"Sometimes the barkeep claims it has Andraste’s tears in it… if he finds a very religious one, they can even become ashes…"
The man at the bar snickered to himself, golden earring flickering slightly in the light of the lanterns and candles. He already seemed to be in a fairly good mood, his hair that was probably neatly tied back when he came in here now had strayed locks of hair covering some of his face. He was dangling his feet slightly as he was sitting and appeared to have no care in the world.
head not moving as her gaze snapped to look at the mage. He
smelled of magic. Albeit civil in his comment, the stoic elf did not
take kindly to shems in general,despite the numerous times she
was forced to work with them. They might've forgotten, but her people
hadn't. Not to mention it was rare not to hear spats of knife ears
whispers in the alley shadows. Her blue-green eyes stared and she
did not speak for a few moments. "Is that so, shem?" Quick, fluent,
an accent hanging upon her lips. And her name means little to an
elf like herself. "Such 'prizes' mean little to me. I'd find more
value in barrel of meat." Briefly, she addressed the bartender
before looking back at the human. "I'll just have an apple ale."