“Probably not.”

No, that’s a mild habit he has to correct, forcing the edges of a wry grin to slip down into a sincere, openly discomfited line. Denial only gets one so far, and Fenris’ fingers pressed against his palm are far too real. “Let’s just say it’s a lot less forgiving than water. And a lot quicker to get the job done.”

He flexes his own fingertips, letting a few brush  against Fenris’ in passing when he withdraws in favor of more wine. It doesn’t improve his mood, but...sometimes rituals are comforts in and of themselves, no effectiveness required.

“It’s been about a week now— at least since I first noticed it. Could’ve been going on longer for all I know. But headaches on bright days were the start, going away in shade or at night, whichever came first. It’s been getting a little more difficult to trespass without doubling back on my own footsteps and now— ”

He sighs, lifting a hand high in some throwaway gesture.

“Now nightmares, as if I needed yet another reminder.”

Or maybe an impetus. Either way.

“Might not be too late, though. I could always try tapping into it before it’s gone. Getting us back to Thedas.”