Ah... No, I'm not. I was first of the Lavellan clan, years ago.

[ Said with a small dismissive wave of her hand. There's an ache behind that statement, for the life that once she'd thought she'd live. It's an old ache now, growing older by the day. There were things she could no longer do, and a person she could no longer be, after having been Inquisitor. She wonders how much of that Solas had predicted. Sets aside the wondering, because it serves no point right now.

Meanwhile, Ellana is staring at Merrill, expression taking a turn for the thoughtful. Not for the mechanics of what she's talking about — trading those with magical ability to another clan less blessed (particularly from those too well blessed) with magic isn't uncommon. But... ]

The Sabrae clan which stayed around Sundermount for years.

[ And Merrill, an elf from that clan that's lived amoung the city elves. Not that Varric needs to necessarily be taken at his word, or his book at their truths (look, she's read what he's written, she can admit that much with ease), it still points toward... ]

You wouldn't happen to be Merrill, would you?

[ Derailed from talking about the joys of being elfy into the joys of being, well. Known. ]