#dreadwxlf

@dreadwxlf asked:

“So much we don't know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

He knew Solas was angry with him, feeling betrayed, but he had wanted his friend to see he was wrong about his views of this world and the people. That they were all strong and real. This wasn't just a dream of a world gone wrong. After all, Felassan had been walking around this world for centuries, interacting with the people, telling stories of the rebellion and Fen'Harel, spreading guidance and lore to help their people while also trying to find his missing friend.

The mage had ended up becoming a hahren to a young elven woman who was now leading her own rebellion to help their people, reminding him of Solas. So when Felassan had gotten news of the Inquisition, appearing on the front door as an apostage mage offering his aid, it came to no surprise for him to see the way Solas looked at him.

From Here

His shoulders sagged. He knew he couldn't save or help everyone he came across. Sometimes they didn't want it, for others it was too late. That didn't make it any easier.

Knowing when to stop was a skill, one he didn't know if he'd ever master. Did he want to?

Cole pulled his hands away from the soldier's wound, wiped them on his pants, and then reached out to close their eyes. They didn't get here in time.

A whole scouting party, wiped out in an ambush. How did they know they were coming? Did someone tell?

@dreadwxlf

~ " From the spirits of the Fade, mostly, " Solas answered. " Fadewalking is a skill that takes many years to learn; not to mention the extreme amount of discipline and concentration it requires. There are few mages alive that can perform it -- most reside in Tevinter. " ~

Revenelan nodded slowly with a look of solemn contemplation, a mask for the uncertainty that now plagued her mind. Never had she heard of such a feat, neither from spirit nor mentor. As Solas spoke of the rigorous discipline and concentration it demanded, Revenelan couldn't help but question whether her own abilities were unworthy, or worse, that she were deemed unfit by the Creators to be bestowed such a gift. The thought prickled her skin, and whatever admiration she felt for him was, yet again, tainted by a murky sense of jealousy. She needed to do better, to be better.

"I see," Revenelan started slowly, careful to mind the bitter edge to her voice. She continued with a thin attempt to sound lighter than she felt, "It appears the spirits have their favorites, don't they?" A forced chuckle followed, its emptiness mirroring the unsettling thoughts that lingered within her.

Though the Bann’s hair had turned white and receded there was still clear evidence of his relation to his daughter. In particular were the eyes, he had the same sharp, green eyes as Evelyn. Right now they were analyzing every detail of his daughter’s new apparent ‘suitor.’ The Bann’s focus barely grazed over Solas’s ears and instead focused on his posture, hands, jaw and eyes. Anything to give away what Solas was thinking or feeling.

“I simply don’t understand why you’d choose my youngest daughter. She has no hope of inheriting any titles from me with so many siblings ahead of her. There are other human women in Thedas; women who exceed her in rank, titles, beauty, connections and quite possibly fertility. My wife, her mother, has given me many children but that’s no indication that my daughter can do the same for you. The mark took her arm and though she still has her monthly blood that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s able to carry a child to term.” The head of the Trevelyan family didn’t spare his daughter so much as a glance as he spoke. Neither did his daughter’s gaze turn to him. She sat beside him, hand resting in her lap as her father spoke, face like a blank canvas as her father verbally tore her down.

“Once, my daughter did lead armies. Once she was the woman even empresses looked to for salvation as she killed dragons and would-be gods. Now she’s nothing more than a crippled woman who still has trouble writing certain letters and spends her days in her greenhouse pruning poisonous plants.” Evelyn remained still and silent through it all, watching Solas the entire time and not revealing her feelings on anything her father said.

@athlan-lansila sent: ❝ Look, it’s a natural thing to be curious about! ❞

~ " For a twelve-year-old! " Solas immediately countered. " You have been spending far too much time with Sera and Blackwall; I do not sleep with spirits. " ~

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~   Though Solas would deny any attraction to Lavellan, the red tint of his ears certainly indicated otherwise. He could have sworn the squawk Harellan let out had been a laugh. ~

~   “ That is hardly necessary, ” he replied, mouth pulled into a thin line ( and cheeks growing even redder ). “ And I’ve no idea what you speak of. I pay close attention to Lavellan because she is an important asset -- nothing more. ” ~

Dirthamen chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Oh, I'm sure she has quite a few assets, that require your close attention", he continued to tease, "Which I am sure, is the only reason, why you keep glancing at her swaying hips, whenever her back is turned to you, yes?"

The streets of Haven seemed to close in on Lavellan as he tried to avoid the countless strangers questioning him. Everyone seemed to either want to know every detail about him, or they had already formed an entire story about him in their heads. Many were disappointed to find out that he was an elf, and consequently, that he wasn't quite as tall as they'd imagined.

Most commonly, the strangers seemed to regard him as some sort of religious figure, which he tried to deny, but they kept going on about a lady named "Andraste" and someone they called "the Maker". He didn't know who those people were, but he stopped seeking clarification after the first man he'd asked seemed to get upset rather quickly and mumbled something about him being an... "ignorant knife-ear"?