[Almost instinctively she freezes. That nickname was usually between her and Riona and yet this woman used it so easily, her voice soft like a caress. It made her stomach drop. Had this been how Alistair had felt not knowing Riona? This caged feeling of dread. She couldn't imagine hurting Riona by not knowing her but this person - she didn't know her. What was she to do with that?

It had been amusing to imagine her with a Warden mage, an Amell, as Alistair had told her, but this woman wasn't an Amell. She was an elf and a fierce and prideful woman by the look of her. She knew her own strength and in that Leliana saw bits of herself reflected back at her. We must have been close...]

He could be connected to some slave traders I've been investigating.

[She keeps her expression neutral, her words as cool as a pond that rippled outward around her. She didn't want to hurt this person, whoever she was. She could still remember the relief on Riona's face when she realized that she knew her. She didn't want to cause someone else pain for that relief.

Wheels still turning in her head, Leliana approaches, resting a hand against the back of the man's neck with a soft yet sinister curve of her lips.]

Talk, or I would be worried for the state of your spine. She could mean what she says.