They are Men, unpredictable and often violent, their moods are difficult to predict at the best of times. Fortunately they are not especially keen, nor difficult to avoid if one has a mind for it.

[Oh and she does. She absolutely refuses to be returned to a cell, it is an indignity she will not suffer twice. She regards Solas as they walk, the way he carries himself is closer to how the Eldar do, but he is clearly of Thedas. He lacks the tattoos of the Dalish, though, and she finds she is somewhat grateful for it.

The idea of willingly marking oneself is still a strange one for her.]

Apostate--ah so they have decided you are criminal, or were? I find it hard to recall what some of these words mean; they change so often, alongside the politics of this place. In all truth I still do not think I am a mage, though I've been called one on more than one occasion.

I do not do magic, I simply shape the world as elves are wont, but these people insist upon the term.

I admit, though, I envy your skills. My talents lie elsewhere and of the tangible arts only weaving does not evade me.