"How do you think I started?" Bramen asked with a grin, though he returned to carving as Dorian and his brother spoke. Meallan was quite interested to hear about Dorian's language, nodding as Dorian explained. He glanced to Bramen, watching his twin carve the halla's horns, the deer content to rest, eyes closed. She was a gentle thing, much easier for Dorian to handle than the harts - and Bramen knew all too well how the overly affectionate hart, Da'mi, could be with him.

Bramen stroked the doe's head, leaning in to blow a few scrapings from the antlers away from the halla's head. Her ear twitched but she was far too accustomed to this treatment to react any further. Dorian was comfortable in her eyes.

Meallan, however, was still entranced by Dorian's native language. He quickly began to ask about Tevinter, about the world Dorian came from - and he laughed a bit, daring to ask Dorian what sort of nickname he had for Bramen. Bramen simply rolled his eyes at that, smiling a little towards his lover.

"Go ahead, Dorian," Bramen urged, "I know Meallan'd love to hear about Tevinter."