#lavellas

[mala-revas]

Solas carries a small leather-bound notebook and a charcoal stick everywhere he goes. He likes to sketch moments of his travels with Lavellan, perhaps when she is gathering herbs, or admiring a mosaic, or tending to a wounded party member. Before long all the pages are filled with every angle of her face, every detail memorised.

[mala-revas]

Beyond Senses

It's as though he has never seen a woman before, the way his eyes settle on her swaying hips in front of him, leading them across the fields, deserts, marshes.  

It's as though he has never heard laughter before, the way his ears ring with her tone as she giggles; tales of adventure drawing joy from her cherry lips.

It's as though he has never tasted before, the way his tongue consumes her, fresh as water pouring from a mountain spring, roaring through the weathered canyons in his soul.

It's as though he has never known smell before, the way that soft honey-milk scent lingers on her shoulders, warm and mellow, the memory of home draws him to her.

It's as though he's never felt heartbreak, the way her face crumbles as he backs away, her eyes asking a question he can never answer, her arms reaching out to make real the shadow of a man.

She saw more than most.

[mala-revas]

I took no screenshots of Nyriel after this point because nothing bad happened, they killed Corypheus together and they live in a little cottage in the woods with their five dogs and Cole and live happily ever after.

[cadashly]

Lavellan/Solas - Morbid Thoughts

Haven haunts her still. All the people she was too late to save. The screams of the dying, the dead burning, smoke choking her lungs, ashes in the snow…

“If I die,” Lavellan whispers, late at night when they’re alone and darkness fills the room, “I don’t want a pyre. The humans must bury me, like my clan would, and plant a tree over my grave.”

It’s a morbid thought, perhaps, but a necessary one. Solas opens his eyes; his mind had already been half in a dream. She is grateful that he doesn’t protest. He doesn’t tell her not to dwell on such grim things, nor does he mention the historical inaccuracy of this and every other Dalish rite–although Lavellan is certain he wants to.

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan,” Solas murmurs, holding her a little tighter. “But I hope it never comes to that. Losing you would…”

“I know.” And she does, even though he has never been able to finish that sentence. Maybe it’s too painful a reality for him to consider. At least she can rest easier now, knowing she will not be reduced to ashes one day.

They slip into the Fade together, their minds turning to happier things.

[mala-revas]

Tomorrow is my last day of work. You know what that means: endless hours to write more delicious OTP goodness :3

[mala-revas]

Lavellan actually has trouble remembering to eat when at skyhold, what with being so caught up in meetings and judgements and appeasing fancy nobles all day. solas makes sure to bring her a hearty meal when she's less busy, usually in the late evening, to keep her strength up. They talk of all manner of things as they break bread, from human politics to lectures about the Qun and debates over whether daisies are really a weed or just a misunderstood flower. The warmth of the fire and their full bellies inevitably gets the better of them, and on more than one occasion she has woken up by the dying embers of the hearth nestled in solas' sleeping arms. She'd never admit it, but solas cooks better than even the most skilled cooks in her clan, and she looks forward to this nightly ritual with all its pleasant conversation and good food with every impatient moment of the day.

[cadashly]

One night Varric invites Solas and Lavellan to the tavern for a few drinks and maybe a game of cards (If Solas promises not to play; he always wins and he doesn’t even cheat. No fair.)

They make an effort to socialize with everyone at first, but the nerds’ end up just talking to each other after their discussion topic quickly shifts to magic or the Fade, interspersed with Elvish words. No one else can follow any of it, not that they’d want to.

Sera tells them that if they love the Fade so much, they should get a room there. Away from her. Iron Bull laughs and raises his tankard in agreement.

"Every new couple goes through this phase where they can't get enough of each other," Varric sighs. "Why don’t you two just make out like normal people? At least then you wouldn’t be giving me a headache."

[cadashly]

So, uh...I just snagged the url wolfandhart. On one hand, it might be time for url change, and also Solas/Lavellan symbolism, but...I don't know.