hi norrington-hell! This is a question in regards to Redemption's Promise (fic of my life and heart atm). So, when Elizabeth leaves the note for James that she's left to find Will, and then James follows her to Tortuga....If he hadn't followed her (which, of course he would have), would SHE have ever returned to find him?
Oh, @kallielefave, I’m so glad you asked! Thank you so much! I’m always thrilled to answer questions about my magnum opus!
It goes without saying:
This post contains spoilers for Redemption’s Promise.
When she left, Elizabeth was experiencing a mix of emotions. First, she was angry that James didn’t trust her, and possibly never had. Additionally, she didn’t know why or what she had done to lose his trust, and didn’t feel safe simply asking him about it. Then, when Beckett arrived, she was further confronted with the side of James he’d kept hidden from her in this timeline. For someone on the cusp of entrusting the entirety of their life to someone, finding out that person might not be who they seemed is pretty jarring.
Secondly, there’s the fact that Elizabeth knows how much Will means to James…and vice versa. She cares about Will too but knows James could never live with himself if something happened to Will. Especially if he was the cause.
So combine feeling scared, trapped, lied to, helpless…and Elizabeth decides to take action. She decides to take her fate into her own hands.
Now. Let me state: James was always going to follow Elizabeth. In fact, if he had restarted again, he would have followed her over and over for all eternity because that’s how he is.
But, if he hadn’t…Elizabeth would have left permanently. She would have been caught up in the events that followed (the chest, the kraken, the brethren court), and she would have, eventually, moved on.
You see, James’ focus on Elizabeth borders on obsession. To him, ‘a life without Elizabeth is unlivable,’ and so there is no other option. But, for Elizabeth, while she would obviously prefer to have James in her life, he isn’t the only person/thing who matters to her. Even at 20, she is more emotionally well-adjusted than James with his cumulative 35/36.
So she would have moved on, even if she spent the rest of her life asking herself if she did the right thing. She would have missed him terribly, but if James never went after her, that would have been all the proof she needed that he wasn’t actually the man she thought he was.
I know that’s…not a nice answer. And it’s certainly not the kind of story I have any interest in telling. But that is where the characters were in their journey at the time. They still had a lot of growing to do…and if they hadn’t done that growing together, then they would have grown apart for good.
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Redemption’s Promise is a Pirates of the Caribbean/Norribeth fanfic written by myself (HolmesFan) which can be found on AO3. If you have any questions or comments, my dms are always open.~
Hello. Is it possible for you to create a master post of all Solas related audio dialogue you've uploaded? They are so relaxing (painful) to work to. Ma serannas.
me: I haven’t uploaded that much Solas audio, have I? me: *looks back at all the audio files I’ve uploaded*me: …holy crap
I’m just a big fan of voice acting, lmao… Gareth David Lloyd is a sweet prince
solas talking calmly for 10 minutes (I’ve been meaning to make “solas yelling for 10 minutes” one too, because this kind of thing is great for fanfic reference, but I also have more than enough to make several more of him just calmly talking (and it’s soothing and easy to make them so I probably will when I need some stress-free task to do))
solas yelling loudly for 10 minutes
everything Solas says in elvish (except for one line he says to Mihris that I forgot, whoops)
(spoilers) every single possible line that Solas says in Trespasser
(spoilers) the Negative Responses that Solas will say when he hates the Inquisitor in Trespasser
Solas and Varric’s conversation about the Man on the Island
everything Solas says about the Blight
Solas’ Journey to Skyhold speech
Solas’ reaction if you make him help you kill ancient elves :’/
my favorite Sera+Solas party banter <3<3<3
Solas and Dorian banter hinting at what might happen in DA4
Solas dialogue that isn’t in the final game, that I only found by rummaging around in the files, so you can only really hear it here:
A missing/removed dialogue option for the last romance scene at Crestwood (warning: this is effing sad, and I couldn’t believe my ears when I found it)
Solas talking to Morrigan about Mythal!
A cute little line missing from the ball at Halamshiral
Solas calling f!Lavellan “lethallan”
the Inquisitor asks Solas what he knows about the Temple of Mythal (no audio)
more missing dialogue from the Temple of Mythal, featuring Morrigan and Abelas (not Solas dialogue, but interesting) - (1) (2)
also this would probably interest you (not uploaded by me)
For the minific....E. Sharing a drink, Solavellan :)
lips that touch liquor
He hears their laughter through the walls, an echo thatcarries, to settle like a sigh in walls that have longed for the sound forcenturies. His own, far quieter place remains just that, but he doesn’t begrudge themthis moment, even if he’d rather not partake, for all of Varric’s many attempts at luring him out of his willing seclusion.
