goethbeforethefall | Inbox // IC Communication

A gift

[He wants to weep, for the suffering she has endured. Her life is already so brief, and she spends fully half of it in the Fade, in chaos and uncontrolled madness where anything might happen and it is a blessing to have lost that half in a void of non-memory. They have so little, these mortals, and they are so wounded that they think that to have even less is normal.

Bad enough, for a stranger, but to imagine Beleth crippled thus, and to know that it has been so for her, all her life... The loss of a limb seems almost the kinder amputation.]

Ir abelas. I will endure, until— [There is a sound, soft but sharp, like an intruder at the window. On the sideboard table, built into the wall, they had left the two plump sacks of bones that had been awarded them in exchange for the gathered mushrooms. And now there was only one— the other had simply collapsed, its contents vanishing from inside with the sound of a collapsing pile.

Solas gasps, stricken, as it comes flooding back to him— first the burning under his skin, a lyrium prickle and the burn as old senses find their places. Then the world seems to expand, almost painfully stretched, a stiff muscle finally allowed to relax. Could it be that simple?]

I... Something has changed.

[Experimentally, he pulls back, one last gentle caress against her cheek in gratitude. His cupped hands between them, head bowed over them as if in prayer, and a tiny spark of veilfire lights itself from the aether, at his bequest. He laughs, a wet little giggle, full of tears, and extinguishes it, collapsing forward against her shoulder again. Whole.]

[ There's a barely discernible twitch when he echoes her words back to, with tone that indicated he did not agree with her assessment of it. But now is not the time to be annoyed. He doesn't mean anything by it. It might be hard for him to understand, that some nightmares can haunt you long past when you wake, and to be rid of the memory of them is to loosen the hold of the fear. Maybe he will see her wisdom, in time.

But then she hears a noise, like something--no, someone, and she jolts. Training kicks in, her arm clutching Solas protectively, other arm going to the knife hidden--

But there is no other arm, and there is no other knife. Damn it all. She starts to get up, to find some way to seek out the intruder and deal with them, when Solas gasps, pulling Lavellan's attention back to him. Had he been attacked? Had some magic that she couldn't defend against been done to her beloved?

And then Solas pulls away from her, and Lavellan, still lost as to what has transpired without her understanding, goes to follow him. But then--is he praying? No, he's-- ]

Vhenan...your magic.

[ Her arm, that had been moving to brace Solas, terrified that he'd been attacked, now grips his shoulder as he leans against her. Relief for both the return of his magic, as well as the knowledge that they weren't being attacked by some mysterious interloper, makes her sag into the bed. Maybe he'd avoided having to understand nightmares, after all. She presses a kiss to his head. ]

I'm so glad. Are you alright?

[He makes a small noise of assent, against her shoulder. As she slumps back, he simply follows along, shivering when she turns to kiss him, but making no protest.]

I... [Whatever he was about to say, Solas trails off. He what? What could he say to ease this moment? There's nothing. Even to apologize again is asinine.] Vhenan

[As wounded as she is, the worst of his sins all borne upon one person, how can she still love him, still wish to hold him thus? But she does, and she wants him here. The strength of her arm, anchoring him nearby, is irrefutable fact. It is impossible. Illogical. It is the only truth that can matter.]

I am. I am alright, now. The shock— I am alright, now.

[Perhaps by repeating it, it will sound more true.]

Ar lath ma, Beleth. My heart.

It is okay to not be alright, vhenan. You've been through a great deal. And you don't have to pretend in front of me. You know that, right? [ Her hand goes to his cheek, hand gentle, even as her eyes are firm. ] You are allowed to feel, and you are allowed to show that in front of me. I will not think less of you. You are the one I have bonded myself to, Sileal, and it would take more than your grief to break that bond.

[ She smiles, then, though it is...more sad than happy. ]

I hope that one day, you can tell me that without it sounding like an apology. [ It does wear on a person, to have their love be seen as a tragedy that should have been avoided. ] I'm glad that you have found your way to the Fade again, but I think that we should go back to sleep. We should be rested for tomorrow.

[ She releases him, and takes a moment to glance at the bags of the strange currency they had collected. A boon for a boon. She ought to be grateful. For whatever mercies the leaders here inflict upon their laborers. She does not feel grateful. Instead, she turns, and lays back down. In this moment, what she is grateful for is that she can't control her dreams -- she does not think they would be very kind. ]

[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.]

