"Maker," and there's a touch more dread in his voice than fully necessary. "I've read that man's writing. I don't want Varric anywhere near a song about me."

Ahead of them, the Inquisitor lets out a sound of triumph when her scavenged gears open yet another door, this one spilling out into a cavern. Dorian pauses as he regards it. It's breathtaking, admittedly, with old dwarven statues illuminated by fissures in the land above, and all that expansive emptiness stretching out beyond them.

In a whisper meant mostly for the Bull, "Well. I'm not sure whether to be humbled or horrified."