[He scoffs out a laugh, sharp and stark between them, and rolls over to face Astarion once more. He's squirming a lot, he thinks distantly. Wriggling about in his bedroll like an overexcited pup, too delighted by this conversation to contain himself. It's no bad thing, not really, but it does tug at him.]

Shocking that the foolishness of mages carries across wo— realms.

[Of course it does. Of course it does, and there's a thought that could infuriate him if he dwells on it— so he won't.]

But I can predict the end of that story, I think. He, in theory, ousted the elves from their magical realm, destroying their kingdoms and bringing down a calamity unlike any other. And now they've suffered and scraped for an eternity because of it, always repressed and always enslaved. Correct?

[He doesn't wait for an answer (what would be the point, when surely he's right) before continuing:]

Perhaps we simply use different terms, and our realms are far more similar than we first surmised.