Digging her thumbs into the base of Korrin's neck, small circles of Korrin's grey skin begin to appear where she works, stopping only once she's sure that particular knot is gone to resume work with the heels of her hands a little further down between her shoulderblades. Carrying a staff and riding can't be the most comfortable of combinations; it might be another thing to ask a few of the other mages next time she has the chance, maybe when she's off on assignment. More paint swirls away into the water, though true to Korrin's word it takes more effort than she'd thought it would.

"Ugh, the kaddis stinks. Soldiers keep offering it for Lux." And no but try explaining subtlety to soldiers, especially when so many of them are Fereldans with dogs that easily twice as much as she would in a soaking wet ballgown. "This doesn't smell, so the Avvar have that in their favour but doesn't it hurt? Without any sort of support? Mine are hurting in sympathy for yours, just so you know.

Mal too? What happened to Mal?" Tattoo talk would usually instantly garner Araceli's attention but there's a slosh as she leans forward so she can look at Korrin because she doesn't know Mal very well but she does like him, and that's worrying to say, with Asher dead and Korrin just back from a funeral.