( she is affecting a terribly serious look, preparing her answer, and then he says loyalists and it's ruined by the face she pulls, and the pull she takes from the wineskin before surrendering it to him to say, )

Much worse, Marcus Rowntree; I won't.

( she will keep battering her heart against the same things until there's nothing left but blood, it's fine, that's what it's for.

after a short time, )

Skyhold is lousy with loyalists. Not at first, no—they were there, but it wasn't as it's become. But thus it begins: with settling.

( the smile she turns on him, then, is winsome: )

I would like peace, too, don't mistake me. It is a different animal to silence.