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[goethbeforethefall]

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Visuals Caldera Vhenan

Solas The Dread Wolf Fen'Harel

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[goethbeforethefall]

It hadn't even occured to him to want to stay.

Solas' answering smile is sad, and proud, and every bastard mix of strange and half-malformed love that has stood between them, over all the years. Abruptly tender, he reaches and clasps Felassan not by the arm or shoulder, but in the gap between jaw and neck, a gentle, approving touch. Yes. Courageous man, bold of spirit; it really would be so, that that was his desire.

"I can make you no promises," He says, quietly, feeling the strange equilibrium of purpose coming under his feet once again. A project, vast and fascinating; and dangerous, as all things must be... but worthy, nontheless, "But I will do all in my power. This place, these gods... they are not our struggle, except as much as they must be. But the power— I will make you no promises."

And for once, only the fate of they three might hang on it, not the world entire, not all of Elvhenan. It felt... good. Better, at least, than it had.

[loosed]

Solas says he can't and won't make promises, but even so, he's making the one that matters. Felassan looks up at him, small smile and slanted. For a moment he is thousands of years in the past, in the Lighthouse, Solas's face made strange by bareness, the world made strange by the decision to fight, bright and cracked open and full of possibility — and then, overcorrecting, he is mere weeks ago, on his knees, trying to tease through the certainty that he'll die.

His smile didn't slip then, and it doesn't slip now, but with his hand on his jaw maybe Solas can feel it: the way he sways, just barely, as if at sea, before he finds his center of gravity and pulls Solas's hand away in his own.

"Your power and your mind are remarkable, my friend," he says, "but it has always been enough that you try."

Pecking a kiss against Solas's knuckles is nothing Felassan has not done before, save that this time it's done without winking irony. No cheeky imitation of a deferential bow in sight. Then Felassan lets him go to finally complete the simple work of twisting and tying his hair up off of his neck.

"I haven't been putting up wards when I sleep," he adds, which could easily go without saying; it's only recently he regained the ability to block intrusions into his dreams in the first place. But Solas seemed to understand to stay away. He doesn't have to anymore.

[goethbeforethefall]

Felassan's kiss casts the shadow of older jokes, but without the smirking irony of it, the gesture is strangely... sincere. Just for that one moment, his eyes are as the sun, lancing golden through a forest canopy, warm and lively, weighted any light. Were Solas less prepossessed, he might again begin weeping. But the time is passed, clouds swiftly clearing; his face feels dry and tight, and he knows Beleth will guess at his state, when he goes in.

He cannot begin to care.

"Then perhaps you can shall dream," He warns, on a laugh that is sharp-edged and ragged, splintered as a obsidian blade, "Thank you. You cared for me when all the world forgot. I was hasty, and I am grateful for another chance."

[loosed]

He shouldn't have done that, Felassan thinks, catching the tail end of that light. And he wouldn't have done that. He has had thousands of years of practice at not doing that. But something about everything — death, resurrection, a new world, a fresh hope, the real spray of freckles across Solas's real nose — has perhaps scraped a raw gash in his thick skin, and made him stupid(er than normal).

He grin like it's nothing, which it is, or at least will be after he's had a few days to throw rocks at trees in the woods.

"Me, too," he says, with a touch of insistence. This is his apology, damn it. His promise to do better. Solas doesn't get to outdo him. He unfurls his cloak over his shoulders. "I'll come back soon. And I'll try to bring some terrible ideas so you can think of something better."

[goethbeforethefall]

"Hm," He teases, wrapping his arms around himself, tucking the his fingers underneath as if to keep them warm, or guard them from harm, "You shall find it a greater challenge, than it once was. But I look forward to it."

So saying, he smiles; a real smile, bright and true, and ducking his head he turns to go back inside.