Feri leaned back with a content sigh, stretching her sore muscles and folding her hands behind her head, cupping it as she reclined. Rannon seemed far more at ease now; the flickering of the fire bringing out new shades of light in his hair and eyes - as for the latter, perhaps he was just happier? Feri was sure the colour of one's eyes could change with emotion. Anger can light flames of fury in iris', or dull any once-inviting hue to a harsh cold. As for Rannon, his eyes seemed to do the same. Feri had never considered gray to be an appealing colour in the least; after spending only a day with the Ferelden soldier, she was beginning to think differently of it.

As he answered her question, Feri's hand seemed to make it's way back to Gideon's fur, petting the hound in a very familiar manner. The Mabari seemed not to mind; in fact, from what she could tell, he'd taken to her quite nicely. He was curled up by her side, after all - but then again, his eyes were glued to the cooking pot. Perhaps he was wanting some more jerky? At Rannon's query however, she paused in her stroking of the hound's fur as she straightened up, a grin on her face.

"Oh, you were, were you?" She asked, a mischievous tone in her voice. "If you're wanting lessons, I'll have to say no. I'm pretty good, but you're way too big to handle something that delicate." Laughing lightly, she pulled one of her knives from it's scabbard, stroking the edge of the blade lightly with her forefinger. "They belonged to my father - he's the one that taught me how to use them. Taught me most things about fighting actually. My Mother wanted me to learn something sturdier, more dangerous. I remember him laughing at her, at the notion that because something is small, it's safe." Looking back to Rannon, she tossed the blade in the air, catching it nimbly by the hilt and twirling it around effortlessly. While slightly showing off, it was more of a hobby for her to do things like that. The more dexterous you were with it, the more damage you could inflict.

"It's all about balance, you see. And not just the balance of the blade, but of the situation. Big guy like yourself with a big sword, you can storm on in and most definitely inflict some damage, and at a good arm's distance away from your enemy too. With knives like these, you have to be a bit more careful. Choose your opponent, where you'll attack them, and use everything you possibly can to your advantage. Balance the good outcomes against the bad - then make your mark." She shrugged then, placing the blade carefully back in it's scabbard. "But I'm no expert. Certainly pretend to be, but I'm far from mastering the art of duelling - I'm just glad it can keep me alive in this blighted world."

As the stew continued to bubble, she couldn't help but notice how quickly Rannon had changed the subject of his home. As far as she knew, Ironbrook had been free of calamities, and was a good way away from the Darkspawn horde. Had he lost someone there, to avoid the subject so? Or perhaps he was just homesick?

[@POOHEAD189]