This statement troubles Pitou in a way they would struggle to articulate. Fills them with thoughts of what will happen to them now that they are also masterless; there is no ant King here to guide their path. Expression shows openly on the qunari's face, a pinch of sorrow as they reach out to stroke the face of a little doll.
Whatever magic is going on here, they don't understand it, but not understanding something has never really stopped Pitou. There was always time to learn, and their intellect was voraciously hungry for all the world had to offer.
"I don't know, but they should be cared for. They've very pretty."
They are not. They are dirty and crawling with spiders, damaged from wind and rain. Pitou finds them all unique, even the ones whose uniqueness is in what grotesque way their porcelain or cloth body parts have been reattached and reassembled.
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Whatever magic is going on here, they don't understand it, but not understanding something has never really stopped Pitou. There was always time to learn, and their intellect was voraciously hungry for all the world had to offer.
"I don't know, but they should be cared for. They've very pretty."
They are not. They are dirty and crawling with spiders, damaged from wind and rain. Pitou finds them all unique, even the ones whose uniqueness is in what grotesque way their porcelain or cloth body parts have been reattached and reassembled.