Cinderwyn
Cinderwyn paused. Zora seemed to have seen him, but she hadn’t come over. Instead, she had her back to him, and she seemed to be talking to the dragon. A little one like that holding a conversation? Cinderwyn could see the rigid lines of tension in Zora's back. She was not comfortable with this conversation but she also wasn’t leaving it alone. Glancing over at his sheep, Cinderwyn checked to see if he could join her. The sheep were restless. His brow furrowing, Cinderwyn stood, hand on his staff, looking for the disturbance. It could have been the dragon, but a little one like that wouldn't go after a whole sheep on its own. Probably wouldn't even be able to eat that much.
There was a girl flinching through the field. She was covered in blood. It certainly didn't look like hers. In fact, Cinderwyn had no idea who she was. She had seen her before, but never spoken. She didn’t spend much time in the village. Neither did he, he supposed. "Do you need help?" he asked her. He barely had to call out for her to hear him. Zora, on the other hand, was still talking to that dragon. "Zora!" he yelled, hoping the deagon would come as well, but seeing a girl covered in dragon blood seemed like something of a deterrent. But Cinderwyn didn’t think it was because of her. The girl was too small to hurt a dragon, and she seemed upset. It was her hands that were covered in blood, he saw. She was trying to help. "Please come too, dragon!" he added.
Fenrin
Fenrin kept smirking, his eyes twinkling with amusement. She had to be pretty out of the loop if she didn't know he was a Talier. Or couldn’t figure it out, anyway. Helping her to her feet, he didn't bother helping her collect her coins. Other people's money was their business and he wasn't about to scramble about in the dirt. So he watched her do it instead. Fortunately the village was too small for there to be pickpockets. You didn’t get street urchins in a place like this. No real streets, for one thing. "Fenrin Talier," he told her, nodding his head and givig a slight bow, hand on the hilt of his sword. "And yours, my damsel in distress?" From the look of her she was anything but, but if she wanted to play this game.