Strange appreciates the context. As much as he’s been mainlining Thedas 101 (and acing the classes, if he may say so himself), and his prodigious memory has been obsessively jotting down as much as he can recall— still, the details slip. The knowledge still needs time to settle, to be pinned down with permanency. He’s trying to remember what he’d been told about them. Avvar: mountainous people; facepaint?
When he tries to delve a little too deeply into that cold rune in the bow, the ice crackles again, almost blistering his fingers. Thankfully, he barely feels it.
Fascinating.
“Were you avenging a great wrong? And what kind of spirits? I gather there are many.” He makes a casual gesture towards her, a metaphorical tip of the hat to the brutal details Gwenaëlle had sprinkled in about that disoriented, injured trip to Skyhold. (The details hadn’t made him flinch. Surgery had given him a strong stomach and steady hand for that sort of thing.) “A rage demon is a spirit.”
no subject
When he tries to delve a little too deeply into that cold rune in the bow, the ice crackles again, almost blistering his fingers. Thankfully, he barely feels it.
Fascinating.
“Were you avenging a great wrong? And what kind of spirits? I gather there are many.” He makes a casual gesture towards her, a metaphorical tip of the hat to the brutal details Gwenaëlle had sprinkled in about that disoriented, injured trip to Skyhold. (The details hadn’t made him flinch. Surgery had given him a strong stomach and steady hand for that sort of thing.) “A rage demon is a spirit.”