Burning Dragon Fire

A loaded declaration. The thought meant more each time Solas had it. In this instance, Sera had been blabbing about news at Skyhold when that feeling struck him. Solas was busy, near constantly at the Inquisitor's side, on most, if not all, quests. Naturally, news of arrivals and recruits, as numerous as they were, failed to reach his ears. So, Sera's crude description of a woman who was "hot, for an elf" and "scary, for an elf" who could also "turn into a frikkin' dragon" was the first Solas heard of this.

Those descriptions alone were enough to catch his breathing in his throat. Then came her clarification. This was a dragon who could turn into an elf. Sera thought it "lame" but Solas heartbeat quickened pace. In all of the history Solas knew, only one dragon could ever take elven form.

"Varewyn."

After Sera had said her piece, everything was a blur. Whatever missions they did, whatever people they saved, whatever people they killed? Solas retained none of it. Only one thing was on his mind.

     She had always been met with leery glances and distrustful whispers. Dragons, in general, were both villainized and victimized throughout history; the idea of one being SENTIENT made people uncomfortable. Having one close often meant safety was at risk.

     Despite her self imposed isolation (greatly supported by Cullen, unsurprisingly), she did not stay ignorant to the inner workings of the organization. She had heard idle gossip about the Inquisitor and their companions. Very few of the rumors she'd heard interested her, certainly not talk of a simple elven apostate.

     Until that elven apostate stood before her, her name falling from his lips, the sound echoing through her memories. His voice so familiar, one she'd imagine had long faded from this world.

     She's stunned into silence, stunned into inaction (both very rare for her character) as his arms wrap around her and squeeze. The sensation is trapping, unfamiliar, how long had it been since she'd last been embraced ? Truly embraced ?

     ❝ You're alive. ❞

     Eventually, the dragon wraps her slender arms around his torso with crushing force. She buries her face into the crook of his shoulder and just lingers there, savoring the reunion. She had been alone for so long. After a while she raises her head to gaze into his eyes - her own confused and searching.

Starter Call for @drackonfyre

The battle between the Inquisitor and the Chantry Sisters resident at Skyhold was well known at this point. Their constant denial of being the Herald of anything notwithstanding, the Inquisitor had made a point of praying to their own Gods any chance they got - and the Sisters had made a point of trying to stop it. And so the shrine-hopping game began. The Inquisitor would set up a place to pray and the Sisters would dismantle it, only for Atreion to find newer, more difficult places to hide it. With neither side willing to back down the frustration only grew, and it was only a matter of time before their hot-tempered leader exploded.

Not yet, though. Today the shrine was a sanctuary from it all. Away from the world in a disused tower, ivy and moss covering the cracked stone, it felt like a different world than the one in the court below. The Inquisitor's face was smoothed of all trouble, kneeling quiet and at peace before an earthen bowl of incense. For a moment, he looked frozen in time, and then a pebble skittered across the floor and he whipped around, temper blazing before anyone could even speak.

     Varewyn has to hold back a smirk - instead she contorts her face into a mask of feigned OFFENSE. Hand flies to her chest, clutching at the material of her dress, while she simply shakes her head in disapproval. Oh how she loved jesting and teasing those around her; poking and prodding and antagonizing. It was a game to her. Atreion simply had the misfortune of becoming her latest victim.

     ❝ You're lucky I like you, Atreion. ❞

     Their name falls from her tongue like poison - sharp, deadly. But she relents from her games and allows her lips to curl into a wicked grin. Her head cants to the right in curiosity, her eyes immediately drawn to the shrine they knelt before. The sight causes her to draw in a quick breath; it triggers memories of the days of old, it forces her to think about all that has been lost.

My apology but simply cant work more with this one - I have a lot to finish up in a reasonable time on my plate so hope you still can treasure this as a little gift for you theguardiian !

@drackonfyre || LIKED for a STARTER

He knows not how he has gotten so far from his clan, he knows not that the weather upon the horizon through the thick line of trees nor the pending drop in temperature. All he knew was that he had been walking for some few hours in an attempt to track a heard of deer but had failed miserably once more, and now? Now his chest pain grew worse and his head grew heavier-

Finally does he relent, does he sit himself down within the lush grass and mossy outcrops; legs outstretched and head leaning against the curve of a rock. Exhaustion made him feel sick, the immensity of it far worse than his own comprehension but for a moment - just one - does he lay there peacefully and simply listen to the wildlife surrounding.

'T is with a start that he wakes, mind reeling and heart thumping - only to witness darkness surrounding. While he dozed the sun had set, leaving him vulnerable in the width of the outdoors - eyes darting left to right in order to focus only to find himself all the more disorientated.

Moreso when the sounds of movement caught within his long ears;

     ❝ What exactly do you intend to do with that ? ❞

     She fixes her unnatural gaze to the bow that the other was quickly reaching for. Perhaps she should be concerned - after all, an arrow to the chest would not be very comfortable. She'd shake it off, return to her true form to heal, and be DONE with the ordeal within days. But that was a scenario she wished to avoid; conflict was not at the forefront of her mind at that particular moment.

     A few silent, stalking steps are taken towards the elf as the beginnings of a flame dance across the dragon's fingertips. Better safe than sorry - a small threat promise of her own.