At the mention of Tevinter's lost glory, Myr looks briefly ill; that's unpleasant to contemplate. "Their kind have done worse for power," he says. The usual humor's drained entirely from his tone. "He did worse for power. You've almost got to pity them for riding his coattails rather than taking his initiative."

He's as happy to drop the subject when she does, feeling almost like he shouldn't have joked about it in the first place. There are things that ought not be treated lightly and this--this may be one of them.

The mention of permanent hot springs at Skyhold makes him sigh wistfully. "Why'd you ever move away from those? That sounds lovely." He'd contrive a way to set himself up near them and never leave. It's too cold in the south.

"He's a rifter mage, actually--about the first thing we talked about was how his magic doesn't work right here and how much it'd inconvenienced him." One corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile. "I'm expecting to hear that from all of them, honestly, once I get around to talking to them--it's enlightening.

"But--what is a Reaver, exactly? They're the blood-drinkers, aren't they?" Where is that even from--some cultural study? But on whom? It sounds like an Avvar thing...