"My knowledge is not exhaustive, but my aid is yours."
Part of it is self-serving curiosity, admittedly, moreso than anything like the knightly desire to help; there are a number of things Herian is not prepared to simply agree with, not even if it is Councilor LeBlanc who spoke them. That the Dalish are here rankles her, that all mages are apostates is something she refuses, because apostasy was forced on them and she does not think that should define them. Rifters being worthy of trust, of consideration? That she can consider with a little more is.
It probably helps her willingness to offer chances that Cosima is very pretty, but let's not actually acknowledge that, or let it colour their interaction at all, because Herian is quietly throttling the part of her brain that volunteered that information. It is irrelevant.
Her head tilts to the side, curious. "Easier than navigating a book?" She sounds far from incredulous— Herian did not learn to read until she was sent to the Circle. Books are well and good, but less than helpful for those raised as lowly as she. "That must be a wondrous invention indeed. There are many in towns here that suffer for the lack of knowledge available to them. Not all can carry the knowledge of a herbalist in their mind." And, with a note of almost-humour, if gently exaggerated pensiveness can be easily interpreted as such: "Rashvine is friend to no man."
no subject
Part of it is self-serving curiosity, admittedly, moreso than anything like the knightly desire to help; there are a number of things Herian is not prepared to simply agree with, not even if it is Councilor LeBlanc who spoke them. That the Dalish are here rankles her, that all mages are apostates is something she refuses, because apostasy was forced on them and she does not think that should define them. Rifters being worthy of trust, of consideration? That she can consider with a little more is.
It probably helps her willingness to offer chances that Cosima is very pretty, but let's not actually acknowledge that, or let it colour their interaction at all, because Herian is quietly throttling the part of her brain that volunteered that information. It is irrelevant.
Her head tilts to the side, curious. "Easier than navigating a book?" She sounds far from incredulous— Herian did not learn to read until she was sent to the Circle. Books are well and good, but less than helpful for those raised as lowly as she. "That must be a wondrous invention indeed. There are many in towns here that suffer for the lack of knowledge available to them. Not all can carry the knowledge of a herbalist in their mind." And, with a note of almost-humour, if gently exaggerated pensiveness can be easily interpreted as such: "Rashvine is friend to no man."