Yngvi stares. For a long enough time that it's either rude of worrying. Just right through Iskandar and into the Void itself possibly because where to begin. Where ever. He'd need to go ask Korrin as someone with trusted opinions on how weird rifters generally tended to be.
"Right so that's a good place to start because there are castes in Orzammar because everyone lives for that, can't get enough of sorting where everyone goes and where everyone pretty much stays. It matters down there but up here? Nah. I mean you get nobles but for dwarves then unless they have a brand on their face you wouldn't know anything." People probably think some of those are just tattoos as well because humans (and some elves, looking at you Dalish) don't see anything beyond their own concerns, just 'oh look, that dwarf has a thing on their face, aren't dwarves odd'. "I mean it's all shit, you have to stay in the caste the goes with your parent of the same gender so it turns into flaming bronto shit but that's what they all roll in there but you don't talk about that. Apparently."
They don't actually do that but Yngvi says it with just enough sullen conviction that he's sold it in the past to several merchants and a few younger Avvar when Asher took him to some different holds. And Orlesians but Orlesians are, on the whole, idiots. They don't count.
"Surface dwarves are a caste to some or we aren't, I mean really it's incredible we all haven't fallen up into the sky, it's why when you're a young scamp they keep you down in the dark even up top for ten years. You need to be a certain sort of solid and rooted in things before they say 'yes, this one is ready, let him up into the world'. And that's Kirkwall, bits of Lowtown have only ever heard the most fleeting rumour of the sun whispered to them by the blood mages and the rats." Kirkwall being a living breathing thing on account of literally everything that's happened to Kirkwall.
But he has to add some sage dwarf wisdom that's going to make him sound like so many old dwarves. "Trade happens. And no trade is actually fair, you realise. That's false advertising and lies," he explains as the businessman dwarf that knows it all with an airy shrug, able to distinguish between both of those similar but different things. (Usually the difference between how much the guards manhandle you in Kirkwall.)
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"Right so that's a good place to start because there are castes in Orzammar because everyone lives for that, can't get enough of sorting where everyone goes and where everyone pretty much stays. It matters down there but up here? Nah. I mean you get nobles but for dwarves then unless they have a brand on their face you wouldn't know anything." People probably think some of those are just tattoos as well because humans (and some elves, looking at you Dalish) don't see anything beyond their own concerns, just 'oh look, that dwarf has a thing on their face, aren't dwarves odd'. "I mean it's all shit, you have to stay in the caste the goes with your parent of the same gender so it turns into flaming bronto shit but that's what they all roll in there but you don't talk about that. Apparently."
They don't actually do that but Yngvi says it with just enough sullen conviction that he's sold it in the past to several merchants and a few younger Avvar when Asher took him to some different holds. And Orlesians but Orlesians are, on the whole, idiots. They don't count.
"Surface dwarves are a caste to some or we aren't, I mean really it's incredible we all haven't fallen up into the sky, it's why when you're a young scamp they keep you down in the dark even up top for ten years. You need to be a certain sort of solid and rooted in things before they say 'yes, this one is ready, let him up into the world'. And that's Kirkwall, bits of Lowtown have only ever heard the most fleeting rumour of the sun whispered to them by the blood mages and the rats." Kirkwall being a living breathing thing on account of literally everything that's happened to Kirkwall.
But he has to add some sage dwarf wisdom that's going to make him sound like so many old dwarves. "Trade happens. And no trade is actually fair, you realise. That's false advertising and lies," he explains as the businessman dwarf that knows it all with an airy shrug, able to distinguish between both of those similar but different things. (Usually the difference between how much the guards manhandle you in Kirkwall.)