[ It's remarkable what shifts in mentality will do for a person. Stepping forward to take on his ancient title had left him carrying himself with that authority, even in less conscious ways. It's fascinating in its own way, studying Mahanon studying him, because it's different from what short time his own Inquisitor had to take in the differences. To state they had figured out the puzzle; and he'd been fond, in that moment, of the quickness of mind that had allowed them to piece together the puzzle and accept the improbable answer it provided.
You are Fen'Harel.
It's a gentle fondness he brushes aside, lips tugged down into a neutral expression just shy of frowning. That his eyes follow Mahanon's hands is a matter of personal interest and guilt that he'd already hoped to have absolved. He didn't take pleasure in the pain of his friends, no matter what was implied otherwise. He's just too blinded by his pride in thinking he knows what he's offering others that he fails to see how he hurts them regardless of his attempts at allowing them a few "less painful" years "free" of the Qun's influence. Individuality unto death. That's like kindness; or at least, less cruel than it could be, in his eyes. ]
I almost hesitate to ask what notions they could possibly hold. If I'm to understand what I've been told correctly, 'elves' are a figment of their fictions, imPort arrivals none-withstanding.
[ Something akin to what improbabilities Varric might dream up, only taking species that simply weren't and saying they were. All this is from the handful of conversations he's had between the military and locals, most who were attempting to determine if he was using "prosthesis" for his "costume" in all these festivities.
The details of their situation are what pull his eyes away from Mahanon's hands, studying his features again as if he'd find a more familiar face there. It's surprising, in its own way, that he both can and cannot. ]
They're of Clan Lavellan, if that remains familiar.
[ He could just say what their name was. Instead, he slides right on past, keeping that much to himself for the time being. Way to neither confirm nor deny, Solas. ]
Who of the rest have found themselves here alongside you?
it's the most genuine tag-line he can have
You are Fen'Harel.
It's a gentle fondness he brushes aside, lips tugged down into a neutral expression just shy of frowning. That his eyes follow Mahanon's hands is a matter of personal interest and guilt that he'd already hoped to have absolved. He didn't take pleasure in the pain of his friends, no matter what was implied otherwise. He's just too blinded by his pride in thinking he knows what he's offering others that he fails to see how he hurts them regardless of his attempts at allowing them a few "less painful" years "free" of the Qun's influence. Individuality unto death. That's like kindness; or at least, less cruel than it could be, in his eyes. ]
I almost hesitate to ask what notions they could possibly hold. If I'm to understand what I've been told correctly, 'elves' are a figment of their fictions, imPort arrivals none-withstanding.
[ Something akin to what improbabilities Varric might dream up, only taking species that simply weren't and saying they were. All this is from the handful of conversations he's had between the military and locals, most who were attempting to determine if he was using "prosthesis" for his "costume" in all these festivities.
The details of their situation are what pull his eyes away from Mahanon's hands, studying his features again as if he'd find a more familiar face there. It's surprising, in its own way, that he both can and cannot. ]
They're of Clan Lavellan, if that remains familiar.
[ He could just say what their name was. Instead, he slides right on past, keeping that much to himself for the time being. Way to neither confirm nor deny, Solas. ]
Who of the rest have found themselves here alongside you?