Imenry shrugged at his mention of the color of the woman's clothing. That had never been something she'd concerned herself with. She wasn't really known for her fashion sense. She wore what kept her warm. Though, to be fair, she'd never worn something of the described color. Not that she really knew what color baby vomit was. Brenn must have because of his involvement with Eirlys, a woman from their village. She'd had a son. Brennan had been considering making her family his own, hadn't he? And now they were probably dead. She closed her eyes and took in a small breath.
"What we think is sensible, others do not. If they knew what we were, what we believed, we'd be branded heathens by the Chantry. You are the only person who I can tell this to," her voice was soft as she was afraid someone outside the door might hear her in passing. "We cannot pay proper tribute to our families, to our friends. I cannot remember the last time I have closed my eyes and prayed aloud. I feel like a traitor to turn away from our gods to spare myself. To live here we must put aside everything we are, Brennan."
She sighed softly, turning her head to study the wall. "I think that I could do it, if I found a reason to settle down. But you couldn't stay here, not as a mage. After this conflict the Wardens are involved with is over you'd be safer leaving this country. There are places where mages are free... I've heard it told. Places across the sea."