If they kill you, it will be recompense for all the jokes you've made at their expense.
[ Nug jokes will be your end, Sorrel. But no, Beleth huffs a little as she's hugged, but leans into it, giving Sorrel an affectionate little headbump. At least she always has him. ]
Kolgrim would agree with you, I think. But--I don't know. I guess the only way to change things is to keep doing what I'm doing. Giving up just because someone called me names wouldn't get me very far.
I'm not going to be the one to tell you to calm down about it. They're bastards and they don't deserve to breathe the same air, let alone take orders from you.
Just so long as you don't get killed or locked up in an Orlesian dungeon somewhere, is all. I don't know how I'd explain that to the Keeper.
She'd just mutter something about how she always knew I'd end up like that. I mean, Pel already curbed the 'pregnant out of wedlock' thing, I had to figure out a new way to disappoint her.
Mutter it over my grave, more like. Because she'd kill me if you were lost on my count.
[Or possibly Sorrel would simply die if Beleth went down. cheerful thought! But better, probably, than facing his mother.]
C'mon, you know you're doing well and no one can change that. We're Dalish, after all; struggle is what we're good at. You want to help me make honey-taffy for Sina, to cheer up? I'll let you eat the ugly end pieces.
[ If it were anyone else, Beleth would argue that their life was probably more important than hers. But that's not a debate she ever wants to have with Sorrel, not when they're both so important to the other. ]
Ugly end pieces? You are what you eat, I guess. [ That's a joke on the both of them. ] But that sounds good, Sorrel. Count me in.
...And thank you. For listening. I'm so glad you're here, you know. I don't know who else I could talk to like this.
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[He pulls her closer, both arms around and a kiss for her hair. C'mon, twin, buck up. You're the best of all worlds, in his eyes.]
If it helps, I think you're more like a dancing dragon. Much scarier.
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[ Nug jokes will be your end, Sorrel. But no, Beleth huffs a little as she's hugged, but leans into it, giving Sorrel an affectionate little headbump. At least she always has him. ]
Kolgrim would agree with you, I think. But--I don't know. I guess the only way to change things is to keep doing what I'm doing. Giving up just because someone called me names wouldn't get me very far.
...It still bugs me, though.
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Just so long as you don't get killed or locked up in an Orlesian dungeon somewhere, is all. I don't know how I'd explain that to the Keeper.
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[Or possibly Sorrel would simply die if Beleth went down. cheerful thought! But better, probably, than facing his mother.]
C'mon, you know you're doing well and no one can change that. We're Dalish, after all; struggle is what we're good at. You want to help me make honey-taffy for Sina, to cheer up? I'll let you eat the ugly end pieces.
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Ugly end pieces? You are what you eat, I guess. [ That's a joke on the both of them. ] But that sounds good, Sorrel. Count me in.
...And thank you. For listening. I'm so glad you're here, you know. I don't know who else I could talk to like this.