[He opens his mouth to protest— and then, thinks better of it. She is right, after all, as she so-often is.]
If that is true for one of us, then... [Gently, too-gently, he stretches out a hand an lays it across her cheek. When he had met her, she had worn the green whorls of Mythal there, mirror to his own dedication, and it had made him shudder to see it. Now, she is free, and yet the chains remain on her.] ...Will you allow me to guard your dream, vhenan? I did not know... I have been— selfish.
[It is not, strictly speaking, an apology. But it is closer to a real apology than he has come in years. Perhaps longer. If Solas realizes the contrast it makes, he shows no sign of it. Instead, he shifts higher in the bed, following her direction, and drapes the blanket more fully around her narrow shoulders. It is a poor shield, against the woes of the world, but it is warm and close, and she is beautiful like this, with her hair spilled out against the pillow.
Not for the first time, he wishes— but no. It is not the time.]
no subject
If that is true for one of us, then... [Gently, too-gently, he stretches out a hand an lays it across her cheek. When he had met her, she had worn the green whorls of Mythal there, mirror to his own dedication, and it had made him shudder to see it. Now, she is free, and yet the chains remain on her.] ...Will you allow me to guard your dream, vhenan? I did not know... I have been— selfish.
[It is not, strictly speaking, an apology. But it is closer to a real apology than he has come in years. Perhaps longer. If Solas realizes the contrast it makes, he shows no sign of it. Instead, he shifts higher in the bed, following her direction, and drapes the blanket more fully around her narrow shoulders. It is a poor shield, against the woes of the world, but it is warm and close, and she is beautiful like this, with her hair spilled out against the pillow.
Not for the first time, he wishes— but no. It is not the time.]
May I ask...