#etherealdreamt

The elven paladin is taken by surprise at his comment, cheeks turning red from it. She didn't think that about herself. In fact, she always thought she had trouble talking with others, but then again, she had been raised in a temple most of her life. She was used to interacting with the others there or constantly having them by her side. She was not used to going about things alone.

"Aw, you're too sweet to me, Halsin. I appreciate it. I also find you easy to talk to as well." Out of all in the camp, Solara found his company to be the most welcomed. She could sense how warm and kind and honest he was. It practically resonated with her Oath of the Ancients and it was nice to find someone else dedicated to protecting nature and life itself. "The natural world always needs protectors. It is good to see I'm not alone in this."

It also helped in knowing another wood elf, even if she never got the chance to know that side of herself, just watching and learning through the druid was enough. Maybe that was the reason the Morninglord had her cross paths with him? "How are you holding up in camp?"

Green eyes go wide at his words. The gods once stood in this very room? The weight of the words hit her, making her breath hitch, taking it all in. She had been looking to Solas as a source of knowledge and wisdom, listening to all he had to tell her and teach her. And for that reason, he couldn't be wrong about this.

It made a chill go down her spine, even as she felt the magic and him reach into the Fade. She saw the memory take shape, coming to life, as she gasped. The Evanuris -- her gods she had been raised with -- stood before them, though looking like ghosts to her. Ellana wasn't sure how to feel, but her heart was somehow filled with anger and hurt.

However, her eyes were drawn to Mythal first, walking over to the goddess and studying her. Why did she want to cry looking upon her? And why did this all seem so strangely familiar? Perhaps it was because of the stories the hahren told around a campfire, or the strange dreams she would have? Either way, it made her unconsciously touch the vallaslin of Mythal's adorning her face.

Her eyes scanned over the rest before finally landing on the last of them, walking over to observe the hooded figure known as the Dread Wolf -- the Lord of Tricksters -- He Who Hunts Alone. She couldn't see his face or make out what he looked like, which only made her curiosity grow more, bringing back memories of her childhood.

"He doesn't look as scary as the tales make him out to be. He looks...well, I can't really see what he looks like, but he appears to be...just a man." It only made her feel more sorry for him.

With this, she chuckles warmly, recalling a memory. "I never told you, but...believe it or not, I used to be a handful as a child. My clan Keeper and Hahren had a field day with me. Said I was rebellious because I would constantly question things and get into trouble. One night, I stumbled away from camp to visit a Fen'Harel statue nearby. I wanted to leave some spiced jerky behind because I heard he likes it, but also because..." with this, she briefly pauses, a sad look crossing on her face before continuing. "I feel sorry for him. Yes, he betrayed our gods, but...there must be more to the story, right? Some texts or something that didn't survive? There has to be a reason he did what he did?"

She knew what it was like to be an outcast too, to feel like you didn't fit into anything or belong. Tears started to fill her eyes as she quickly wiped them away, knowing she was letting her emotions get the best of her. "No one should be alone."

And then she saw the memory fade.

"I swear, whenever we come here, it feels like breathing in poison."

Sypha's willingness to remain in Wallachia hung by a thread those days. Perhaps if they forced themself to visit the very place where it happened, it would magically resolve the turmoil in their heart that had been planted since childhood. Witnessing their coven be burned alive, the stench of scorched flesh and the air congested with smoke... It's all Sypha saw despite the warm, sunny day the pair woke up to that morning.

The last night of the year was falling gently, painting the sky in bright colors that would soon become black. With it, came the added cold, which the newly-titled Inquisitor was attempting to fight by striding around the hold and checking in on people.

Ellana is taken by surprise at his words, feeling honored to receive such high praise from him. Even as he says she inspires hope and trust, it ignites a spark within her, making her feel that she is following her purpose. All she wants is to help others and make the future brighter, encouraging the same feeling in others.

Hearing how she makes him drawn to her because of it, she can't help but smile warmly, green eyes looking to him. "Thank you for the compliment, vhenan, but...I wouldn't sell yourself short either. You have a wonderful gift as well. You are knowledgeable, have a good sense of judgement, and inspire this optimism in me too. I could not do this without your help."

She pauses, looking back to the beauty that is all of Skyhold from the balcony. It was a good place to wake up and watch the sunrise as she did every morning. It also helped to inspire her and help her get through the day, knowing others would be able to get to see more sunrises.

With this, she chuckles, continuing on. "I've heard others whispering of how the Inquisition is a rebellion, dealing with the Mage-Templar war and the Orlesian Civil War on top of everything else Corpyheus is also throwing at us. I guess it could be. Rebellions are built on hope." A strange sense of Deja Vu hits her, but she shakes it off. "And if that's what I inspire then -- I'm glad to rebel. And I'm glad you're with me, Solas. I could drink to that!" She salutes, sipping some of her wine.

 @etherealdreamt // continued.

            ❀  ‘  THAT  WOULD  INSIST  SOME  MEN  ARE  DULL  ENOUGH  TO  ENJOY  ODDITIES  ‘  the  sharp  jest  was  in  contrast  as  she  chuckled,  shaking  her  head.  Hands  resting  on  the  soft  fabric  of  her  pale  blue  gown,  a  contrast  to  the  slivers  of  red  that  always  found  way  upon  her,  whenever,  wherever.  The  lute  rests  softly  against  her  leg,  played  a  thousand  times  to  keep  the  wigglers  in  each  brain  at  bay,  a  gruesome  thought  but  it  seemed  to  work  with  the  gentle  dozing  sounds  she  could  hear  from  a  distance,  tranquil  as  it  was  peaceful.  “You  flatter  me  too  much,  the  truth  is  becoming  less  of  a  thought  I  want  to  provoke  anymore.  Father’s  demands  are  rather  grotesque,  sometimes,  I’m  keen  to  deception  more  than  anything”  nothing  good  came  for  a  bhaalspawn  in  the  midst  of  slumber,  even  if  there  were  night’s  favoritism  was  shown,  an  oblivion  that  would  grant  her  peace  in  slumber  only  to  be  met  in  a  cold  sweat.  Silence,  it  was  worse  than  when  the  Dread  Lord  demanded  attention. 

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚 💋 & 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐜𝐡 / closed !

ADRENALINE WAS PULSING THROUGH HER VEINS. she could feel her heart pounding in her chest — hear it in her ears. that had been far too close a call and haelia knew she was still fairly in shock. there had been far more darkspawn than she had anticipated during that little run-in. and, unfortunately, she had found herself almost frozen in place when an ogre decided to show its ugly mug. it had made her think back to that night as ostagar. how close she, alistair and theron had all come to losing their lives in that tower. 

attempting a calming breath, haelia got to her feet. she wabbled a bit as she took a few steps towards her elven companion. if it hadn’t been for him, and that last shot he had taken, she would have been pulverized. ❛ you saved me, ❜ while she easily would have done the same for him, the young noble was still extremely grateful. so much so that she was unable to stop herself from taking theron’s face in her hands and eagerly pressing her lips to his. by the time she pulled back, she was truly breathless. though the look of utter appreciation did not leave her gaze. ❛ thank you. i don’t know what i — thank you. ❜