Alistair nudges his horse until he's pulled alongside Cullen, eyes on the lake.

Since his return from the Fade, he's come to appreciate the little pockets of stillness that arise here and there; the moments -- and places -- where he feels safest, where his mind quiets down to a whisper as the tension uncoils from his shoulders. This...well, it's not like he knows the lake, but it's still easy to see how it became a refuge for Cullen. Alistair can picture him as a boy, years before they met, sitting at the edge of the dock and listening to the water lap the shoreline.

It's quiet. Peaceful. Safe.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs.