Language is it's Own Master

Language is its own master.

Dorian searched his face for signs of anything else for the briefest of moments. His heart thudded with fading excitement that lulled in quiet joy and happiness. He was used to the Inquisitor being gone for weeks at a time, came with the position. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear or fill with less anxiety when a letter didn't come or came late. He understood that it was not possible, nor strategic for him to attend Dollan at every turn. It caused enough rumors as it was, that a tevinter mage was a member of the Inquisitions inner circle. So he would wait, wait until all of this was over. Then maybe his heart could have a break.