( That little half-laugh is what Astrid was aiming for, but she can’t feel too triumphant about it yet. What do you even say to a thing like this? Three days. Three days, she thinks. The war here’s been going on for the better part of a decade, even if Astrid hasn’t been on the frontlines of it until recently; she remembers her mother helping the Inquisition when she was only a teenager. )

Then I’m sorry. That you were there in such rotten bullshit, and that they’re still there.

But— selfishly, like, for your own sake, I’m glad that you’re here instead. Because that sounds awful.