#4 I'm feeling sappy and stupid and woefully nostalgic for solavellan. Indulge me ._.
Ok so i’m doing these strickly on a modernAU basis and it’s gonna follow the same lines the Abelas/Ramia side-story thing is going!
So this is kind of a part two!
You can read the Abelllan one (chapter 10 on AO3) and this on on AO3 as well here
@wren-bluebell this may also be of interest to you :P
Send me a number and a pairing!
“Val Royeux is a…tough crowd to please, so it seems.”
“Hmm?”
“The visitors, I have to admit to not taking your advice notto eavesdrop near my painting, when others view it. Some of the critiques havebeen…”
“Unfair?”
“In a sense.”
The gallery had gone well- no, better than well, the placehad been bustling with viewers throughout the night. The reception however toSolas’ work was mixed, on the lines that most did not seem as keen on it asthey were with other pieces within the gallery. Which had gotten to him.
It was getting later in the night, at which point all thegallery exhibitors and staff could freely consume what was left at the bar.Leaving most of them buzzing and much more relaxed. Even Moro seemed to be muchlaxer, a wine glass in hand and a smile for Solas when he came to sit besideher at the bar.
Solas wasn’t ungrateful for tonight’s turn of events, hefelt incredible in fact. To return to “the game” as it were and for things togo as smoothly as it had was more than he could ask for. Moro seemedunderstanding of his frustration despite it all as she ordered him a drink,ignoring his insistence not to.
Especially when she saw his eyes light up at the bright pinkconcoction the bartender placed before him. Moro pegged him for someone wholiked alcohol that didn’t actually taste like it.
“Frescos aren’t very common which was what caught my eye toit in the first place,” Moro took another long sip of her wine, draining the glass.“I suppose people here don’t take an interest in styles they are unfamiliarwith. Harder to bullshit like you know what you’re talking about that way.”
Solas snorted timidly, this Moro woman was a strange sort.Her poker face at the best of times mixed with her hawk-like gaze made it sothat he was always taken aback when she used crasser language. But she was verymatter of fact, and blunt as well. Something he always appreciated in people.
“But after this, it’s clear people in Val Royeux have apreference for sculptures.” Moro gestured for another drink as she carried theconversation, crossing a leg over and revealing the whole expanse of her legoffered by her choice of attire.
Thick thighs Solas noted, until he mentally chided himself.Glaring at the cocktail in his hand and placing it down. How much alcohol wasin it, that his mind sent him down thosesort of thoughts?
She did look lovelythough, he thought.
Solas was taken from his musings when Moro slapped his shoulder.
“Stop looking so glum! It’s been a good night.”
“Yes, you are right. I am being much too pessimistic.” Solasagreed, withholding the desire to rub his arm. The woman was stronger than sheprobably knew, and he would have felt silly regardless.
“Besides, someone bought your fresco.”
Solas almost fell out of his seat, staring with excitement andshock at the woman.
“Who?!”
“Me.”
“You?! Why?”
Moro shrugged her shoulders, taking another gulp of wine.Her face flushed and showing signs of inebriation. Snorting at his question likethe answer was obvious.
“Because I like it.”
Perhaps it could bethat simple.
“Well…I…thank you, I am unsure what to say.”
“You can tell me your number.”
“What?”
Moro rolled her eyes. Putting her drink down and resting herhead in her hand as she leaned on the bar table.
“I have people who’d want to commission you, if frescos areyour thing. So cough up your number.”
“Are you always so forward?” Solas inquired with a smile.
“I’ll probably blame it on the drink tomorrow.” She quippedback.
After exchanging numbers, they both looked ahead. The younggirl from two days ago, that Solas now knew as Ramia and Moro’s daughter wasdeep in conversation with Abelas. Abelas for once Solas noticed, did not seemto be in a discussion and show signs he wanted to be anywhere else. Somethinghe had not seen in the young man for a long time.
Her daughter on the other hand was like a bright like in adark room, face full of emotion and expression. Hands moving haphazardly toaccompany whatever she spoke about. Smile beaming on her face as she carriedtheir conversation.
“How old is Ramia?”
“She’ll be twenty-two in the spring. Which reminds me, I’llhave to call her father and organise something soon.”
“You are both on good terms then?” Solas asked but immediatelyscolded himself. It was none of his business and he was ready to explain asmuch in an apology. But Moro got to him first with narrowed eyes and a grin.
“Look at you getting all nosey,” She joked, waving her handfor Solas not to take her seriously. “Yes we are, her father’s too much of apussy cat to hold grudges.” Moro put down her glass and dusted herself off.
“Right! I have some schmoozing to do, so…” Moro pulled Solasclose to slap a kiss to his cheek, leaving a bright lipstick mark in its placeand patting him on the other cheek. “Have a good night Solas.”
He was frozen in place, his hand coming up to touch whereher lips had been. Staring off into space and questioning whether what hadhappened had actually just…happened.
“Sir…are you going to finish that?” The bartender asked.
Solas kept his wide-eyed stare as he searched for his drink.Downing the entire thing in one swig and watching Moro stalk across the room toher target of interest.
“What just happened there?” The bartender asked, witness tothe entire thing.
“I…have no idea.”
