Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160531155853/@comment-5543592-20160602232220

Scire, dressed up now, frowned.

"But I like my armor." He pulled at the torn, burned, fringed, stained, and barely-recognizable-red cloth that held it all together. "Though I suppose it's time for a change." He concluded sadly. Scire wasn't very sentimental-- he appreciated his things, but didn't care too much about holding on to them like Nissa was with her jacket. He remembered being able to leave Black Bow behind after the battle in Valenwood, except that Hawke had insisted she retrieve it.

"Alright then." He said, heading outside. "Maybe he did it up for me in black."