( His brow furrows, a tense look on his face as he inspects the arm. It was true, and unfortunate - something Solas knew as soon as he found his own Inquisitor riddled with the magic of the orb he used to carry. At the time, he had tried to swallow the guilt, to allow it due to necessity. But, it still stung, yet another mistake he had made.

Solas passes a hand over Cyril's arm, giving it a shot of cooling healing magic as he calms the nerves, settling the magic still coursing through the arm. )

There. That should calm it for a while. Please tell me if it becomes active; it is not too difficult for me to control at the moment.