Lavellan: Tell me you don’t care.
Lavellan: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a coldhearted son of a bitch and move on!
She shoves him three times as she speaks, each one increasing in intensity, but on the third, Solas cannot bare it any longer. He catches her right wrist and raises it up near his shoulder, holding it tightly - not tight enough to hurt her, but tightly enough so that she will not easily break away. His face is stone except his lip, which betrays a momentary quiver.
She freezes - not as much in shock, but in hope. She dares not breathe.
He leans forward ever so slightly, shifting his weight forward into his right foot, and pulling her wrist slightly higher and closer to his neck - his firm grip unwavering. He can feel her pulse pounding in his fingertips. If this were the balcony of the Winter Palace, it might look as though he were about to lead her in a dance.
He looks down directly into her watery eyes with an intensity that is fierce but not threatening. Suddenly, his stone features crack and a softness peeks through. His eyes begin to squint, and with tightened, downturned lips he inhales deeply through his nose - every ounce of his self-discipline willing away the possibility of a tear falling from his own eyes.
He exhales. She still hasn't breathed.
He gently raises his right hand to her cheek and brushes it tenderly with his knuckles - as tenderly as he ever had in the past. His head tilts to the side and then slightly forward, as if he is being pulled by some magical force in towards that cheek. All the while his other hand's stern grip on her wrist still does not waiver. He is split in right two and his body is mimicking this.
His heart is now only half stone - the feel of her soft, sweet, warm, still-glowing, newly bare cheek against his skin crumbles away his defenses. He wipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb. In turn, a single tear breaks loose from his eye. She finally inhales.
Her lips part in instinctual response.
His fingers leave her cheek and wrap gently around the side of her head, entwining in her hair, and at the same time he finally lessens his grip on her wrist and pulls it down to press her palm against his chest.
She can feel his heartbeat.
He closes his eyes and tilts his chin down toward her.
She closes her eyes and raises her chin to him. Electricity flooding her chest in pulsating waves of energy.
And there is no mistaking its meaning:
Her heart does a sickly flip inside her chest and then promptly crashes and breaks - utterly and completely. The all-too-brief surge of electicity that had just overwhelmed every fiber of her instantly dissipates, leaving behind a hollow, numbing ache.
He releases her wrist carefully and her hand drops to her side as if it were made of lead. He takes two measured steps back.
"I'm sorry," he exhales with a tremble. Then, without hesitation, he turns and walks away into the shadows.
The whole world is brutally still - except for the waterfalls faintly roaring in the distance behind her, echoing off the surrounding rock walls. It is the only sound left for her to hear this night, standing alone under the stars.
