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The Herald's Rest was mostly dark and silent, except for the fire lit in the great hearth casting flickering shadows about the walls, and the blue glow emanating from a certain apostate sitting before the fire next to Marian Hawke.

Anders took a deep breath and the fade cracks receded from his skin. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and cradled a mostly-empty mug of some piss-quality ale in his free hand.

"Sorry," he said, yet again. "We've all but given up Justice's return to the Fade being a possibility. Really, I think he expected to die when I did. Seeing as I didn't, that leaves us both in a bit of a lurch." He looked into the flames with a frown.

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"I had half a mind to join you when I saw who it was," Dorian commented, glancing to Varric again. Briefly, his brow wrinkled in concern. It passed as he turned back to Isabela. "But he looks like he could use a moment to get friendly with that bottle first."

"'Interesting' certainly is one way to describe it!" he laughed openly. "I would say it's beautiful. Magical. Learned. Charming." It wasn't really clear anymore if Dorian was talking about the Imperium or himself. He welcomed the refreshed drink and smiled over the rim of his mug at her in thanks.

"If you're expecting me to wax poetic about your exquisite taste in accessories and company, I really will need to know more about where you come from. The Siren's Call, was it? Am I drinking with a pirate?"

"I can't say I'm surprised you know Varric. He knows everyone." She topped off her own cup and drank deeply before continuing. "And yes, he needs the drink. Fortification, the best kind."

She touched a hand to the heavy jewelry around her neck and smiled, an impish thing that lit up her face. "The Siren's Call II is my ship. So yes, sweetness, I'm a pirate. You caught me." She winked. "Though it's not like I'm trying to hide it. But I'm from Rivain originally." She tapped her lips in thought, trying for serious but the glint in her eyes gave her away. "Our countries make quiet nice bookends for Antiva."

The impish smile grew. "And oh, Antivans do like being bookended. Take that for what you will." She waved a hand at him. "But enough about me. Do tell me about you. What made you leave Tevinter?"

"It sounds like Antiva would be in a horrible conundrum if we ever teamed up to invade," Dorian replied, mimicking Isabela's suggestive tone. He laughed as the pirate brought up the most frequently asked question, but didn't mind answering since it was about his favorite subject: him.

"The first time I left because my family decided to buy into the twisted perfection-at-any-cost society that the rest of Thedas is so against. Blood magic, and all that," he said it as if it were nothing, but there was a twinge in his face reading that it really did not sit well with him. "My own father didn't approve of the way I kept myself, and I wasn't about to sit around and let him force me to change. This time was not by my choice, however. I'm pretty sure I died, hence the whole 'in the fade' part. Though I've come to understand I might be the odd man out in that regard."

"Would they ever!" Isabela laughed, tipping her head, jewelry winking in the light.

But the minute she faced him again, her expression had gone stone cold. "Blood magic and death, did you say?" Her hand slipped down her side, fingers resting on the dagger handle at her hip. "So, what are you? A demon? A spirit? Some remnant of a life long gone?"

The dagger was suddenly at Dorian's throat, Isabela's hard eyes locked on its' point. "Tell me, demon, why I shouldn't kill you now."

Dorian stayed very still with the sharp edge against his skin. But he wasn't tense. He was a little too used to danger at this point to be afraid of a pirate's threat. At least he lost the smile and put on his serious face.

"A life very recently gone. While no one's sense of time is entirely accurate in the fade, I'd say only three days gone at this point," he answered. A finger came up to very gently ease the dagger away. "And if you would kindly stop assuming things for a moment, I can assure you that I would never turn to blood magic myself. Demons even less so. I am from Tevinter. I am even a noble! But I am not the stereotype you Southerners tend to imagine."

Isabela huffed, the flinty edge to her voice softening as she could hear truth in the man's reply. That, and the unflinching way he dealt with being held at dagger-point made his words more believable.

"Fine, fine." She put the dagger away. "So tell me the story, Ser Pavus. Tell me all about how the Tevinter mage isn't like all the others. And make it a good one. It's getting bloody boring here."

That impish smile was back, but it had lost some its' glimmer and charm. Isabela could feel the pull of the Fade. It was distant, like a dull thump in the back of her mind and honestly, she was getting a little sick of this place. Might as well be entertained, it was as good as a distraction...well, almost as good as any.

A half-full bottle of wine was nearby, which she quickly grabbed and handed to Dorian. "Start talking. Any time I think you're lying, or even exaggerating, you drink. And then I'll drink. It will be fun."