You were walking along Skyhold's streets with your eyes on the parchment in your hands, scanning over the scribbled writing of your mentor. You are the pupil of a notorious healer under the Inquisiton, learning how to make medicine and how to apply it. You're broken out of your thoughts as you bump into a large chest, your paper fluttering to the ground as you look up at the Qunari. His horns were plated with gold, and he looks confused as well as startled. "Oh.. I'm sorry."