“I once knew of a gifted archer that trespassed into power she wasn’t prepared to inherit. The impact of her greed still afflicts this world.”
“If only you could see her now. The search alone will ruin you. I welcome you to it.”
“You may be mad, Nightingale, but you are not under its duress. At least, not yet. Pray to your Maker it remains that way.”
In my vision for DA4 I had always dreamed of a scenario where Leliana and Solas faced off, two brilliant minds pinned against one another. In this version, Leliana has been hardened and she leans into her more ruthless attributes. Thus she hunts the Red Lyrium Idol. In so doing Solas compares her pursuits to Andruil.
Gareth read this off beautifully. It was wonderful to receive it on my Birthday.
For @xdarkxkirliax who asked for more Dark!Solas. I think I’m slowly turning him into the Yandere I’ve always wanted.
:
:
:
A soft hoarse voice like fingernails against stone drifted up to his ears from the crook of his neck. "H-Hahren.." Spindly limbs shifted in his lap as the living husk of his lover sluggishly emerged from her hibernative state.
His finger paused in tracing patterns on the armrest as irritation flared between his brows. The Inquisitor was supposed to be sleeping. For someone so meek, she questioned his orders at the most inopportune times. Was it not enough that he had demonstrated his skill, his knowledge, his gentleness, his loyalty? And all he asked in return was her obedience.
Solas allowed a brief closing of his eyes as he silently willed his cold temper to thaw. It could not touch her. She could not learn or rest or trust if she learned to fear him, too. Gentle, he must be gentle.
He would lick her wounds and feed her from his cupped hand and kiss her quiet when the need arose, but he would also see to it that this medicine, however bitter for them both, would linger on her tongue as a reminder.
He lifted the young woman's chin with slender fingers . Her gaze was unfocused behind heavy lids, eyes a dull darkness in the roaring orange light beating a living pulse against their skin.
"Tallin." She twitched to life, and those eyes rolled like possessed game marbles to fixate on him. His affected expression was neutral, serene, but she found meaning in absence, regardless, and what he did not intend she would create for him. "You are supposed to be asleep."
Fearfully alert now, she inhaled sharp-sudden and parted her lips to respond, but a beat passed and no excuse would come.
He continued speaking, dropping his voice to a low pedagogic tone. "I tabled my evening's research because you complained it was too cold for you to sleep. I agreed to help keep you warm here because you promised me that you would rest. The Inquisition needs me, but I cannot fulfill my duties if I must remain by your side as you require me thus."
Her reticent mask contorted at his purposefully cruel barbs. A single blink and her dark-rimmed eyes were already glistening with unshed tears. Her chin trembled in his hold as her lips pulled back into a grimace. A thumb nail dug into the sallow skin of her inked cheek, pointedly beneath her bloodshot eye, pinning her in place. "Yet for all I continue to do for you, all for your benefit, you refuse to listen to me, da'len. Why? Has your kidnapping and brutal defilement not served as reason enough for why that is most unwise?"
Lavellan- “I thought you said the Vallaslin is the mark of a slave? To which god do you worship in this graveyard of stars?
You are a slave to your purpose, to your pride, to your wolf you keep shrouded in the Fade. Am I the one pretending? Or is it you?”
Solas- "I am bound to no one. This act you parade. It is unbecoming of the one who gave my wolf shape.”
You didn’t fool me with the sex, Moon’Hwa, nor with your false concern. Tell me, when you failed to kill me with the scissors, was that merely cowardice or did you drown in your own facade? I am not the fool here.”
This was rearranged from the original for the voicing and for convenance sake. An excerpt is posted below.
“Enough pretending.” Solas admonished, his voice was composed of bitterness and spite.
I observed his profile with measured confidence and asked again, “Who am I trying to fool? The god who knows everything?” I reluctantly lowered the jar of honey to rest on a nearby shelf, the last thing I would want to happen is to drop my father’s labors, lest a confrontation erupts.
Solas released the amulet, glanced at his hand, specifically the constellation he had embedded into it, and flexed it.
“This act you parade. It is unbecoming of the one who gave my wolf shape.” He grabbed my right hand and pushed his marked palm into mine. He searched my eyes, “A curious finger trespassed into crimson paint. One which did not belong to me.” He withdrew his palm methodically, his long digits lingering on the fold of my index finger. “I did not know you had an affinity for murals as well.”
“No,” I affirmed. “I don’t know.” I had nothing left to lose. Lying felt easier than cowering to the truth. I wouldn’t allow him one more win. Even if the biggest lie was made to that of myself, I would throw it back in his face and rub it in for good measure.
As he pulled away, I dug my nails into his wrist and held it aloft. “I thought you said the Vallaslin is the mark of a slave? To which god do you worship in this graveyard of stars?” I sneered, shaking his arm for emphasis.
"I am bound to no one.” He growled, yanking his arm back.
“You are a slave to your purpose, to your pride, to your wolf you keep shrouded in the Fade. Am I the one pretending? Or is it you ?”
“You didn’t fool me with the sex, Moon’Hwa, nor with your false concern. Tell me, when you failed to kill me with the scissors, was that merely cowardice or did you drown in your own facade? I am not the fool here.”
All rebuttals fled from the vengeance of my mind, and any words left behind clotted in my throat, instead I was left with a stewing pot of rage with nowhere to direct it. I could only offer him my quaking closed fists.
Solas waited, expectation pulling at his stony frown. He wrapped the excess of the blindfold around his arm and held the other end with his left. “There are…concepts that should remain unknown to you. For your own sake, and for mine .” The last word framed with a fragilely constructed sigh.
