ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhaven is much quieter here than he ever knew it, than its history had known in recent decades, but it is a reassurance that his magic still sits strongly in his core, the winter wind as bitter as before, bright snow gleaming across the fixtures. crafted from memory and magic, shaped by want and will, HAVEN HAS BECOME ITS NAMESAKE : a muted sanctum between them, empty of its previous inhabitants. " you said so yourself, haven is important to you. it breeds familiarity. what happened here, you will not let happen again. and i believe you. "
a hand upon his arm, fingers grip at his sleeve, she stops him. some part of the fade flickers out of reach, a memory of something yet, a similar grasp, a clutching of his heart, the wolf whispers in his head to remember this moment. solas looks back at ashalle, her quizzical gaze as she says his name, and then no more, as if something forgotten. he remembers the look on his own face, unsure of where he was, his mother's hand in his as she guided him over threshold. is this how it is always done ? is this how dreamers always look ; lost and yet found, too ? tilt of his lips, just at the corners, she is past recollection now, the way all dreams work, BUT HER HAND STILL SITS PERCHED ON HIS SLEEVE, and he restrains himself from doing more than a slight chuckle, his own hand rising to meet hers, a gentle hold of her as they lock eyes once more.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthe very picture of unearthly, something so ethereal against the white backdrop of their minds, and still so grounded, LIKE ROOTS THAT GROW DEEP BELOW THE DIRT. ashalle is both the bright light of the day and the soft dark that overtakes at night. dangerous thoughts, all the more prevalent here, freely taken from his mind, an artistry to the weave of the world. " you still have work to do, erelan, before you are a master. ghi'la ma ar'am shathe. " his hand still holds her, skin against skin ; eyes drift to it now, the anchor that should have torn the veil entirely instead sewed into the elven girl, one he could not separate in his mind from the one he served before, as if some cruel trick of the evanuris for all his misdeeds against them. SHE IS TO MYTHAL AS SHE IS TO THE ANCHOR, unbroken bond and stitched together. " i watched you, sat beside you while you lie unconscious, studying the anchor. you were a mystery. i ran through every test i could think of, and yielded no results, nothing from the fade. cassandra threatened to execute me if i didn't produce results, another apostate gone in the tragic loss. i do not doubt she would have had she reason to believe was i doing them a disservice. "
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