"It...yeah, I mean, it's...a redirection of power. I don't do or think the same way closing a rift as I do throwing up a shield, but in a lot of ways, it just feels like an extension of me. Like...of my will, I guess? There's a lot of things people can do here that seem to be pure willpower, if not straight up magic. And it can fail on me just as much as anything else, or I wouldn't have ended up with a chunk of the red stuff in my shoulder."

He can laugh about it now, but that shirt hurt. And burned. And there was a very long moment between when his shield fluttered, stuttered like a skipping heartbeat and the projectile came hurtling through where he thought this is it. Another death on the counter, but if he dies here, he has no idea what happens. Does his spirit go back home? Does it linger here? Is he just...dead? He can't answer that for himself or for Christine.

Thank god for Araceli being distracting as fuck. "After everything I heard about that fun, I'm glad nobody asked me to go. Bad enough I got all dressed up when those dignitaries came and we had that soiree. I mean, I looked good and all, but can you imagine me in a palace ballroom on Orlesian home turf? Is there any way that would've ended without a straight up beheading?" Okay, he probably wouldn't have been that bad, but he was kind of bad at the Skyhold ball. Really best not to have a mouthy Rifter running around Empress Celene, etc.

"If only Korrin has reason to be worried. Thankfully for all of us, you're just the hot friend. Like, honestly, would if I could, but alas, we're promised to different people. And, occasionally, genitalia."