"That's so," he concedes, thoughtful. "Though there's more to being Avvar than worshipping their gods--and you could be Avvar and Andrastian; there's a few as have converted. Turning to the Maker doesn't erase someone's past." Though it does--or should--make it matter less to her co-religionists, he thinks, and frowns for the thought.

...But now he's quibbling over what someone calls herself and he shakes his head to snap himself out of it. "Still, if you say you're not Dalish any longer, that's that, isn't it?"

Magic's a less fraught subject anyhow. "Good to learn that one early, before you get into too much trouble," is his amiable-enough assessment of her decision to keep out of battle. (He wonders, briefly, what he'd've done in the same situation--if he'd had the chance to realize he'd no taste for battle, after years of training to it-- Set that aside.) "...All right, but. You've got to tell me how you've worked the stealth in, since I don't think I've ever met another mage who was particularly sneaky."