"I can imagine," Clara says between bites of her apple. She reaches behind her, where she has a second apple she snagged from the kitchens just for him. She tosses it to him. (Ducking away to avoid the cook's wrath just in time, which seems to make the apples taste all the sweeter in her opinion.) "I wonder who was getting closer to changing colors: Cullen or Cassandra?"

She imagines Cullen; Cassandra has always been more level-headed than most in the Inquisition. With the exception of the whole...Varric hiding where Hawke was the entire time incident.

Clara smiles at the familiar weight of Aedan's hand on her shoulder. Above all else, it's a relief just to be able to have this brief bit of peace with her dear older brother.

"I'm...I think I'm doing better than I expected, honestly," she says, letting herself be honest with her brother in ways she never lets herself be with other people. "Working on trying to find solutions is helping, at least." She turns to look at him, concern clear in her expression.

"And dear brother, how are you holding up?"

He's the Inquisitor; he carries the whole weight of the world on his shoulders every day. She doesn't envy him that, especially not now, not after...everything that just happened at the Exalted Council.