It's true. She's not a soldier, not even a hunter as far as the Dalish go. Merrill prefers not to fight, if there's a way around it. She prefers peace. But peace isn't always an option, and it isn't an option in regards to Corypheus. Perhaps that's why she finds it so important within the ranks of the Inquisition. Perhaps it's part of why everyone reacted so strongly when accused of something like godlessness.

Merrill has never considered herself to be an expert at people. She's never even thought of herself as being good at people. But what she said had struck a chord with people, at least. There have been good conversations, ideas for distractions and joy and better ways to work out frustrations. The Grey Warden named Hercules had offered all of the above, and she's pleased to see him as she straightens up from where she's gathering herbs, flashing him a bright smile.

"Oh, yes! It's very nice to meet you in person." The herbs are shifted, tucked into a pouch along her belt; they'll keep. "The Grey Warden who wants to throw snow."