goethbeforethefall | Inbox // IC Communication

[The smell of tea is on the air, and the kitchen is a warm breath when Solas comes to stand there. He says nothing at first, and makes no movement, only watches her with searching eyes, quiet and reserved, as if he is expecting to be chastised— or as if he is assessing her for anger or injury, before he speaks.

But he does not speak, not at first, only steps over the threshold and reaches for her with the rounded drape of his pale blue sleeves outstretched. Gently does Solas touch her, first her hands, which he finds too cold and steps nearer, so that he can cradle her cheeks between his own warm palms, and kiss her gently upon her forehead. For a moment, that is all, breathing in the scent of her hair, and enfolding her thus, as he has always done; tenderly, as if she were precious and breakable and worthy of care, but never such as that the merest lean of her neck, or shifting of weight could not take her away from him.

Always, he seeks to have her free; free to stay, free to go. And then he opens his mouth to exhale a quiet sigh and, finally, to speak.]

Vhenan. [Always in that low, joyful tone, even on his darkest day. This is not that day, of course, and he is only glad to see her again.] Welcome back.

[He does not step away, does not lead her further in, only lingers still in the warmth between them, quite as if he were unsure of his welcome, and hoping to prolong what little of it he knew was his for the taking. Still, presently even he must be cognizant of the apology stoppering up her throat— or perhaps he recognizes it from the mirrored impulse within his own, and offers mercy:]

You need excuse nothing you do not wish to, but— there is tea, and you are cold.

Edited (cursed double-negatives) 2025-12-16 19:07 (UTC)

[ At his soft touches, the gentle press of his lips, Beleth closes her eyes and melts into him. After being apart for so long before Caldera, a few days should mean nothing -- but she has been spoiled. And he is so warm. Barcus had offered a reprieve from the cold while she sorted over some of her feelings, but the path home was chilled.

And the way he holds her is so careful. Her arms go around him, clutching on to him for those few beats that they simply stand there, soaking in the presence of the other. She missed him. She misses Felassan too, even as much as he had stirred her anger. He should be here, too -- once she can figure out what to say to him. ]

Ar lath ma. I am glad to be back.

[ She pulls away just slightly, but her hand goes to his, even as she turns towards the kitchen. The tea will chase away the chill on the inside of her -- and Solas' warm hands and tender embrace will chase away the rest. Soon, when she has both applied to her, she can work on the thoughts still tangling in her mind. ]

...I still love him, you know.

[ Just to be clear on that. She doubts that Solas held doubt, but it is something that ought be said. ]

Vir var'lathan.

[But he is telling her things she already knows, he is sure.]

He worries. I do not. If you could be so easily driven from your chosen path, then there would be nothing to lose in the first place. Your commitment and loyalty are unquestionable... but Felassan has lived a long time, and experienced many betrayals, his own not the least. He will come back too, in a few days.

[He won't be able to resist doing so, hangdog and wary, like a hopeful wildcat, fearfully cringing away from that which it also most desires: love. Solas has long felt the same urge within himself, at other times; he is grateful that Beleth takes care not to intentionally inspire it. Too many old memories lie in that direction.]

In the meanwhile, you have time to think on what you wish to be said. And to ask me your questions, if you have any.

[For she must know, or have guessed, that Fen'Harel's agent did little enough without the knowledge of Fen'Harel himself.]

I don't know if there is much point in what I want him to say. I can't make people regret the deaths they've... been a part of. Even if they regret how I feel about it. It's not the same.

[ She trails into the kitchen, tugging Solas along with her, hand still gripping his. It's funny, not even a year ago, this place had been abandoned, and... so had she. Now it's home. And she's glad to be home. ]

But... it is what it is, I suppose. You're right -- I know my path. And this won't make me change it.

[ She reaches, then to pull him down, to cover his face with kisses. The tea will wait. She missed this. ]

[Solas is helpless but to laugh under her assault, but then he bends to the invitation it provides with a will, as once he did in simpler time. Arms clutching, waist and rump and the tip-back of her balance, he is abruptly lost in the taste and warmth and weight of her.]

My heart... [The endearment is in their shared breath.] I have missed you.

[And, as if to prove it, he kisses her again, tender and fierce and altogether lost in her, pulling back only to admire her then, the beauty of her face, the grace of her spirit. It is as pragmatic as a drawn blade, and as shining.]

You deserve time. At the very least, you deserve some measure of apology; Felassan knows what it is to lose kin, and learn of it only too late. If you will forgive, I cannot stop you. [He has tried before, forever unsuccessfully— as lovely and righteous as Beleth's vengeance cuts, she has never wielded that blade for her own satisfaction, only to serve what was right.] But he will not believe absolution that is without some cost. You have every right to your anger, to your grief. Let him see it.

[ She could live here forever, tucked up against Solas, his arms folded around her, his warmth and solidness encasing her. And she is helpless to do anything but return the deluge of affection and love that he pours into her. His kisses are returned with fervor, and when he pulls away, she clutches to him, content and already beginning to feel the chill chased away. ]

I missed you, as well.

[ And she listens to him speaking, thoughtful and contemplative. ]

Well, he is not the first to come to me with guilt in his heart, and request a penance to relieve it.

[ Though normally, it's in the role of Inquisitor, not significant other. ]

I do not know what absolution could be given, especially while we are within Caldera. In Thedas, I could ask him to help other clans, or do something in remembrance of the clan that perished. Planting their grave trees... but I don't know what can be done here, and now.

I am not used to letting others see me like that. [ Righteous anger, occasionally, but the Inquisitor must control her emotions, carefully wound and only revealed as is useful to the situation. ] But -- I'll try.

He loves you. [Solas says it quietly, but without fanfare, in that calm way that he pronounces simple truths. The sky is blue, the grass green, and Beleth Lavellan is loved.] When first I loved you, I wished for nothing so much as to know you better. All your rages, and fears. The ways you would choose. Your laughter as well as your sorrow.

[There is an errant curl of hair, and rather than correct it, Solas bends to lean his head against hers, so that it brushes his own brow as well, as he holds her close.]

You are not the Inquisitor, here. [Not in his arms, not in this house, not in all of Caldera, or further still, if she wills it. Solas will not permit Beleth to be chained against her will, by titles and power.] Not unless you choose to be.

I don't make that easy, do I? Ir abelas, it is not... something I am used to doing. I suppose all three of us are learning to... reveal things. [ Beleth's secrets may not have been quite as dire as her two lovers, but she has always been someone to keep things close to her chest. ] But at least we have plenty of time.

[ She closes her eyes then, brow and body pressed against Solas. She had never thought to rage against the time given to a mortal before, but with the idea of being able to do this for the next thousand years, and beyond -- the idea is almost dizzying. ]

I... am ready to just be myself, now. I was many things to many people for a long time. I'm ready to be Beleth. Which... I suppose means that people will do things that upset me, and I will have to tell them so.

To love you is the easiest thing I have ever done. My heart opened to you against all sense and logic, and I denied for fear of that ease; you could so easily have destroyed me.

[It had not been easy, in the end, but far easier than anyone ever before, in truth. By words alone had he been tamed; no whip nor chain nor fierce magic and thread of violence could cause him to willingly bend to the work. But she had, she and her agents, her plans, and her preparations.

As he had always known she would.]

If you wish to maintain your reticent facade, I will guard it with you: var lath vir suledin. But you deserve freedom from such things, if you can bear it.

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