“What is left out there to maim my opinion of you?” I murmured, biting my cheek to suppress anything else born out of my rage.
Anyways having them read lines from my story brings forth the absolute joy. I am so grateful to the both of them for amusing my little dreams. These two have no idea but they are my guiding light out of this prevailing dark tunnel. I never knew grief could be so overwhelming. But these little lines remind me of what I could be again. That there is still joy to be found in all this ruin and darkness.
“You have memories you’d aspire to forget…so do I.” He stated lowly as his hand hovered over the board.
“The Veil I suppose.” I surmised as I selected my next move based on his.
Solas plucked his Pawn from its dock at A6 and observed it, twisting the stippled token in his fingers.
“It was a grand spectacle when the Evanuris played chess, they didn’t use marble carved pieces such as these. They used slaves armed with weapons.”
I relented my gaze from the board to stare at him in growing unease, no longer able to concentrate as I listened to him continue.
“Swords for the King and Queen, lances for the Knights, daggers for the rest. There was so much blood one could no longer see the checked tile. Deleterious entertainment.” Solas set the piece down, his tone tempered with notes of repressed rage.
"Is that how you became so skilled?" I murmured, thoughtlessly. "Who fought on your behalf?"
"You don't know what you suggest." He growled, his fist curling around the table. "Countless lives were lost, lives spent as if they meant nothing, no one fought on MY behalf. Do not equate me to them."
“And yet, when the mighty veil comes crashing down, you’ll free them. Those that are so evil. What happens if they escape your vague plans?” I chided, smug that I had something to wield against his supposed perfection.
“They will never see the light of day.” Solas raised those churning eyes to my own.
Armored fingers folded over into loose fists; Solas set his weight into the gold flecked mural and leaned in. “I must leave you, Vhenan.”
He pressed his head against the cooling surface, “I am sorry.” His eyes squeezing shut and his mouth twisted into a grimace as regret stained his tongue in the aftermath of those words.
“Rest assured, I will find her and I--” The breath shivered in his throat, “—will right these wrongs.”
Reluctantly, Solas withdrew. His hand relaxing into an open palm as it swept down gently caressing the fresco before him.
“One day you will understand.”
With his shoulders slumped he turned from the wall, his gaze trespassing over a fluid barrier encompassing a Dawnstone casket. From his cloak, he produced a small bundle cushioned in cloth of gold and stepped into the barrier.
The portrait of a woman painted behind him shimmered in metallic hues, the twinkling eyes chaperoned by false light and diaphanous powder. Six violet amethysts crushed into submission and subjected into the landscape of a grieving man’s regret. Sapphire pinched into the intricate lines of her vallaslin, Mother of pearl pressed into porcelain-snow skin, and obsidian stroked into ribbons of midnight-colored locks. Gold-leaf adorned her neck in ringlets, lavishing even more opulence upon the figure.
His shadow lengthened with each step and those carefully constructed eyes followed his form as he approached the casket in the center of the room.
The Dread Wolf bent humbly at the lip of the crystal casket, his fingers teasing the string of the bundle free, the fabric hissing like serpents against his metal hands. The luminous material swooned over his fingers and lying in the center was the Jawbone amulet.
He plucked it from the deflated fabric, and it dangled over the edge, frothing whisps unfurling from the opening just below. With a single whisper, he ushered the surface to divide and recede.
Solas held the cord with his other hand and placed the amulet on the still chest of someone lost, delicately curling the cord around her neck. His voice, an entanglement of sorrow, now victim to the sight below him, willed his lips to move, “I will return her to you,” and a single tear plummeted into a familiar face.
Armored fingers folded over into loose fists; Solas set his weight into the gold flecked mural and leaned in. “I must leave you, Vhenan.”
He pressed his head against the cooling surface, “I am sorry.” His eyes squeezing shut and his mouth twisted into a grimace as regret stained his tongue in the aftermath of those words.
“Rest assured, I will find her and I--” The breath shivered in his throat, “—will right these wrongs.”
Reluctantly, Solas withdrew. His hand relaxing into an open palm as it swept down gently caressing the fresco before him.
“One day you will understand.”
With his shoulders slumped he turned from the wall, his gaze trespassing over a fluid barrier encompassing a Dawnstone casket. From his cloak, he produced a small bundle cushioned in cloth of gold and stepped into the barrier.
The portrait of a woman painted behind him shimmered in metallic hues, the twinkling eyes chaperoned by false light and diaphanous powder. Six violet amethysts crushed into submission and subjected into the landscape of a grieving man’s regret. Mother of pearl pressed into porcelain-snow skin, and obsidian stroked into ribbons of midnight-colored locks. Gold-leaf adorned her neck in ringlets, lavishing even more opulence upon the figure.
His shadow lengthened with each step and those carefully constructed eyes followed his form as he approached the casket in the center of the room.
The Dread Wolf bent humbly at the lip of the crystal casket, his fingers teasing the string of the bundle free, the fabric hissing like serpents against his metal hands. The luminous material swooned over his fingers and lying in the center was the Jawbone amulet.
He plucked it from the deflated fabric, and it dangled over the edge, frothing whisps unfurling from the opening just below. With a single whisper, he ushered the surface to divide and recede.
Solas held the cord with his other hand and placed the amulet on the still chest of someone lost, delicately curling the cord around her neck. His voice, an entanglement of sorrow, now victim to the sight below him, willed his lips to move, “I will return her to you,” and a single tear plummeted into a familiar face.
