"It's—" he starts, and stops. He is wary of certain kinds of magic, because he's not an idiot, but he is nowhere near as fearful of it as most people are down south. When you grow up where it is more just a fact of life, some of the shine comes off and it becomes just another of every day's dangers that you have to deal with. And anyway, Gilia should scarcely be able to do a lot of damage with one glass phial of song-water, trapped on an island with an entire mercenary company as she is. She doesn't seem the type, besides.

Or maybe Krem is a little bit of a sucker for a sweet smile. Whoops.

"Never seen anything like it," he finishes, only missing the shortest of beats. Still, though: "Holy?" he asks, wondering now like he hadn't before. She fits in an awful lot better than some of the Rifters he's met, so he hadn't assumed she was one at all. "Your whole family's mages?"

So rare, down here. Even Dalish clans make a point to split their mages up.