[Zevran purses his lips at the statement. Dalish elves. Shaking his head, he lets the thought leave his mind. That wasn't fair. It wasn't a Dalish thing, it was a this-particular-elf thing.]

Capable still doesn't mean it's a good idea. We have no idea what's out there.

[It's rather amazing that he's able to do that at all out here, without a forge, and he falls silent while he watches for a bit. Not that he's about to act impressed. Zevran watches Abelas grumpily inspect his armor, and then summon the flame again. Maybe he should mention the mage--wizard, he corrects himself.

And then he sits there, staring off into the quiet woods for a bit longer, leaning back and forth over mentioning it, since he's about as fond of this man as this man is of him, but eventually practicality wins out and he rolls his eyes up to the heavens for a second.]

...There's a fellow here who can repair that, perhaps. Magically. It's quite impressive, I had no idea that was a thing people could do.