ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsolas  knows  HE  IS  HIS  OWN  DOWNFALL,  that  his  ego  and  unthinking,  his  rash  behavior,  comes  at  the  expense  of  everyone  around  him,  as  ashalle  grips  firm  his  arm  to  steady  herself.     her  laughter  rings  between  them  like  bells,  beautiful  and  melodic,  and  unknowingly  full  of reverence.     he  made  the  comment  to  himself  only  moments  ago  that  he  should  train  her,  but  when  she  asks  him,  suddenly  the  dread  in  his  name  rears  its  head  in  his  mind.     HE  SHOULD  NOT  TEACH  HER ;  why  would  he  even think  it ?     what  could  possess  him  to  feel  as  though  her  improvement  in  this  field  would  in  any  way  benefit  his  duty  in  the  long  run ?     he  has  attempted  the  quiet  dalish  life,  assumed  a  role  of  teacher  and  been  bitten  for  it  too  many  times.     the  elven  of  now  have  proved  over and over  that their  ware  is  greater  than  heed ;  they are not his people, they are not the same. what  part of  ashalle  marks  her  different  from  them ?

he  knows  the  answer,  and  does  not  want  to  confront  his  own  misgivings :  she  bears  her  sigil,  her  fire,  her  wonderance,  her  values.     his  obsession  is  carved  on  her  face,  the  same  mark  he  wore,  the  branches  that  reach  underskin  and  hold  firm  to  his  heart.     every part of ashalle is a remnant of the woman he loved, of the woman he failed. he does not want to fail her as he has failed before, and solas does not want to think on what that implies. he  should  not  teach  her ;  WHY  IS  HE  GOING  TO,  THEN ?          "  i  can  think  of  no  finer  student.     tell  josephine  to  reassign  your  old  trainer ;  I  WILL  TAKE  OVER  YOUR  EDUCATION.  "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤregret  will  hit  him  years  down  the  line,  solas  knows,  BUT  IT  MEANS  NOTHING  TO  HIM  NOW,  as  he  removes  himself  from  behind  her.     he  can't  afford  whatever  heavy  feeling  has  jumped  into  his  throat,  averts  his  gaze  from  her  lithe  figure,  strong  and  athletic  from  years  on  the  move  no  doubt,  from  the  scent  of  her  hair,  poppy  blossom  and  an undertone  he  is  unfamiliar  with. why does he do this to himself ? why must he make his life a balancing act ? she would run if she knew, fears the dread wolf they way her dalish have taught her, and though he knows their reason for fear is misplaced, they are rightfully afraid. one day her eyes won't look at him with such wonder.

"that means a lot, truly." she stumbles a bit on her words, but they are said sincerely. it is true that she's felt insecure among the inquisition for some time now. that she feels she can't compete among the true believers and that her skills can't make up for her lack of faith in andraste that so many of her peers seem to have. even if she believes in the work that lavellan is doing. it's something she thought was hidden well, but it appears she was wrong.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhe  watches  her  destroy  the  target,  a  little  sloppy,  but  to  be  expected  from  one  who  has  not  received  proper  handling.     ashalle  carries  in  her  something  powerful,  something  that  if  honed  with  time  and  patience  could  easily  rival  the  greatest  mages  he  knew.     that  thought  terrifies  him,  BUT  SOLAS  HAS  NEVER  BEEN  ONE  TO  SHY  FROM  POWER.     her  eyes  on  him  now,  though,  praising  his  teaching,  has  his  stomach  lunging  up  into  his  chest.      he  cares  not  for  it,  and  squashes  it  before  his  face  can  redden.     the  tips  of  his  ears,  however  . . .          "  and  you  are  an  excellent  student,  provided  you  have  the  correct  guidance.  "

something  twists  inside,  the  wonder  in  her gaze  has  him  thinking.     THEY  DID  NOT  NAME  HIM  FOR  THE  REBELLION  FOR  NOTHING.

"  fade  magic  is  different  than  others,  "          he  tells  her.          "  it  does  not  require  a  foci,  just  as  the  veil  has  no  focal  point.     it  will  seem  chaotic  at  first,  to  wield  as  such,  you  may  feel  out  of  control.  "          mischievous,  the  glint  in  his  eye,  A  REMNANT  OF  A  MAN  MORE  TROUBLE  THAN  HE  WAS  WORTH  IT.     the  hand  previously  coaxing  her  posture  trails  up  her  arm  and  over  her  shoulder,  resting  at  the  pulse  that  lingers  beneath  her  skin.     solas  reaches  his  other  hand  outwards  in  front  of  them,  listening  for  the  hum  of  the  fade  he  trapped  away.      when  it  snakes  between  his  fingers,  he  pulls  it  back  in,  letting  its  hopeful  tendrils  cross  up  his  arms,  through  his  chest,  and  out  through  the  hand  that  attaches  to  her,  giving  ashalle  a  brief  glimpse  of  what  it's  like  to  heal  with  the  fade.     he  restores  her  mana,  and  the  connection  between  them  vibrates.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" your trainer seems hardly adept at teaching you these things, lethalan. you struggle with even reaching past the veil. " arms crossed, leaning against the stairway. he's taken to watching her train, hone her craft in the courtyard entrance alongside the rest of skyhold's forces. it's pitiful, really ; whoever this woman is that guides her, she very obviously does not teach as often as she proclaims. SOLAS THINKS HE'LL HAVE JOSEPHINE DISMISS HER, perhaps he'd be better suited to training the inquisitor in matters of fade magic.

his frustration at her inability peaks, and he comes to stand behind her, leaving space between his chest and her back as arms snake to the front, showing proper wrist placement without the use of a focus staff. she does not need one, NOT WITH THE AMOUNT OF RAW POWER THAT COURSES THROUGH HER. solas doesn't know if it is her that wields it, or if she is aided by the mark on her hand. " like so. " softly, he's taught before, within these stones, but she does not need to know that. " curl your fingers. the veil is thin here, can you not feel it ? a humming ? you only need to reach for it, take it, encircle it around you. use it to restore yourself. "

lae: you are lucky i love you if i hear one more thing about dinosaurs i SWEAR-

actual gifset of solas transponsters.tumblr.co…

"Do you like when it's empty?" the spirit asked, looking up from the cat that was content to spend its day curled up in the boy's lap, purring.

"When something happens, or someone says something, people react. They're happy or angry. It fills them up and colors their thoughts."

His hands had been idly caressing the cat's curving spine, gently threading nimble fingers through the rustic patterns that plaited the feline's sun-colored fur. But as he spoke to the Inquisitor, the motions stopped and the creature opened its large amber eyes. It flattened its ears against its head, annoyed by the interruption of its impromptu massage.