“Is this where you’ve been,” he hears her voice, the soft,familiar tones gently chiding, and he looks up to find her in the doorway. She’s in the simple garments usually reserved for her private chambers, a loose shirt and breeches, and her uncombedhair curls lovingly against her throat. In her hand she carries something,wrapped in a piece of cloth.
“Not one for card games?” Ellana asks, pushing away from the door frame to come stand beside his chair, leaning back against the desk. “It’s ashame – with the way you school your expressions, you could have us all running naked through the halls.”
She’s not touching him, the loose lines of her shoulders speaking of an ease that he’s come to know and feel himself, but her close proximity still carries a world of weight.
Solas glances up, head inclined and smile carefully inscrutable. There is something about her that prompts responses he’s much too old for. “You as well?”
He hears the near imperceptible hitch of her breath, but she’s quick to recover. “If you’d beat me,” she concedes. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, before they stretch into a smile. “It would have been quite the sight.”
This thinly veiled coquetry is not a new occurrence,but there’s something particularly daring about their exchange now. Solas allows apause to follow at the heels of her words, before replying, still holding hergaze, “I have no doubt.”
A familiar tension shivers across the air,a dancing drum that begs and beckons. He’s stopped wondering how theycome to be like this, always just out of each other’s reach, and the slow-fading memoryof a dream-kiss living in the ever-shrinking space between them.
What he does wonder is what it will finally take, to swallow the distance completely.
“Have a drink with me?” she asks then, the words escapingwith a breath, and the moment shudders – snaps and dissipates, like the poppinghiss of a fire-spell, and leaving the same, lingering warmth. “We don’t have toplay cards,” she adds, eyes twinkling.
Solas considers her where she stands, half-sitting,half-leaning on his desk, and the tell-tale, rosy flush to her cheeks. So easyto decline, and that will be all. She’ll retire to her quarters, andlikely never offer anything of the sort again.
So remarkably easy, and yet–
“So long that it is not tea,” he says, and seesthe relief that chases across her face, just before her cunning smile tucks it away and out of sight.
“Oh, don’t worry. This,”she declares, removing the cloth to reveal the bottle within and holding it up forhim to see. A pale coloured liquid sloshes cheerfully against the glasscontainer when she gives it a shake. “Bears no resemblance to the stuff.”
She’s in a strikingly good mood, he notes – either she’d won the card game, or had aglass or two before she’d braved the halls to seek him out. As she’s still fullydressed, discounting her distractingly half-buttoned shirt, Solas decides it’slikely some combination of the two.
Ironically, all he has to offer by way of glasses are teacups – two, white porcelain with gilded edges, but she fills them generously and leaves the bottle open on the table. The smell wafts against him, a cutting edge, alongwith a wash of old memories – raucous, carefree laughter in endless halls oflight, and glasses that never emptied.
Fingers curving around the teacup, he stares into the drink,pale and shimmering in the torchlight. He wonders if she’ll laugh like that –tongue loosened, and belly aching from her own mirth. Carefree, if only for a moment.
Ellana nudges her cup against his, before tossing it back.Solas only shakes his head, small smile curving at her sudden vigour, and follows suit.
It’s – surprisingly strong.
“Fenedhis,” Ellana spits, coughing and peering into her empty cup. “What is this?”
Solas tries to keep a level face, but can’t quite hold back his own cough, or the roughened strain of his voice, “Where did you find it?”
She makes a face – features contorting into a dearly comicalsight. “Slipped it from Dorian’s stash,” she declares. “Although now I’m regretting I didn’t go for the Antivan wine.” Another cough escapes her, and a sharp, hissing breath. “Blast it, that burns.”
A laughs slips, unbidden from his lips. Her display is endearingly honest. “Wine is all well and good,but you cannot deny there is a certain – pleasure, to the burn.”
Her eyes find his. Her pupils are dilated, impossibly wide and dark against thecharcoal of her irises. A staggering sight. “True,” she agrees, swallowing. “It’s–”she breathes, “certainly an experience.” A pause, long and languid. “And I suppose there’s some merit to not playing it safe.” She’s shifted a bit closer, knees knocking against his, and her wordsseem swallowed by the air, thick with something he can’t name.
