Etienne noticed the hue come to the young woman’s cheeks and couldn’t help finding amusement in it. Yet he knew she, too, was amused by the remark, not strictly shy or embarrassed by it. And so he took no inclination to apologize, merely gave a low chuckle.
“People in Orlais find it me to be a tantalizing scandal to gossip about at their tea parties,” he responded. “The bastard mage son of a marquis? People like to trip over themselves for a few moments alone, if only for the story.” He followed after her, raising a single brow in amusement as they strolled along. “I can tell you many stories of the trivialities of Orlais. I can also tell you stories of times I helped templars hunt down blood mages and abominations. There are many to choose from.”
"Hmm," hummed the Inquisitor, bringing a finger to her lips as she exaggerated her thinking. "I think I'd much prefer hearing how superfluous Orlais can be — what better way to hear about it than from someone Orlesian?" Etienne was a bit of an odd man in Evelyn's eyes; noble like her, but not quite treated as such, due to the magic running through his veins. Yet it was evident by his recounts that people not being afraid to talk about him. All the while she was hardly mentioned among the Trevelyans and further up until she was proclaimed the Herald of Andraste. Funny how family can be that way.
She led the Orlesian mage to the garden, where the war outside of Skyhold's walls could be forgotten, if not only for a little while. "I always love coming out here," Evelyn reached out towards one of the flowers growing in a clay pot, her fingers tracing over one of the petals. "It's so serene here, don't you think?"