It'd be a lie to say the staves didn't catch her eye. For all that she has travelled long without one, she misses having that extra point of focus for her magic, and with the Inquisition the need for discretion is not near so pressing as it had been travelling alone.

Her hand hovers over another, before she reaches for that haphazard, out of place stave, that seems almost to blur with the Fade as she reaches to it. She grasps it, and it is warm to the touch, as if it were some living thing, even as it makes adrenaline surge in her veins.

This one. This was hers, and she pulls it from its resting place, and wonders at how her own breath sounds like an echo. This is bound to be a great idea.