"Can't say it'd be my first pick," Kirkwall's alright. It's still standing, which is — something. "Dunno. They were out of the war so long. Sea and sun and peace, 's gotta be hard to give up."

He stops chivvying the broom a minute to pick at a spot on the mantle, where stain's gone thick. Chips away under nail.

"How'd you settle on it? Riftwatch."