May I ask...

[ His touch melts her rising irritation at the injustice of their (and her specific) situation -- it doesn't solve it, of course, but his hands against her are a balm on frayed nerves, and she leans into his warmth. She's not...particularly sure why he seems so distressed, but she likes the offer he makes. ]

You want to walk in my dream, vhenan? I would like that. I want to spend as much time with you as possible, even in the Fade. [ That's what he meant, right? She recalls him visiting her dream at the beginning of their relationship. His turn away, her reach, and then suddenly he was grabbing her and their mouths were pressed together, heated and--

Ah.

She wrenches herself away from those thoughts. Solas has a question, and it wouldn't do to have her head in...other places. ]

Of course, I'll answer whatever you wish to know.

Bonded.

[The word was meant as a question, or perhaps an accusation— a wonderment, maybe. But instead it comes out like a bird, small and meek and fleet-winged, gone almost before he'd opened his mouth to let it fly. Bonded. What had she meant by that? What had his future self done? Or perhaps it had been done long ago, and he had been running all this time from the truth.

But it is not a thing to assume he knows. He has to ask, to have it spelled out clearly.]

I have never wished to be a chain around your neck. A bond such as the one you mentioned... Is that how you see us? Is that what you truly want?

[It boggles the mind that it would. Passion and love and lovemaking and the good of world, of course. But this was both more and less than all that. This was personal, soul-deep. He had to be sure.]

[ Well. She turns to face Solas, for this is a serious topic, and sits back up. ]

I swore to you that I would walk besides you, wherever that path leads. I told you that I would be by your side through whatever transpires. That our love will endure, through all trials. I know that you do not remember when I said that I would follow you into the Fade, but I trust that I have made my feelings clear, regardless.

I know that we don't have a Keeper on hand, nor would one, likely, agree to aid us in our declaration. [ What with everything with her, and everything with him. ] But one is not necessary. And I have already declared my intention to the only person that needs to hear it. [ That's you btw. ]

I do not see how it could be anything other than a bond. How I could be anything but bonded to you. Still--If you do not like the phrasing, then I will refrain. I would not ask of you to share my feelings on the matter.

[All through her speech he is staring at her, first in complete bafflement, his eyes wide and hungry, mouth slightly open and slack. Wonder transforms him, a rising glow of hope in his eyes as she continues, as he starts to believe— if not in the fullest sincerity of her promise, then in the fulfillment of an ancient and long-discarded dream. Every word out of her mouth is a gift, and

Still, if you do not like—

Solas surges up to silence her, on his hands and knees over her body, one hand cupping to curve of Beleth's cheek and jaw to direct her as he kisses her, as deep and as thoroughly as he knows how. How could he not like it? How could any man hear what she is saying, look into her violet eyes and stay sane? He pulls back, tries to find the words to express it to her, and ends up only shaking his head and kissing her again, pressed down with his weight on one elbow, until the fire turns tender, and the kiss ends in breath rather than teeth.]

Yes. [He says, quietly, breath of a whisper.] You have been stalwart. I... I never... Even before...

[Even when it was Mythal, to whom he had given all that he was, all that he might have been, she had never even thought to offer such a thing in return. It had been Elgar'nan she wanted, after the end of it all— that traitorous monster of a man. And he had been left with nothing but duty, and regret, and grief. But here, the shadows have all retreated to the corners in the face of her shining glory. He has to kiss her again.]

Thank you. I have no words, for the gifts you offer me.

[He will save her. He will save her. If it kills him, and half of Thedas he will not care. He will not let her go to die with the rest of them.]

Var lath vir suledin, Vhenan. I did not believe you. I believe you now.

[He will make those words into truth.]

[ She'd been starting to wonder, through her explanation--if she'd pressed too far, if she'd pushed over the line, if she'd gotten too intense, too much. But then, her back hits the mattress with a soft thump, and Solas' body covers her own, his expression just as vehement as she had worried she'd been. It's enough to already start her heart racing, then he kisses her, and any worries she had are blown away.

His heat burns her again, but this time, the fire does not smolder away. When he pulls away, she has to struggle to catch her breath, to catch her control, which has fled away from her. It feels, then, like something has finally clicked for him.

