[ while lliorel does an excellent job of hiding it, she's often in awe. of the people that stand alongside her, the breadth of the inquisition, the resources it succeeds in bringing in. she's in awe of the will that thedas has in trying to overcome the evils that keep raining down upon it. the inquisition's opponents, its naysayers, they impress lliorel a lot less; it's a lot easier to complain and wail that something is wrong and not good enough without ever trying to raise a finger of your own. she's never been capable of listening to those that try to tell her what she can and cannot do, what she should and should not do. it made her a frustrating, obstinate child, and even more frustrating as she grew into an adult — but she can't say it hasn't served her well thus far, no matter the nerves that constantly bubble away in the pit of her stomach.

she takes a more careful sip of her own wine, preferring to drink in tiny gulps of full-bodied flavour. anything more in her mouth and the flavour became a little too overpowering for her simpler tastes, but she'd be damned if she hadn't made her efforts in learning to love the more refined things in life. ]

I think you might be right. [ her gaze also shifts to the window, and her smile softens. not unlike a parent looking out over children that she is proud of. ] I'm absolutely stuck with it, but I couldn't be stuck with better people.

[ a brief, short laugh. ]

What a relief, that the Inquisition has succeeded in bringing out the best in so many, and that the worst aren't within our walls.