"So long as it's crafted by Dalish hands, I don't think there'd be any problem," he smiled, running his hands down Dorian's back as the man settled in his lap. He traced idle runes against the flesh, vague letters in his language - bits and pieces he'd learned among his clan. One day he'd teach them to Dorian, he knew the man would love to learn.

"That robe with your new staff, you'd be the envy of every magister."