She raises a toast to that, her glass lifting and nodding her head. The smile that could only be called wry. "You have honoured me by wanting to wear what we have made." She takes a sip herself.

"It is my hope that Rifters as well can be seen as a blessing for our differences, for the new things that we may bring. Not just a weight on common men's pockets as extra mouths to feed." A sigh, she does not blame that resentment. It would irk many she knew, at home. "I would be proud that Kirkwall could boast of us in such a way."

She moves to place her glass down, gently on the table and - for all she is a royal. For all that there are a half dozen habits that betray that, there is a simple practical way to how she moves about. The familiarity with each gesture, and how she handles herself. Her hand flicking to move the pallu draped over her shoulder back up her arm. The way she minds each of her jewellery and their clanking and chimes. Moving to take the seven-yard saree first - and grabbing with both hands on one hem, she flicks out the material in a cascade of blue, gold and green colours that moved like water. Pooling and shimmering, her bangles clanging as she did in once and then twice. Taking a step out to let it stretch to its full length.