Eiridan looked up at that voice, locking eyes with the man in front of him. His eyes widened as he took in the features; pale and perfect, but what arrested his his attention was the tips of his pointed ears.

An elf...but at the same time, how could he be? There was none of that servile nature, no attempts to shrink back from attention. Instead that was this cool, confidence, and the way he looked upon others was like a lord to his subjects, not a servant to his masters. Not even the Dalish projected such a manner, they seemed to be more defensive and wary than anything else. This ...elf before him was used to power, that much was clear.

Eiridan lifted his glass in return, his gaze sharpening on the elf before him with something akin to hunger.

"Who are you?" His voice is quiet, but vibrates with intensity.