As Solas broods and Felassan dodges her question, Beleth helps herself to her own cup of tea, staring into it thoughtfully. Then, she takes a long sip, eyes closed as if to savor the flavor of the brew--but it is not tea she is savoring. Rather, it is the mental image of taking her tea cup and hurling it right at both of their heads (somehow), then dragging the two of them by their stupid pointy ears into the woods and telling them to work out their issues there, lest they muck up her house with their rancid, angsty vibes.

It is a pleasant enough thought to soothe her, somewhat.

"I understand," And her voice can't help but reflect Felassan's fondness, even while pictures of bouncing crockery off his head dance in her own. "To know a halla is to know a friend. And to lose one is to lose a friend, as well. You have my condolences, for what they worth." The halla of clan Lavellan had adjusted to Wycome, when the clan settled into there. They were some of the few who didn't have any opinions to share with her when she visited, which was a welcome reprieve from those that did.

"So, would you like to answer my question? It is optional, of course, and I would hate to impose upon my guest." She takes another sip of tea, eyes turned toward window that led to the gardens. "Or if it would please you, I could fetch two sticks and let you hit each other until you solve whatever ancient grievances you've brought to my house." Her face and tone are still mild and calm, as she observes the wind rustling the vines that still have yet to be pulled down.

At least she kept the cup in her hand.