[Anders smiles, like that's a joke he's heard before. To some extent it is— the Circle tended to be split evenly down the middle between the fervently devout and the harshly disillusioned. The way the Chantry preaches, he can't exactly blame any mage for skewing toward the latter.

He stays close enough so that neither of them are in any danger of jostling that touch, even when he turns away from the preparations towards where the shuttles are waiting for them to finish.]

And smited the madness right out of their skulls? [beat] Exoskeletons. [beat] Whatever. The point is, that's a bit more hands on than the Maker's been for a long time, isn't it?

[The Maker turned His back, the way he sees it. Gone, probably for good. He isn't sticking His hands between them like a tutting father, lifting some people up with one hand while He strikes the rest down with the other. Anders wouldn't call it cynicism, in fact appreciates the feeling of a truly impartial judge, though most of the Chantry priests would probably disagree.

The Maker created him with love. If He doesn't welcome Anders back with it once his life is finished, well, it won't be because he was born with magic.]