[Once, in another life, another dream, Solas had been kissed by her. And, enchanted, he had been unable not to draw her in, to touch her, even knowing he was hiding in those shadows, plotting her death and ruination. Even when his folly had branded her with magic that was killing her, when he had only been using her to try and regain the very tool he wished to destroy her world with— and yes, while sitting under the pretenses of noble and selfless motivations. Even so, he had done it, had been unable to resist what in him called to her, and from her in kind.
If she is a villain, to draw again into willful deception, to loosen the bonds of duty on his heart and distract him with what can only hurt her... Then he is the worse monster, for letting her. He knows better. The only thing that has changed, is that now she knows better too.
So too always, for fools in love.]
[Solas sleeps. His dreams are not unpleasant, really, but they are chaotic and intermixed, a hideous collation of a thousand poorly-remembered details, and he is cast, bewildered down amongst them. Nothing of the dream makes sense, conversations bleeding into action without logic, with nothing of—
— and then, abruptly, it steadies. He finds his feet on the ground, and the whirlpool draws back from his legs so that the dreams are only an invitation, not a overwhelming maelstrom. The Fade... the Fade finds him again.]
[He wakes with a terrible startle, half-jerking himself out of the blankets, and only slowly able to sink back down. His heart is beating as if he had been in terrible danger, and only just escaped its jaws, and yet... He can feel it again. He can feel the wholeness, the texture of the world gone back to what it was. Not properly, not fully; it is like coming up from Uthenera all over again, and he is so weak. But the difference is enough to bring him to weeping with pathetic gratitude; even knowing what this is, that it's merely a carrot to sweeten the threats of the stick, he cannot stop himself from feeling it.]
Vhenan? [His voice, like his hands, are shaking. Solas seeks to master himself, and tries again.] Lavellan? Beleth.
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If she is a villain, to draw again into willful deception, to loosen the bonds of duty on his heart and distract him with what can only hurt her... Then he is the worse monster, for letting her. He knows better. The only thing that has changed, is that now she knows better too.
So too always, for fools in love.]
[Solas sleeps. His dreams are not unpleasant, really, but they are chaotic and intermixed, a hideous collation of a thousand poorly-remembered details, and he is cast, bewildered down amongst them. Nothing of the dream makes sense, conversations bleeding into action without logic, with nothing of—
— and then, abruptly, it steadies. He finds his feet on the ground, and the whirlpool draws back from his legs so that the dreams are only an invitation, not a overwhelming maelstrom. The Fade... the Fade finds him again.]
[He wakes with a terrible startle, half-jerking himself out of the blankets, and only slowly able to sink back down. His heart is beating as if he had been in terrible danger, and only just escaped its jaws, and yet... He can feel it again. He can feel the wholeness, the texture of the world gone back to what it was. Not properly, not fully; it is like coming up from Uthenera all over again, and he is so weak. But the difference is enough to bring him to weeping with pathetic gratitude; even knowing what this is, that it's merely a carrot to sweeten the threats of the stick, he cannot stop himself from feeling it.]
Vhenan? [His voice, like his hands, are shaking. Solas seeks to master himself, and tries again.] Lavellan? Beleth.