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[goethbeforethefall]

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Solas The Dread Wolf Fen'Harel

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This is the In-Character Inbox for Solas.
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[arlathvhen]

Solas?

[ She's almost finished getting ready for bed, and is currently trying to gentle wrestle a wooden comb through her curls. Once they get more bones, she's going to spend all of it on her various hair tonics and makeup. ]

What did you think, when you first saw me? Or met me, if you don't want to count when I was unconscious and you were trying to keep me alive.

[goethbeforethefall]

[He considers the virtues of honesty while watching her in the candlelight. He's standing beside their window, feeling the cold roil off of the inside of the frame, and thinking about... about how different their prospects suddenly are. About the fact that... that right about now he would have been rallying the forces, leveraging alliances, pouring over maps and plans, and the last thing in the world on his mind would be rest.

Elgar'nan's death was the most vital task, a monumental feat that he has been working towards for millenia, and he had been coiled like a spring to see it done— and then he was here, and so helpless, and she was... She was sitting on the side of a bed they were meant to share. The scene is so warm and small, so mundane, that looking at her makes him feel he is losing his mind with the contrast.]

I would prefer to tell you that my first thought was that you were beautiful. [He says is low, almost ashamed, but she does deserve the truth, or as near a shade to it as he can manage.] But you seemed so... young, lying there, of The People, marked as a slave, caged by the shemlen, and fallen prey to cruel circumstance. I was... frustrated, by how badly things had gone with my focus. When we met, I was only glad to see you alive. I knew that if you had died, all would truly have been lost, and the last, best link to the power of old left in Corypheus' hands: a grim fate.

[Does she even want to share the bed? He has no desire to force intimacy on her, even the relatively uncomplicated act of lying in the same place to sleep. He wanted— a kiss was no excuse for it, and certainly not permission. Oh, but he wanted to hold her.]

At that moment, you were the most beautiful sight in the world.

[arlathvhen]

[ Her laugh is laced with surprised, and she has to put the brush down to turn and look at him. Well--It was fair, she supposed. She had been in a position that only someone facing that worst of fates would envy. And it only improved under grueling, terrifying, painful work. Maybe it was silly to hope that he'd seen anything besides what a singularly miserable creature she'd been. ]

Then then I opened my mouth and was Dalish at you, yes? And woosh--[ She makes a hand gesture of something being swept away. ] It disappeared.

[ She's teasing. She pats the space besides her on the bed. ]

Can you help me with the back of my hair? It's hard with-- [ With one arm. The prosthetic has already been set aside for the night. ]

[text] ingenuity

[badnewsandshitlist]

Hello Solas?

You have shown interest in my previous inventions; I thought you might be curious to see another I have successfully restored to functionality. I call it Diplomacy, and it's a gauntlet that deals with lighting damage.

It works like true Diplomacy, all with a handshake.

[text] dreadwolf

[goethbeforethefall]

Percival, was it not? This is Solas.

I am indeed interested in the function of such a device. Are you offering a demonstration?

@slowarrow

[loosed]

[ Less than a day after he wanders off: ]

In case.

[ He has acquired a bird.

The brevity means only in case of emergencies. Sending it at all means stay out of my dreams brosef, perhaps, though he never asked if that was even possible right now.

He expects Solas to understand both implications.



But like five days later, ]

Do you have your magic back? How long have you been here?

[goethbeforethefall]

Work diligently, and perhaps our new masters shall be merciful.

[He’s still like this, even after thousands of years, sorry to say.]

One month

[loosed]

Have I ever told you how much I appreciate your clarity and directness? One of your top ten qualities, I would say.

[ One month is clear and direct, though, and not as long as Felassan had assumed, and he has no idea he can attribute the proximity of this arrival to the all-powerful beings controlling everyone with their brains and computer keyboards, so, ]

Maybe they brought me here to screw with you.

[a note]

[arlathvhen]

[ The note is folded in half and stuck to his workshop door, to be found when Beleth has stepped out of the house already. Someone, apparently, remembered her dumb joke about bad poetry. ]

As the halla yearns for the forest green
So do I long to be by your side
You alone are my heart's desire
Just as I am your bride

As the rabbit yearns for it's den below
So do I long for your lips on mine
You alone are my heart's desire
The finest flavor of wine

As the falcon yearns for the sky above
So do I long for your eyes on me
You alone are my heart's desire
And we are well and truly free

[ Underneath the carefully written words is a scrawled note: 'Give me another century to work on it and I'm sure it'll knock your socks off.' ]

I AM SO SORRY part deux Text @gadriel

[thecodexabides]

[So there is no way Gadriel could do this via voice, or EMPEROR FORBID, in person. So, text it is.]

I need your help.
Someone here is
possessed

by an owl.

[goethbeforethefall]

[There is a long pause, in which a muffled conversation can be heard. Eventually, silence, and then the sound of a longsuffering sigh. This isn't what he wants, but to please Lavellan, there is little he would not do.]

....




Who.

[thecodexabides]

[Trust him, there's a reason Gadriel chose text, because the sounds of actual physical pain coming from him at having to do this would definitely ruin the joke.

