( Mutual intelligibility is by no means a given when the rifters all speak so many different languages, but sometimes the universes offer up a surprising parallel; an unexpected linguistic overlap. So Astrid echoes back with a guess, half-thoughtful: )

Oldegård. Old farm?

( And the next words out of her mouth are an automatic kneejerk offer which she really should’ve considered longer, but then it’s already out there. )

I should take you to the Frostbacks sometime, it sounds so much the same. Except here in Thedas, it’s colder the further south you go: tall, tall mountains and dense woods and snow on the peaks, and you’ll freeze your tits off in the winters. The snowstorms are bitter, and people say it’s harsh and unforgiving but I’ve always thought it’s beautiful up there. Like you said— when it’s so hard to survive, you have to take care of each other. When you’re holed up for the whole winter, you find ways to make it warm and cozy and comfortable at home.

We don’t really have towns, though. My people, the Avvar, we live in settlements called holds. They’re built on the edge of the mountains or sometimes even carved into them. Mine’s called Wulfhold. I’m still getting used to the big city, here.