It's... A book.
That meaning, it's a package very clearly in the shape of a book, and with the wight of a book. In lieu of anything new to wrap it with, the gift has been carefully folded up in a square of worn red and gold fabric. Despite it's age the fabric is still strong, color fading at the edges where a golden design had once been.
The book itself is far older than the fabric Cullen had wrapped it in, the leather of it's bindings aged and cracking, any lettering that had once been so proudly displayed now worn completely from it's surface. On the outside, the book is indecipherable.
The words are clearly Elvhen from some age past. Tucked inside is a scrap of plain undyed and unadorned fabric, folded carefully over a small handwritten note.
' I recalled seeing this book in the library at Kinloch recently. It never left the shelf other than the few times I flipped through the pages, but I was still surprised to see it here after my inquiry. I had it retrieved for you. For your Name Day. '
If the note were to be flipped there is a small secondary scribble on the back, still in the commanders handwriting, but written quickly as though an afterthought.
' I do not know the contents of this book. If it's of an offending nature, I apologize in advance. As a young templar I thought the illustrations charming. '
It's Solas' Name Day (kinda) // @duete
Solas was surprised to find the carefully wrapped artefact sitting on his desk as he entered his rotunda. He unwrapped it with ceremony, folding the fabric into the shape of a neat triangle and which he set aside with equal care. He brushed his fingers across the indecipherable cover, trying to see if he could discern anything from it, which he could not.
He opened the book, and out slipped the letter, which he skillfully caught before it hit the ground. Setting the book back down, he unfolded it with the same meticulous attention before reading its contents. There was his second surprise. The gift had come from their lion-hearted commander.
He arched a brow at the unexpected gesture. That Cullen would think to recognize the day he'd haphazardly thrown a dart at was... well, it was something.
Next, fate would find its whimsy to surprise him with a gift from Dorian, then perhaps Vivienne.
Not only was it something, but it was also something rather thoughtful. He turned the letter over where he saw the hasty scrawl of post-script, and could not help a faintly amused lift at the corners of his lips.
He set the note atop its cloth wrapping, and properly addressed the book itself. From the first page he flipped to, he could roughly interpret the volume's origin and context. It was not from his time, but from the era when the remnants of his people still clung to ground at Halamshiral. The tome chronicled the Elvhen warriors of that age. Their armors, magicks, and a selection of tales of triumphed battles. It was no wonder Cullen was drawn to its illustrations.
He smoothed his index finger across one of the portraits of an Elvhen warrior, and thought of home.
Cullen would need a proper thanks.