[If the joke were funny to begin with. Which it's not, but even if it were, Gadriel doesn't get it.]

I am sorry. This is not working.

[action]

[arlathvhen]

They were both reading quietly in the library, the silence pleasant and gentle. Beleth isn't sure what Solas is reading, but she'd been indulging in some frivolous romance. A forbidden romance, which had appealed to her, until--

The book is shut, decisively, and put down, accompanied by a furrowed brow. "I don't think these two people actually like each other."

That declaration made, she stands, and promptly deposits herself into Solas' lap. Whatever he's reading can wait. "I like you, as well as love you. You're my friend, as well as my partner." It did not seem such an odd concept to her, and the lack of it in the book seemed ... bizarre.

[goethbeforethefall]

I don't think these two people actually like each other

Solas is pulled from his own book with a sensation not unlike being wakened unexpectedly from a pleasant dream. It was a golden afternoon, a deeply soothing peace he had come to rely on, and a needed balm after the grim, frantic work of the past few weeks. Their home was largely intact, and both of them alive and now uninjured...

Every day he found himself heaped with baffling good fortune, all undeserving.

And then Beleth is in his lap; he has just enough time to rescue his book from being crushed. It is in him to be annoyed, but despite the startled edge of emotion, she is here, alive and warm and in his arms... and her words are a pool of cool and shadowed depths on an over-hot day.

"I thank you for the sentiment," He says, accepting it with bare honesty. Solas' arms come up automatically, to balance and hold her. The slim strength of Beleth's waist is always a temptation to the hands, "I like you as well. Even if things were not as they are between us, I would love you, as dear a friend to my heart as any has ever been. Greater, perhaps, for being more true."

Not everyone can bear up loyally under the pressures she has been subjected to, after all. And yet, she always has. Not for the first time, Solas wonders idly what she might have been, were she born a spirit and not an elf of waking flesh. Loyalty? Steadfastness? Strength? Grace-under-pressure? Something rare, he is sure, and powerful.

"Yet I am glad, that that is not so. You are beautiful, graceful, and strong; I would grieve to never have caught your interest, in some other life."

[arlathvhen]

She grins at that -- how can she not? Solas' words are, as ever, sweet and loving, warming her and brightening the day, like the gentle brush of the sun. Her arms go around his neck, leaning in to give his cheek a chaste kiss.

"I feel the same -- it would be so embarrassing to have an unrequited crush on you. I was bad enough when I wasn't sure of your feelings, mooning after you like a puppy." Then she laughs, shaking her head, and giving him another kiss, then another. "But either way, you would have captured my interest. How can you not, when you are so interesting?"

That had been what caught her eye, at first. Never had she met a man like him, and she knew that she never would again. No other such man existed.

"I'm glad you'd be my friend, though. I'm gladder still I can do this." And then a much less chaste kiss on the lips. A thing she had spent much time wanting, and so little time able. But now she has time to catch up

action.

[loosed]

When Solas was injured, Felassan stayed a few days. With Beleth injured, he's stayed again, though not any longer. By the second morning he's wearing or carrying everything he owns again — save his cloak, still damp from being scrubbed of blood and dust and still hanging up to dry — in a clear sign he's intending to go before long. But he's not scurrying, fleeing, or generally rushing. He's moving at a leisurely pace, braiding his hair (also damp from recent washing) back at the temples and whistling a tune that slips in and out of audibility, when he finds Solas painting the outer wall, where there'd only been the ghostly outline of a halla on the day Felassan first arrived in Caldera.

"Will you do the whole wall?" he asks.

[goethbeforethefall]

"In time," He agrees, glancing to see Felassan only after he's spoken.

It was strange, and interesting, how one adapted to the quick world of the mortals. Friendships had formed over the course of that one brief journey, no more than a handful of years, which seemed as if they might last an age... And yet, he had known they could not. His memory of the Inquisition would outlive every one of them, a thousandfold, and yet...

...Felassan is at a different pace. Not as measured as it once had been, in the old days before the worst had come to pass, but slower. Deeper, somehow, depths and currents flowed between them, some light and easy, and other with sharp and hungry jaws.

How inviting that felt! How strange in its familiarity, and how already he mourned Felassan's leaving. But then, his friend had always been prone to wander, and to make his own way. In time.

In time, indeed.

"Will you return, soon?" He says it carefully, voice level, as if unconcerned. But it is a lie.

[arlathvhen]

She doesn't wait long to approach Solas, after she speaks with Felassan. Some time alone to gather her thoughts, formulate her plan in full, and what she'll say. And, of course, what she'll do if it all blows up in her face. If Solas rejects both her proposition and her -- well. All those vows, all the promises, the faith and trust. And she'd have no one to blame.

Felassan will, obviously, stay with the man that he's stood besides for thousands of years. He had put betrayal at the same level of his death -- he'd never do it for her. It's fine. She'll move to Finnick's Inn, and figure things out from there. She'll be okay.

And if she keeps telling herself that, maybe it'll be true.

