All surface, all the time. Not a scrap of Yngvi's lived beneath it for long beyond the very rare jaunts to Orzammar for Carta business he had to carry out every now and then. And just like Asher didn't go to Rivain out of respect for Nasir, he kept out of dwarven things as best he could (easier than they stayed out of Rivain, honestly) out of respect for Yngvi and Gunnar. Because he was good like that. Yngvi's never missed him like this, as raw as the day they actually lost him or the day the crows came up at the hold. So he learned all the tricks because that's what he got told to do.

Even when you're short like a dwarf, you miss a meal when it's the cost of fucking up.

Yngvi makes a noise in his throat and a dwarf maybe a year or two older than him - it's hard to tell when you've lived a rough life, how much of it is just your face and how much of it is whatever went on behind the face - looks over. He nods at him and the dwarf looks away. "Anyone asks that's your cousin and he's mine...enough removed I don't feel a need to always stick up for him but not so much removed that folk'll walk all over you if you say summat that'll get them feistier than you'd like." Look he wouldn't extend this to everyone but Rachette isn't that sort of Orzammar and no one needs to look at this closely or their nose is getting broken. "He's Snorri, everyone calls him Brunswick."