He believes her. He accepts that she loves him, and that she can not be dissuaded on the matter. Her blood is pounding in her ears (and traveling to other, more interesting places), and she grabs him. Her love. Her wonderful, kind, incredible beloved, that she would leave all that she was and could have been, to stay with him. And he seems to have finally accepted it. ]

I can think of something that does not involve words.

[ Then she kisses him again, hard. There had been plans she'd made, even for this, both in Thedas, and when they had come here. To give it time, to get to relearn each other. But she loves him, and it feels like he finally accepts that, and she is burning for him. Her body arches up, in case Solas has not quite grasped the meaning of her words, one leg brushing against his. She wants, in a way she has never truly understood in other people. It is a fascinating enlightenment. ]

Edited (what are word tenses) 2025-01-20 05:42 (UTC)

[So rapidly does she go from the profound to the profane that he has to laugh and draw her up into him, acquiescing to the unspoken demand with an eager will. The blankets are a rough wool and smooth linen, and he rolls them both so that in the next breath they are tumbling down not onto pillow and mattress, but down and down and down again, into the Fade itself...

And there is waiting a crystal lake, moss-soft, hazy with memory, and a brighter way than the unkind past.]

[Morning comes, the day after their shared dreamscape, and Caldera's sun flings a shaft of pale gold through the gap in the curtains. The room is small and snug, wood-floored, and wood-paneled, like most accommodations of the Dryad peoples. Solas wakes by inches, rising up from the fade like an idle bubble, coming to the surface.

He opens his eyes and the joy and beauty of her is an unlooked-for miracle. She is close, so close indeed that he can feel the warmth of her body all along his side and shoulder. Peace is a daydream that washes over Solas with all the force of the tides, and he can only reach out in dumb wonder, to brush tender fingertips against her cheek. He smiles for her, as she wakes, soft-edged and beatific.]

Good morning, Vhenan.

Edited 2025-02-05 05:54 (UTC)

[ It is an odd feeling, to have been conscious in your dreams, then pulled into the waking world, still just as aware. Is this how it felt to be a mage? Go from consciousness in the Fade to consciousness in real life? She doesn't know that she cares for the sensation. It still surprises her, a little, when she awakes, and sees the humble bedroom of their apartment, rather than the lush trappings of her rooms in Val Royeux. But even if she mourned the loss of fine silk curtains, there is one thing here that outstrips any luxury that Leliana could give her.

She turns to face Solas, a soft smile growing on her lips as she soaks in his touch. ]

You're here.

[ He has occupied many of her dreams, though it was hard to tell if any were the real man, lurking in the background, and which were the yearnings of a broken heart. But in all of them, he'd been gone when she'd awoken. ]

I hope you had a good sleep.

[He says nothing, neither to confirm nor deny her hope, but the gentle stroke of his thumb across her cheekbone and the slight widening of his smile are enough. Oh, but she is so beautiful, the shine of joy in her, and the way the light lays gentle on a willful curl across her brow, rendering it in auburn and gold. Her voice, so soft and dear, and close at hand.

He thought his heart would burst, merely to look at her. And this, this was merely the first time, the first morning when they woke up together, like this. How many more would he have with her?]

I am. [He whispers, and shifts a few inches closer, not even to kiss, but merely to be closer, and to see her better still.] How do you feel?

[ She feels soft. The lighting, beams across her, the smile on her face, the feeling in her heart as she looks up at him, they are all as soft as a cloud, but so much more real. She feels happy, too. More than she thought possible. Years of pining and yearning, planning and plotting. Going to sleep and waking up in a cold bed, hoping that one day soon, the threads she wove would come together into a tapestry where they could finally be together.

And here he is.

Still heavy with sleep, her hand goes up to his that caresses her, gently brushing fingers against him. ]

Like I could freeze time, for I cannot imagine a time when I could be happier than I am now.

[It feels silly, bordering on idiotic, to do nothing more than to lie there and smile stupidly at her in the wake of such a sentiment. But it's all he can manage for a long minute or two. It is all just so perfect; the warmth of the bed, and her weight so near-by, the soft contented expression, the tenderness in her touch.

More than he deserves, and so terribly, utterly wrong, to be lying here and loving her, when all the while he is still planning to...

Solas closes his eyes, and sighs again. There is never any peace, is there? Not while the work is undone. And yet, one morning, well-warned, can make no difference. Be at peace, be at peace; you owe her this much, at least.]

Ar lath ma, emma'nehn.

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