It being any better or worse than any city slum was neither here nor there. Rhocanth wished to ask more, but surprisingly Bethen didn't sound unhappy. He let his mouth hang a little, steps sedate, debating upon his words. At last, he sighed, and turned his chin up to the hall before them once more. "I have been to Lothering," he said with a hint of some delicacy in his voice. Bludgeoning a mage with questions was not worth angering pretty Miss Bethen. "On the way here. It was my first time in a Chantry. I find that I don't mind traveling, and I greatly enjoy night. Stars, and this animal called an owl. The owl was beautiful beyond belief, Miss." For show, he rounded his hands and stuck them over his own eyes. "Incredible, luminous eyes, like liquid gold. The color of the rivers of rock in Orzammar. The surface lends itself well to metaphor. It makes it quite easy on my writing."