But she certainly can't let the knowledge linger. Can't conceive of sleeping by Solas' side with these thoughts swirling around her head. He had extended trust and faith in her, and she would have to do the same.

She catches him when he's in the library, mind going to when he approached her, when she knew something was up, from the moment she saw his face. Aware that he will probably do the same when he sees her. She sits down on the chair next to him, and takes in the silence, for a moment. Considers attempting small talk, but knows that it will be useless, if Solas indulges it at all.

She doesn't look sad, or upset. Even if Felassan isn't here, she doesn't want to dishonor him by appearing so, nor make Solas feel that she is discontent with either man. She looks pensive, but firm in her decision.

"Vhenan. I beg your ear, for there is a serious matter I wish to discuss with you." She reaches out, for his hand. Selfishly wanting his comfort, even now. "I wanted to ask you, first, if you had ever... felt anything, romantically. For anyone else, besides me, and... her." There is only one person Beleth uses such a tone for. "If ever you felt moved by another, whom you thought could become something... more."

[goethbeforethefall]

Solas turns to her as she enters; he usually does, as incapable of ignoring her presence as a lodestone is to true north. And what he sees gives him pause.

It is rare for Lavellan to seem so worried; whether as inquisitor, or as merely Beleth, she carries herself with extraordinarily prepossession. But here, and now, she hesitates, the terse uncertainly a furrow in her brow, a tightness of lips, and nervous hands. Willingly does Solas reach out to her, and take those hands into his, to offer what solidarity he may.

“No,” he says shortly, growing more uncertain with every word, as to what this could be about, “When Mythal lived, she was my sole focus, emotionally, if not sexually. Our relationship was… complex, and fraught.”

To put it mildly, he supposed.

“I had other encounters, other lovers, over the centuries, of course... But since leaving the Evanuris, very few. And since the creation of the Veil, none— none, save yourself. Why? You cannot fear comparison, I hope.”

[text]

[arlathvhen]

[ The text sent to Solas is not words, but a carefully drawn image... careful, though not particularly skilled. Still, it's easy enough to see what it's supposed to be: Beleth, laying down, in a negligee that is detailed enough that it's easy to guess that it's something that she drew from reference. Beleth's face is gives a little wink. There is no actual words to accompany it. ]

[goethbeforethefall]

[]

action, backdated a bit.

[loosed]

Solas is not yet fully recovered, but he's recovered enough that, by Felassan's reckoning, he's due for a dose of fresh air and sunlight. So Felassan does whatever cajoling is necessary to draw him out into the woods beyond the house, onto a narrow deer trail that cuts through the trees. There's not much undergrowth; on his own Felassan would go wherever he liked. But he's seen Solas stumble and collapse enough to last him for a while, and the trail means the dirt beneath their feet should be trustworthy, packed well and not crossing any pits or mounds rotten enough to collapse beneath them.

Felassan still walks ahead of Solas, just in case.

"I have to bring Beleth a deer," he says, glancing back over his shoulder. "Maybe more than one, after you set the bar at giving her an entire fortress. Thanks for that."

[goethbeforethefall]

"I did it purely to inconvenience you, of course," Solas replies, with such dry calm that anyone who did not know him very well indeed might think he was being genuine— for a minute, at least, "That Tarasyl'an Te'las is the perfect gift to impress a beautiful woman is merely incidental."

It's a good joke, he thinks; of course he had given it to her for less pleasant reasons. She had needed it, the nascent Inquisition had needed it, and what was more it was nothing but an empty, moldering hulk after so long uninhabited. But yes, he doubted that bringing Beleth a beautiful, nigh-magical castle at the top of the world had not done him any harm, in her esteem.

"Perhaps you could bring her an Eluvian network, if venison is too far beyond your powers?" He teases. They can joke about this now— he hopes they can, at least, "Or I could help you."

He could, truly, despite how shockingly tiring it is simply to walk along behind Felassan along a perfectly-level deerpath through not-particularly-challenging forest. He had thought of himself as fit and fairly well-conditioned, not so long ago. What is worse, he suspects Felassan is humoring him, which is humiliating... and gratifying. Tender, that is what it is. Solas doesn't know how to deserve it, and the best he can do is simply to make no objection, no comment at all.

text, @brilliantretort

[lost_and_foundry]

Solas, I never got to ask, and I'm sure you've had far more important things on your mind.

But I assume you had no difficulty breaking through the crystal dome I raised around your dining table?

[Barcus is not, after all, a mage, and new to the gift of shaping stone and gems this way. He's a pretty good architect, though. The whole house could have collapsed onto that dome and it still would have held.]

text, @dreadwolf

[goethbeforethefall]

As fortune would have it, I am capable of keeping many things on my mind at once, and your construction's clever geometry did not elude me. Indeed, I was surprised by its robustness: it was beautifully made.

In the end, I found I did not wish it destroyed. Beleth required a return to the free use of the table, of course, so I simply removed it. It posses a number of fascinating qualities, not the least of which is its beauty, and so we have fallen into the habit of using it decoratively.