Strange hesitates at those particular words, his movements stilling as he turns the idea over. (He occupies such an unusual space: still a skeptic and agnostic, although it gets more complicated once you’ve met literal gods and know that at least some of them are real. And the elvhen gods are supposedly far more concrete in Thedas, too—)

“A sign from the Maker. What, like a burning bush on a hilltop or something? Prophetic dreams telling you what to do?”

He doesn’t sound outright disparaging — he knows how wide and wondrous the universe can be, these days — but it’s still a little dry, a little sarcastic. He can’t help it. Old habits die hard.