#samahll

               ❝ ——— Really? A dragon? Of all animals to imprint upon you choose a DRAGON. ❞ Dorian wouldn’t say that he is surprised, precisely, just. Gobsmacked. Incredulous. Very much so. Who adopts a dragon? Zahir Lavellan, apparently.

         “I do not understand.” She spoke plainly, addressing the Inquisitor with furrowed brows. Jittery still, Florence refused to get too close to anyone, leader of Inquisition included. “You are Elvhen, yet you do not know magic. Has it been lost to your people?” She could remember some things from her time. She remembered how magic was common, and even more common among Elves. She remembered how there were no Circles, and things were simpler then. She wasn’t sure how she felt yet about all the changes.

Lacing his fingers together, Val brought his hands up above his head while stretching his back, feeling the pleasant pop or two before relaxing again. He shook out his hands and double checked his vambraces--all was well, just as it should be. “I’m ready, Inquisitor. I suppose we’re heading to the Hinterlands for the mages, then?”

          “Zahir, you are ------ SINFULLY FUNNY.”  She’s teasing, too; nothing sinful about laughter, after all.  Farah likes to imagine that Andraste, too, laughed often.  Laughed loudly.  “My cheeks hurt from smiling!!”

"Your people," Rikvi said, looking up from sharpening her hunting knife. "They are different from these... lowlander lords and farmers." She waved her knife around, using it to point towards the servants bustling about, the soldiers training in the courtyard, and the ever-present Orlesian nobles whispering behind intricate masks. "I've met few elven tribes in my lifetime. Would you mind questions, Inquisitor?"

        ‘ you can save your titles, they don’t mean much to us, ’ he rasps in that way of his. gerlach glances over his shoulder, to see if mikkel is paying their company any attention. if he is, he isn’t showing it, instead seeming completely engrossed in sharpening gerlach’s axe. he turns back to this inquisitor and studies him a moment longer before he continues. ‘ is it our blades you want? we don’t come cheap. ’ 

“I think the Dalish clan we’re looking for passed through here.” He looked up at the Inquisitor, pointing in the direction the tracks seemed to be heading in. “Looks like they went that way. Do you want to take the lead, or shall I?”