"No, you're not." She spits back, and she's small, even for an elf, but she half wants to swing at him for claiming such a thing. She is not a violent person, someone who grieves each intelligent life she has to take, but she sting aches at the loss of her brother, and she won't stand for someone doing... whatever this is. "You're not my brother, and he was the Keeper's first. Everyone knew that," she finally manages to get out.

She takes a step back, half to keep herself from doing something foolish half to stay away from him. And yet she looks at the mark, knows its identical to the one her own palm, and it doesn't make sense. She was the only survivor, it was the first thing Cassandra told her and Creators she wishes the woman was here. Cassandra and her natural leadership, her critical mind and she's come to rely on that second voice.

But there's just her and him and Eliana stares at his hand, clenches her own as a frown forms
"How do I know you're not a demon, a trick. Maybe this is the fade and you're something... something else." She's grasping at straws, searching her brain for information Solas has given her and coming up empty.