#solrookassan

His lips glistened in the low torchlight, the shimmer from the first drink still clinging to them, and Rook thought that this was probably a mistake. It was most definitely a mistake. One of many they have committed to since meeting Varric. Rook should have listened to the common sense they have so famously lacked. But they were in for a bit, so they would see it through. It could prove to be more than they could handle, but they did not mind as they watched Felassan’s heavy-lidded eyes, dark as tar from his blown pupils.

“Deliriously lustful,” Rook repeated under their breath, “That’s a new one.”

“Better than terminally repressed,” Felassan murmured, his fingers brushing against the edge of their mask, softly pulling on it. “May I?”

Rook stilled. They did not need Felassan coming back to report on their appearance the minute they left the space. “You’re not getting it off.”

“I’ve told you many times, lethallan, that is not necessary. ‘Solas’ is just fine,” he retorted with a hint of amusement laced in his words. His head cocked, and he gestured blindly behind him for Rook to draw closer.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” she said while shaking her head and complying. She sidled up next to him, her arms crossed over her chest to keep her shawl wrapped taught around her. “Being so familiar with the leaders of the Rebellion against the Evanuris is already getting me no friends. What would they all think if I started calling the Fen’Harel by his real name?”

“You seem quite keen in dropping all honorifics with Felassan as well, yes, but I can promise you it’s not the familiarity that gets you no friends.”

A sarcastically offended scoff huffed past her lips, and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, zip it. It’s a multitude of things.”

Solas grinned as he finally turned his head to look at her, his hair ghosting over his shoulders.

“Ah, yes. It’s a combination of your quick rise in the ranks, your stubborn and righteous attitude, and your closeness with our dear General, is it not?”

“Did I not just say to zip it, Solas?” Rook groaned, shooting him a viridian-colored glare that held no malice, her cheeks tinged red.

“I’ve told you both no fraternization, but alas,” Solas pointed out, “we both seem keen on ignoring each other’s requests.”

Tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth, Rook’s lips pursed.

“Fair enough,” she said after a few moments.

“I trust you slept well?” he asked, his grin softening to a mirthful line, lips pressed together.

She hummed softly, eyes drifting to gaze across the landscape, nodding.

“Much better than the last couple of weeks,” she replied, her fingers instinctively moving to cradle her elbows as her arms folded over her stomach. “I never thought I would get used to a body, but it’s not so bad. Most of the time.”

A flicker of sadness crossed over Solas’ face, going entirely unnoticed by Rook as her eyes stayed glued to the sprawling trees and hills beneath them.

“Yes, it does take a bit to get adjusted,” he agreed lowly. “Are you having many doubts about the decision?”

Rook shook her head.

“No,” she replied, a small smile gracing her features. “It’s quite nice to walk amongst the earth and our people; to feel the dew on the grass beneath my feet, to feel the wind on my face, to feel the softness of clothes against my skin. I don’t know why you were so adamant that I not agree to Felassan’s request.”

“I was just providing caution, Defiance,” Solas said as a wrinkle creased his brow. “I would know the struggles of manifesting a physical form; a fair amount of us would.”

“And I appreciate your concern, Wisdom,” Rook casually bumped her shoulder against Solas’ arm, a soft sigh escaping her, “but I was needed and called upon. It’s nice being with everyone again.”

A disgruntled noise left Solas as he shot her a mildly disappointed look.

“I should have guessed your nature would have made the transition much more bearable than it was for some of the others.”

“For some of the others, or for you?”

He opened his mouth to make a snarky comment before he caught himself, pressing his lips together once more to stop it.

“For others, and for me.”

Rook nodded a single time before her eyes trained back on the greenery and the slowly rising sun.

“I’m sorry it was— is so hard for you, Solas, truly. But I believe the cause we fight for is greater than any desire I had to stay a spirit,” she murmured.

“You could have remained as you were, and still joined the fight,” he protested without any charged energy.

“So you could send me off to fight alongside Chaos and Destruction?” she retorted, equally as soft.

“I do not need a lecture from you. Felassan already provided that. Many times.”

“I don’t lecture. That’s your job, of course. But I do have opinions to share. Many of them.”

Solas rolled his eyes.

“I am not interested in hearing them.”

“Of course not!” Rook chirped. “That does not mean I’ll refrain from providing them, however.”

Felassan laughed and followed as Rook turned, weaving through the edge of the terrace, past the grotesque nesting roast and a woman in peacock feathers trying to argue with a statue. Rook was almost sure it should have been some nutjob who loved to spend their painted as a statue. It had to be sexual, too. Rook was not sure if sober them would agree with this thought. They were not sure where they were leading Felassan, as they dragged their bodies back inside.

It did not seem like the same corridor they got onto the terrace from. It was not as well-lit, narrower. A servant corridor. Rook’s plan (which they did not have) was going all sorts of ways wrong. Felassan’s hand slipped from Rook’s back down to their waist as they leaned against the nearest spiral archway. Varric said that seduction was often a way to the truth. In the months they travelled together, tracking after Solas’ scent, the dwarf proved himself to be always right. Rook decided to ignore that the seduction part was less a careful scheme and more of a consequence of their poor decision-making.

“So,” Rook said, folding their arms and leaning back against the wall, letting Felassan’s fingers slip once more, now landing at the waistband of their pants. “You and your friend. Long time?”

Felassan tilted his head, a smirk extending to his eyes. “Which friend?”

“Oh, please.” Rook snorted, rolling their eyes. In the low light of this dingy place, the elf looked radiant and the heat in Rook’s loins became harder to ignore.

“Ah,” he said softly, leaning back with a laugh. “That friend.”

The pause was weighty, the elf’s eyes tracing over Rook’s masked face. “More poetically inclined souls might say we have been by each other’s side before history was written.”

Rook’s breath caught in their lungs. The thought cut even through the haze of whatever Orlesian poison they had just drank. Could Felassan be another Elven god? But Solas have told the Inquisitor the rest were locked away. Did he break one out? “So… old flames, then?” Rook teased, keeping their voice low to hide the tremble in it.

“Our bond could be described as something… deeper than that.” He said, his tongue tracing the inside of his cheek, him never letting go of what little distance between them was left.

Spit in Rook’s throat was drying up as they tried to find words to speak, feeling Felassan’s finger hooking around their belt loop and pulling their hips flush to his. “You’ve fallen awfully quiet, songbird.”

“Oh, just trying to decide if you’re playing me, or if you’re just naturally this smug.” Keeping their voice steady with his breath lingering on their lips proved to be quite difficult.

His fingers toyed with Rook’s waistband, brushing against naked flesh, making their spine tingle. Rook knew how wrong this was even through the fog clouding their mind, and could sense the danger of this moment. Though a thoroughly exciting danger it was.

“You’re back in your thought again,” Felassan whispered, cocking his head to the side. “A terrible habit, in your condition, truly.”

Their fingers brushed the front of his open doublet, parting fabric, dragging knuckles over warm skin. “And what condition is that, exactly?”