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[Most of the page involves a sketch of a stick-figure demon bristling with arrows and knives, a cloud of bees surrounding it. Also it is on fire.]

So tha's done, right? Anyone else seen any creepy bumps in the night? I mean aside from who the sneaky tit is that's been on my roof.

My roof, you git, get your own.

Oy, Inky, you alright? I can't keep half track of who's what, but you're you. Varric's him. I'm me, yeah? But what's the plan?

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The plan, so far, involves pretty much not dying until we figure this shit out.

Heard someone saying something about the Eluvian, so I'll check on it later.

Given the last time any of us messed around with the Eluvian, do we really want to do that again?

Sure, why not?
What can possibly go wrong right now?
We are already fucked up.

For your information, I fixed said Eluvian (I think).
Just don't know how to make it work, of course.

By the way, hello Inquisitor!

Nothing bad ever happened following the phrase, "What could possibly go wrong"! Alright, I'm in.

That's what I love about you Dorian!
<3

...

Wait, sorry, you're not my Dorian, I bet, otherwise Varric would've told me. Yea, sorry.

I don't believe I am, no. But I'm not opposed to taking that place for a while. It's terribly lonely wandering around the greenish murk on my own.

That doesn't really sound right, y'know?
But I can surely accept another Dorian as my drink buddie.

Do you drink, right?

"Do I drink," What kind of man do you take me for! Of course I drink.

Okay, maybe our realities aren't that different.

That is comforting.

We could sit down and trade notes, if you'd really like. Listening to each other's life stories might serve as an excellent distraction to all this nonsense.

I couldn't agree more.

So, Herald's Rest?

There isn't anywhere else in Skyhold with as much wine and company.

I'm on my way.

This is definitely going to be explode. And it's going to be brilliant.

[the name Widdle is written with a heart shaped ring of explosions around it]

Let's hope there aren't any explosions involved, yes?

When has there ever not been an explosion? Like ever?

[a quick scribble of an explosion, this one involves what looks like... goats? And bees.]

Hush.
We're hoping for the best here.

But keep the bees, we might need them.

BEEEEEES!

[doodle of a giant exploding bee]

Yes, bees, yey.

[A complicated diagram of an explosive ordinance, including target-delivery bees and heat-seeking goat-shaped charges appears.]

What kind of sorcery is that?

Explosive chemicals and theoretical animal abuse, most likely. I'm not sure I could actually make that blueprint work.

[Sera has added lightning bolts shooting out of the goats' eyes.]

I like this one.

You two, ladies, could accomplish so much together.

Thank you. Your drawings have been very...educational. And inventive!

[The barrel of dicks makes reappearance from a page earlier in the journal, this time with additional propulsion systems. Now it's a flung barrel of dicks.]

Maybe I spoke too soon.

[From anywhere near the Herald's rest, Sera can be heard cackling with laughter.]

Thhhbbbt. Herald of No Fun at all these days.

Shame. I'm not sure how much the barrel would weigh, so the calculations might be a bit off. Not sure if the barrel would make it over the wall or not.

Don't want to be stuck here for the rest of bloody forever either. Don't care from mirrors or magic hands, I just want to go home. If the Herald says we poke the mirror, we poke the mirror. She's got all that elfy shite in her brains, yeah?

We, elfy shit, also known as the milenar knowledge of hundreds of guardians from the Temple of Mythal.

But yes, we poke the mirror and hope for the best.