[ If there is a single person in all Thedas less suited to doing wilderness survival things like using rocks as sharpening tools -oh no, not tools - than Dorian, it's Sera, so his mouth opens theatrically wide, a forefinger waggling upwards, and then-- ]
Foom. Truly.
[A tiny, despairing echo. How, he inquires in silent appeal to the Maker, did they arrive here so quickly? ]
Sweeping aside how terribly likely I can only thank Andraste that is not to happen, what sorts of rocks does this miracle working require?
[That's right, they're gonna look for them. WHAT NOW, EH? ]
no subject
Foom. Truly.
[A tiny, despairing echo. How, he inquires in silent appeal to the Maker, did they arrive here so quickly? ]
Sweeping aside how terribly likely I can only thank Andraste that is not to happen, what sorts of rocks does this miracle working require?
[That's right, they're gonna look for them. WHAT NOW, EH? ]