❝ well, for what it’s worth, i don’t think you’re savage. ❞ even if he did, he
wouldn’t let it cloud his judgement. it isn’t his place to pick at people’s
natures. they are all products of their upbringing, it is solely up to the
individual whether they wish to try and change that. it’s why he’s trying so
hard to shed his distrust of elves, but he’ll never be able to rid himself of
the insecurity that comes from belonging to neither of his home nations.
he smiles warmly at her. it’s all he can ask for to brighten someone’s day.
that it should be the inquisitor this time is simply a fortuitous bonus. ❝ then i
shall endeavour to learn more. if anyone is willing to teach me, that is. i
know it isn’t my culture to learn. ❞ and in turn he thinks of his own culture. he
is more attuned to ferelden and its mabarihounds, than orlais and its masked
aristocracy. but they are each a part of him, and each at war with each other.
one day one of them might be victorious, but today isn’t that day. ❝ my father
thought it prudent that i know enough about my orlesian heritage to be proud
of it, but not enough to truly belong. half the time i think my orlesiankin
presume me to be some fereldan simpleton trying to flatter them. ❞ and
likewise, his orlesian-veering accent often alienates him from his fereldan
countrymen. it’s a tiring ordeal. ❝ i can imagine. might i ask how you came to
be fluent in them? they aren’t languages i would expect of someone like you. ❞
“I hope you never do. But thank you.” Hands rub at her wrists, remembering shackles. The way people looked at her when she walked. Cassandra spoke as if it were something new to her; Cast as the villain. A scapegoat. A fact that always amused her. She’s played the antagonist of most peoples stories now and then. Though, she’d never consider herself as vicious or savage as those she lived with for years.
Ears perk as he mentions someone willing to teach him. Maybe when she was younger she would have scoffed at the idea of those outside of her people learning their language. But time made her realize a lot of things. One of them being if others don’t learn it, it’ll fade. And nothing will be left. ❝ I can teach you. If you wish. Whenever I am not off saving the world and what not. I miss teaching people, ❞ she sighs, fondly remembering the days she taught Elvhen to small children, and to elders who had lost too much. To Zevran in exchange for Antivan. She recalls her grandmother teaching her Rivaini as part of her heritage. Lessons that made Rivain seem more like a home than she ever had. ❝ As someone born in Ferelden, I have a bias to say you should just spit on their shoes and call them pompous assholes. But, that does seem unfortunate. ❞ A chuckle leaves her, brow furrowing for a moment. ❝ Someone like me? How do you mean? Because I am Dalish? Or is it the lack of accent of either? ❞
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