It would be a bad time to mention how shaken her faith has been these past months, with all that has happened. At the root of it, though, her love for the Maker remains. It is the Chantry that she has truly lost faith in, the cruelty that they impress upon others so relentlessly, but that is a topic for another time, and she simply nods.

"He could share a basket with Schmooples," Leliana says very lightly, before she cants her head very slightly, fixing Zevran with a look that's somewhere between-- somewhere between gratitude and understanding and certainty, because she would. She would raise him kindly, and she would guard him viciously.

"And you are my brother." It is not easy to say; she manages to make it sound as if there were nothing more natural for her to give voice.