Though it was a depressing thought, Elsa's answer made sense to Roran in a way. The Chantry practically dictated every day life to its followers, something Roran had been fine with growing up. She was even okay with it to this day. She didn't mind being told what to do, when do to it and with whom to do it. She figured that's why she liked being in the guard as well. Just about everything she did was an order.
But on the other hand, Roran liked to think of herself as an individual. Someone totally seperate from her peers. They were all different after all... did that not count for anything? No, not really, she thought to herself. Not when the differences are supressed and contained to make everyone the same. Another sad realization. The answer she'd gotten to her question wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting, but the evasiveness of the answer practically gave her the one she'd been looking for.
She couldn't imagine Elsa was too fond of the Chantry. If the tables were turned, Roran couldn't say she'd feel the same way about it that she did now. Putting herself in Elsa's shoes, Roran saw the unjustice of the Chantry for the first time and she didn't quite know how she felt about it. Her entire life she'd followed the Chantry almost blindly though she'd never have admitted to that last part freely.
She was pulled from her thoughts by Elsa's voice again and she refocused her gaze on the bathing woman. Was that what she'd really wanted to ask? Not entirely no. She couldn't form into words what she wanted to ask and it was frustrating. "I'm not sure how to speak what's bothering my mind," she admitted, sheepishly looking at her hands. They'd started pruning from over saturation, but she didn't think anything of it. Absentmindedly, she kept scrubbing the cloth in her hands though it was probably as clean as she was going to get it.
Roran's brow furrowed as she thought about everything presented before her. The expression on her face told everyone else that she was truly troubled by all this, but she wasn't the type to open up on a whim. She didn't feel the most comfortable airing her questions for this woman, but who else was there? Brynn would call her crazy for questioning the Chantry, as would Tristan. The rest of the guard would think her mad and if she went to one of the Sisters or even the Revered Mother, they'd all spout some verses from the Chant of Light. She didn't need to be preached to right now. She needed answers.
Unbeknowst to herself, Roran had begane scrubbing the cloth fiercely as she thought until her grip slipped from the lather and she dropped Elsa's skirt back into the washbin with a frustrated moan. Taking a deep breath she sat back in her seat and stared back into Elsa's eyes. The expression on her face made Roran want to open up to her. It was kind and trusting, like she really wanted to answer her questions. But something inside her kept Roran from opening her mouth. There was a battle raging inside her head between the two sides that couldn't go on much longer. One of them had to give soon.
Closing her eyes, Roran shook her head and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and placing her face inside her hands. After a moment, she raised her head to look at her guest. "I know not how to describe what I'm feeling, Elsa. My entire life I was taught that magic was evil. That it was bad and that those who practiced it were monsters that needed to be caged," she began. The part of her that had kept her quiet this entire time had finally lost. "But meeting you... fighting along side you... magic isn't evil. You're not evil. Andraste strike me where I sit now for saying it, but I trust you," she finished, taking another deep breath. She began to work herself up and her arms had started to twitch slightly. Releasing that breath, she calmed her nerves and sat up straighter in her seat. "I'm just confused," she admitted finally.