Falkreath was starting to seem like the most ideal option... yet going into an area that was more than likely still struggling didn't seem all too smart. And once again, still no other choice unless they were to go into uncertainty. The Gods were really screwing with them now...
"I don't care what we do as long as it means we can take the offensive soon," he growled. "The longer we fight the dwemer with our feet instead of our swords, the more land they take and the more entrenched they become. There are only so many places we can go before you run out of holes to hide in." Qara'Sion turned his head slightly to the speaker of their words. As much as he kept Blade in high regards being one of two people he has traveled with since the khajiit fell into this mess for the longest amount of time; the other being Elayna, he almost completely disagreed with the argonian's choice. They were even a smaller group than before... they couldn't hope to accomplish anything in their current state. Although there was probably no doubt they would eventually have to fight whether their own desire or not, now wasn't the time.
Then the orc shouted, completely catching Qara'Sion off-guard. A low-blow from his words to Blade. The khajiit only heard of what happened in the prison. Nothing good. Then Urzoth shoved by Qara'Sion and the khajiit staggered a bit. Could a fight NOT happen right now when no one knew what in the world to do?
He shrugged in annoyance once he regained his composure. Turning back to his spot by the window, he walked near Blade and spoke lowly through his teeth. "Calm down. Don't let it get the best of you." Hopefully Blade wouldn't be too bothered or angered by their words, but there wasn't much that he could do despite knowing the argonian a bit. As he sat back down, he realized randomly his mane was becoming too long as it reached his hips at this point. Digging through his pouch, he pulled out a knife and reached behind him, grabbing the dreads. With a quick cut, the locks fell behind him. Now his mane was only an inch or two above his rear. Short enough.
And Qara'Sion sighed. That was a decent enough of a distraction to ignore most of the others' words aside from Francis' offer for the wine of course. With a bit of a coy smirk, the khajiit shook his head. "Already ahead of you Francis." He told the Breton. Reaching back into the pouch, he pulled out another bottle of wine. May not be as good as the one Francis had, but always good enough. Qara'Sion stuck a nail in the cork of the bottle and easily pulled it out, him chugging a fair bit of the wine after. Maybe later he would go out just for a walk outside... just to relax a bit more.
He listened on to Marassa's words, primarily to Blade and about Zaveed. She really was cold. She was right, but cold. For the love of the Gods, please don't get mad Blade... Qara'Sion still never got the chance to apologize to Zaveed for his actions back at the Mosque. He knew Marassa wanted to find her brother. It would look as if they obviously both had a nearly similar goal. If possible, Qara'Sion would try to find Zaveed if his own goal of finding Mufasa doesn't come through first.
Finally setting the bottle down with a cough, Qara'Sion peered into the pot from afar. "...That stew is done if anyone wants to eat."