It Doesn’t Fit
@shadow-thorn After hours of exploration he ended up walking, unwittingly, into another person’s dream. It seemed like another elf’s dream at first. But that assumption felt misplaced, even if he wasn’t entirely certain. What once was a constructed field of harmonizing flowers, had transformed into to brittle bones of petals, that fractured so rapidly they burst across his flesh. Surprised by the physical affront, he flinched, looking at the slowly fading wounds with mild apprehension. He traversed the plains to help what he assumed to be a tormented spirit. The flowers crystallized into seething ice - shattering as soon as he passed them. But the vast field in front of him was filled with embers and smoke that was almost as dire as sulfur. Putrid despair, the sickening sort that was suffocated with thickness The emotion that leaked through the dreaming was enough to send any spirit into a spiral of confusion. The spirit was not immediately visible, but he did see shadows that crept across the tragic terrain - intent on winding through the shifting pores of the fade like vines grasping for purchase. Solas finally stumbled upon the spirit (or elf), and stilled in propriety. “I apologize if I’ve intruded.” He felt a blackness like slick oil, and concern immediately overrode any sense of politeness and evasion. “...your pieces need help. Are you hurt?”