Give me a few hundred years, [ he says, casually, as if it is no more than a handful of seed, ] and I could make a god of myself. Yes, I would. Not when it is folly enough that it would leash them still. They deserve their own history, raw and painful and true, when so much else has been taken from them.

[ look, what a clever trick, he opens his mouth and solas' words come out. more or less. he had some of these opinions before, and solas has only confirmed his fears. ]

Placing yourself in the midst of things is not difficult. The harder thing is to stay out of them.

[ which he knows from experience. he motions to the pot, to refill her cup should she wish it. ]

Tell it, so that she cannot find some suspecting Dalish woman to pour herself into. Or else wait. We will be drawn into one another's orbit soon enough. Such is the way of things.