#maythedreadwolfnever

"... Solas?”

Easily spoken verse, in whispered blood in darkened corners, set alone in his soul.

None so much in verbal aptitudes: he is nervous.

“--- I ask you this because I know-- I know you could give me an answer, without flight of fancy or personal leniency, of what you believe is truth, or untruth.” He twiddles with his fingers, clutching them like a newborn babe. He swallows visibly.

watch as my muse spouts poetry!

maythedreadwolfnever

“Solas, you’ve given me so much. So much, ‘tis baffling how much you’ve shared, of grandiose knowledge I couldn’t begin to fathom, as much as I’d enjoy!

☹ - something they regret

While living in the mountains, Pierre killed, ambushed, and trapped a lot of Templars who were searching for mages. While he could have given them a quick death, Pierre sometimes left them to starve or bleed out in a hidden hole trap. He regrets letting them suffering like that.

♞ - a time they’ve felt powerful

Skyhold. What an appropriate name. They sat so far above everything, so close that the clouds seemed to be just out of reach. When she stood on her balcony, her finger tips could just skim them, imagined edges just a hairsbreadth from connecting. It was a beautiful place, if cold and lonely. The loneliness may have been entirely self imposed- people had never seemed closer, more hopeful. Skyhold was everything Haven could not be. It was not just a castle- it was a symbol. 

And where did that leave her? Maiwe felt more symbol than person herself, her awareness of her own flaws and secrets growing by the day. Her greatest secret, her illness, sat heavily on her chest. Was it the weight of hiding it that made it hard to breathe, or was it simply her body protesting, finally failing as it should have long ago? With no one to talk to, she could not tell, could not sort anything out. Her head was a mess, and the new title they had given her did not help. Inquisitor. 

It was no longer ‘what would Maiwe do?’ The moment they had put that heavy ceremonial sword in her hand, it became ‘What would the Inquisitor do? How can the Inquisitor change things for the people of Thedas?’ The Inquisitor could not even change things for myself, lived an increasingly poorly concealed life of dishonesty and illness. If she stayed in this room one minute longer, she would pace herself into madness. 

There was one she could talk to, someone who actually seemed to welcome her questions. Solas. Hopefully he was settling in well, in that small, circular room he had claimed as his own. Solas was responsible for this in many ways. 

Maiwe knocked once to be polite, but showed herself in regardless. Hopefully she was not interrupting anything of vital importance. “Solas.” She dipped her head in greeting. “Hahren.” He was not so much older than her, but he seemed so much wiser. 

Their job was to keep an eye out for any odd behavior, but Asteria found herself distracted for but a moment, watching the Orlesian women circling about the Winter Palace, each more beautiful than the last. Looking down from up above the ballroom their dresses resembled free-floating water lilies, swirling gracefully in a pond with only their dance partners as a source of direction.

She could vaguely remember similar figures dancing and laughing in her great grand uncle Lord Aristide’s ballroom, back when the Amells were still at the peak of their glory and the estate was still open to her and her mother. She’d peek from up above, much like she was now, so very careful not to get caught since she knew it was well passed her bedtime. But the music, the desire to be a part of the festivities, kept her up until her nannies— or worse, her mother— finally realized she wasn’t in bed and sought her out. 

She remembered it all as if it were a distant dream, something that couldn’t have possibly happened except in the confines of her wildly imaginative mind. It was hard to step back and realize that she actually had a life of luxery before being taken to the Circle, but these were, in fact, real memories from when she was but a young child. She remembered staring in awe at the dresses, the way they glimmered under the candle lit chandeliers, and her tiny little body would suddenly fill up with excitement at the unquestionable certainty that one day she’d be one of those beautiful women and have a handsome noblemen lead her into a dance. 

Nearly twenty five years later, Asteria still found herself to be the spectator. It was funny how such an innocent certainty could be completely demolished, how things could change so suddenly and unexpectedly… 

“Ah-hem,” Solas cleared his throat, harshly tearing Asteria’s attention away from the dancing Orlesians. “Forgive me, but you were staring so intently at them, I was afraid you might’ve leaned in too far and found yourself falling over that ledge. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the spectacle, of course, but I doubt Josephine would’ve found it as amusing.” Solas was a hard shell to crack, especially given his passionate sentiments for his people and the injustices they endured, but while their relationship may have started out as just basic respect, Asteria was beginning to find that she earned enough of that respect that they could be considered good friend and so harmless teasing became commonplace between them. 

“Oh, please. You and I both know you’d be the first to come to my aid. You should find more subtle ways to conceal your obvious concern for me. It’s not a crime to say you care, you know.” She smirked, and caught that familiar hint of a smile that he always brushed off with a change of subject.

“Have you noticed anything unusual?” he asked, referring back to her intense observation of the those below.

“No, I was merely thinking back on a few things and got a little distracted,” she admitted, leaning away from the ledge. 

“Thinking back on what exactly?” It was clear that his curiousity was piqued, but she hardly talked about her lost childhood with anyone— if at all— and didn’t think he’d have much of an interest in hearing about it anyway. She was thinking back on a little girl’s silly wish, and what use was there to dwell in it any longer when that little girl was nothing but a stranger to her now. 

“I was thinking about the comfort of my bed and how much I’m missing it right now having to listen to this dreadfully boring music. Come on. We’ve got ourselves an assassin to catch, and the sooner we do that the sooner I get to sleep, and the sooner you get to listen to the sweet sound of me snoring in the room next door.” She grinned then, deciding to circle around the second floor as she was supposed to, but not before planting a quick kiss on his cheek to get him even more aggitated than he already was, and then spiriting away.