第8页:多利安和塞拉(英)
展开多利安和塞拉(英)
Dorian: Where did you get all those arrows, Sera? You've got hundreds.
Sera: From your arse!
Dorian: Well my arse should open up a shop! Apparently it's quite prolific.
Dorian: Indulge me, Sera. What do you think of when I say "demon?"
Sera: Arrows.
Dorian: Fine. "Magister?"
Sera: Arrows.
Dorian: Not helpful. But given our history, I'll accept it. "Thaumaturgy?"
Sera: What?
Dorian: Magical endeavors. Helpful wonders.
Sera: Ohhh. Arrows.
Dorian: (Sighs.)
Dorian: I can't believe you're scared of magic, Sera. It's a gift as mundane to me as your bow to you. Surely you see there's nothing to fear in a properly used tool?
Sera: Tell that to all the "proper" mages wavin' their tools in peoples' faces.
Dorian: There's an image.
Sera: What about Coryphemus? How many "proper tools" does he have under him?
Varric: (if in party) Not hardly enough, if you ask me.
Sera: And the rebel mages? How many "proper tools" have they raised?
Dorian: That's not-- I don't think I can continue.
Sera: Right, well, I don't care how gifted you are. Don't cram it where it's not wanted.
Vivienne: (if in party) Maker, how does she not know?
Blackwall: (if in party) (Laughs)
Cole: (if in party) I'm lost.
Sera: What, Dorian? Stop looking at me.
Dorian: I'm wondering if familiarity would cure your suspicion of magic.
Sera: I don't need to be familiar with your tool.
Dorian: Please stop saying "tool," and consider how much magic can accomplish. There are benefits for you and everyone; as the Maker said, "magic exists to serve."
Sera: I don't care. I like you, Dorian. Don't ruin it.
Sera: Your Magisters. They all like Corphy-face?
Dorian: Not quite. Corypheus is one-of-a-kind. An original darkspawn, it turns out.
Sera: I mean, are the all crazy? Wanting to be gods? "Muahahaha!" like that?
Dorian: Oh, that. Not all of them, but enough.
Sera: And you let them live? Why?
Dorian: There's always more where they come from. Men like Corypheus aren't born, they're made.
(If the Inquisitor is in a romance with Dorian)
Sera: You and the Inquisitor, hey? What is that like? Jousting?
Dorian: Fewer horses, marginally. More cheering, definitely.
Sera: (Laughs) Nice.
Sera: You don't laugh like a Tevinter.
Dorian: How is a Tevinter supposed to laugh, exactly?
Sera: Cruel and stupid, like... (cackles.)
Dorian: Oh no. You're not allowed to laugh like that until you get your magister license.
Sera: Knew it! Varric owes me a sovereign.
(If Inquisitor is not in a romance with Iron Bull or Dorian)
Sera: (laughs)
Dorian: Something particularly funny?
Sera: You. And Bull. (laughs)
Dorian: I-I'm glad it amuses you, but what I get from my affairs is my affair.
Sera: I know what you get.
Sera: It's like falling through a tree into custard.
Sera: Too high! Wham! Too fast! Wham! Leaves! Wham! Splat!
Dorian: I'm not sure which is worse, the mockery or the accuracy.
Iron Bull: (if in party) Eh, depends how much rest the trees had.
Cole: (if in party)Leaves.
Varric: (if in party) Leaves?
(If Inquisitor is in a romance with Sera)
Dorian: I see you're having fun with your illustrious paramour.
Sera: What? Is it showing?
Dorian: (if Inquisitor is a mage) No! Ugh, no! I meant you appear to be enjoying your new relationship.
Dorian: You couldn't ask for a more personal introduction to magic.
Sera: She's different, so it doesn't matter.
Dorian: It's that simple?
Sera: Could be. Why not?
Dorian: (if Inquisitor is not a mage) I meant you appear to be enjoying your new relationship.
Sera: Then why didn't you say that?
Dorian: I did, in words you apparently don't understand.
Sera: What's the point of words you know, but others don't? Who would you say them to?
Dorian: Let me do us both a favor and retract the question.
Sera: Pity, because we're great. That's why I'm following her around with weirdies.
Sera: Demons! Flappy robes!
Dorian: Thieves! Dog stink!
Sera: Culty shits!
Dorian: Treacherous teyrns!
Sera: What? It's not a proper game of 'Your people are shit' if you make up words!
Dorian: Teyrn is a Fereldan title, beneath only the family of the king. I'd have expected you of all people to know that.
Sera: You're...well, that's...Smartasses!
Dorian: Too late! I believe that's my round.
Sera: Piss!
Dorian: I can't figure you out, Sera.
Sera: That's a surprise, innit?
Dorian: You just picked up a bow one day, and poof! Expert marksman! A veritable savant!
Sera: A what?
Dorian: A savant. A natural. Meaning you needed no training.
Sera: Not your business if I do or didn't. Like I don't ask if you "naturally" shoot fireballs out your arse, or just opinions.
Dorian: I'll... keep that in mind.
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