“Another?” she asks then, her grin suddenly fierce, and terribly,terribly young, the promise of that lighthearted laughter he remembers, bright in her eyes, and something else – something he shouldn’t long for but does, so much so thathis answer is to hold out his cup, as she pours them both another generous helping.
The next mouthful goes down with less resistance, burning apath down the back of his throat, a velvet fire that leaves him feelingsated and starved all at once. And she’s sitting there, perched on the desk now, eyes dark and lips wetwith the drink’s stinging kiss.
It takes one breath – one deep inhale, filling his lungs,followed by a release that makes him sink against his chair, along with her own weight, slipping from the desk with ease. It’s a smooth motion, the solid warmth of her settling against his thighs, andthe soft curves beneath her half-buttoned shirt pressed against his chest. She’swarmer than the room, warmer than the drink, and suddenly her eyes are everythinghe sees, and he doesn’t think of spiralling towers and bottomless crystaldecanters, ensorcelled to keep their contents from ever emptying. It’s anotherkind of alive, the way he feels now, under the weight of her; body and gaze andspirit.
“Another?” she asks then, lips less than an inch from his, and hefeels her shape the word; tongue wrapping around the syllables, as though to taste them. And he knows she’s not talking about the drink now but something else – thelast time they were this close, dream-walking under the winter sky, snowflakesin her hair and her fingers curled around his chin. The kiss, insistent atfirst, then hesitant; a statement followed by a question, and his answer lostagainst her mouth, twice as desperate.
She searches for it now – confirmation to continue, and Solas’ answer is the brief angle of his head, acceptance, and when he shifts in his seat she sinks further against him, and with his next breath a shudder against her mouth–
“Is that my bottleof Sun Blonde you’ve brazenly emptied like a tankard of dragon piss?!”
The sudden exclamation makes them both jump, and instead of a kiss her startled oath is what falls against his lips, before her gaze is drawn to the railing above. Solas feels the physical release of it, and knowing who is staring down at them, makes apoint to look in the opposite direction.
Despite her surprise, Ellana hasn’t moved off his lap, but the thought is almosttoo brief to register properly, between the drink’s sultry haze and having to concentrate so as not to reveal the rather — telling evidence pertaining to his body’s reaction.
“Are you sure it isn’t dragon piss? By the foul taste, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Irritation has settled into a small furrow between her brows– a look he recognizes as one she’ll use to hide her disappointment. He feels the slight tremble in her hands, and knows her feelings for what they are; hears them in her words, not quite as snappish as she’d like them to be.
And Solas can’t see Dorian’s face, but can very well imagine theexpression that remark has prompted.
“That ‘piss’ is a rare vintage, and priceless, might I add! And you know, just for that, I’m going to stand here andobserve.” His obstinacy is not the least bit surprising, Solas finds, but laments their loss of privacy all the same. “Come on,” Dorian adds, cheerfully. “Have at it.”
Muttering obscenities under her breath, Ellana moves to slide off his lap, andhe feels the bereavement of her presence in the sudden sense of loss that comes tosettle somewhere behind his ribcage.
Running a hand through her hair, she’s making a point of not looking at eitherof them, but, “I’m sorry,” she says to Solas, the words low and under herbreath. “That – got out of hand.” She doesn’t specify what – the drinks or thenear kiss, but she doesn’t have to. He thinks of the liquor, the slow, pooling burn and the sharpafter-taste, but the first memories to arise now are not those of an oldcamaraderie, lost to the ages and his own mistakes, but her eyes, dark with boundless affection and focused solely on him. Her disappointment at their interruption, as tangible as the rest of her and just as honest.
He longs to feel it again, alive like that – alive with her – and so it’s his turn to ask now – “Perhaps another time?”And he doesn’t have to specify what he means, either, by the way her face lightsup, and the delight that comes to settle in her eyes, along with a relief she doesn’t bother hiding.
“And preferably with someone else’s private liquor stash,” Dorian adds from above, a dry warning.
“Don’t worry, Dorian,” Ellana says, though she’s stilllooking at Solas. And they’re back to where they started, a repartee of ladenremarks and looks that touch. Except something has changed, and he feels it inhis gut, sharp and sweet as the liquor’s curling warmth.
She smiles, and he feels that, too. “I’m sure we’ll come up with some kind of…alternative.”
