Sabriel has, in fact, slept in a bed before. For the better part of thirteen years, actually, until she was dragged (she wasn't) unceremoniously away from it thanks to her conscription. That first night, the ground was very, very hard, and cold. Not to mention lonely. Even nights in the caravans were nothing like it - it was surprising what beds you could make as a child from feathers and wool and your father's coat.

She gives a sad, pathetic little sound at the mention of a real bed and her smile droops. She picks up her cup of tea as she speaks. "The first thing I asked for when arriving in Skyhold was a room with a bed." It's the only thing she's ever asked the Inquisition for personally, aside from, well, the Wardens out west. The answer had been a no. "Pillows and blankets make it cosy and warm. With a proper mattress, it's very comfortable. It feels a little like floating, weightless... drifting away to sleep, with harmless wanderings in the Fade. There's nothing quite like sleeping in a bed."