean he couldn't honoured their history somehow. “Clearly. I am not. She’s in Orlais and will return tomorrow.” Though at the jab to his own admission, Ruth barely held his tongue, eyes narrowing sharply. “And I see you are still the heartless, stone faced and belligerent tyrant I left behind.”

Ruth’s frown turned almost into a sneer and a hand reached back to hold on to the frame of the door. Gods, he wanted to hit him, but what good would that do?

“... Funny, because she left me in charge,” his shoulders shrugged heavily, the smallest of grins faintly appearing. “So.. I guess that means you need my help for once.” Flashing his father a shit-eating smirk, Ruth inhaled the best breath and smell of the day. However small and short it lasted.