Now, see, this is why I'm grateful for the Dragon Age Wiki.
Carpe diem
Morgana
The Chant washes over her as she polishes her armour. Half of her, the half that has hated the Chantry for years, wants not to hear it; the other half, the one that read every book she could get her hands on and played the lute, admires its simple poetry.
"The Light shall lead her safely
Through the paths of this world, and into the next..."
Leliana's smooth tones carry each word through the camp, murmuring as she is.
A raven flies overhead, a yellow eye on them, and Morgana nods in acknowledgement as she recognises Morrigan.
She jumps, and immediately feels foolish for it, as Alistair sits beside her, joining her in the mind-numbing task, his own splintmail and waxy brush in hand. "So..." he says casually, "what are you going to do? When all this is over, I mean."
She thinks for a moment. "If we survive?" A harsh almost-laugh finds its way out of her mouth.
"Practical, aren't you?" he says lightly, with that slight hint of panic that seems to be his speciality. "But, seriously..."
She shrugs. "Something. I can't go back to the Tower again. Does that make me an apostate?"
He shakes his head. "Grey Wardens are out of the Chantry's hands. Why do you think I'm still sitting here?"
She leans back, exhales.
"She should see fire and go towards Light..."
"Honestly, Alistair? I have no idea. I could die tomorrow. Carpe diem, as they say."
She waits for him to inevitably ask what it means, but is surprised to hear him repeat, "Seize the day." He meets her eye. "My Arcanum's a little rusty. That is what it means...?"
Ah. Arcanum: one of the benefits (or curses, according to the apprentices) of a good Chantry education. Not just for the mages, it seems.
She nods. "Seems like a good motto for a Warden."
He laughs humourlessly. "More than you know." He looks uncomfortable, fidgets, seems to have trouble meeting her eye. "Look, there's something I have to tell you. About the taint, and... well, the Grey Warden lifespan."