"There are no demons here. No darkspawn. No dragons. No magic like we know." He fell into an easy rhythm of murmuring and rocking subtly, clasping Alistair's head under his chin, hand smoothing through the sodden tufts. "There are a great many people that are strange and equally lost, all of them from worlds unlike our own. If this is the Fade? It is a terrible prison. I have found it quite pleasant."

There were no ghosts. Nothing to torment him, nothing to guilt him. No reason for him to be half so afraid even if he remained somewhat wary. "This is real, Alistair. I am real. We are not home. We are not in the fade. We are...somewhere else, somewhere quite odd- and we are freezing. You are gong to catch your death of cold."

He huffed, turning to press his lips in a teasing smack against the side of Alistair's head. "We shall get you warm and dry, I shall prepare you a proper meal and you shall have to concede that this is real. That we are, at long last, impossibly so- safe. And if this is some trick, if this is some illusion and we are both caught by this nightmare? At the very least you shall no longer be facing him alone."