[center][h3][color=808080]Z A G R E N[/color][/h3][/center]

Uncomfortable with sleeping in the confines of some stuffy room Zagren took refuge from the blizzard outside within the nearby stables, curling up on a pile of hay as he listened to the winds howl before drifting off to sleep dreaming fitfully unable to stop thinking of Foxfire's words as well as Auril silent to his beseeching, the shifters words echoed in the dragonborn's head continuously until he awoke with a start.

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Stamping his way through the snow and sleet, Zagren made his way to the White Lady at the crack of dawn when clientele was sparse so he found a seat at the bar without issue ordering fried fish.