@solasast continued from here.
If there was one constant source of comfort in her life amongst all the chaos, it was painting; art as a whole, really. Admiring it, sketching, painting, even occasionally sculpting a ball of clay that she secretly kept in her pack. It all helped to sooth the near crippling terror that seemed dedicated to lingering within small frame. The gardens were an especially perfect place to paint, the Inquisitor taking refuge in a sunny patch of earth, hidden by tree and shrubbery. When it was nearly empty like it was today, those were her favourite times to paint.
With her back to the rest of the garden, she was focused, brush strokes deft and precise, as if every stroke of her paintbrush would be it’s last. At the moment, she was intent on finishing a rather colourful painting of what looked to be the Frostback Mountains in spring. Of course, Emmaera hadn’t a clue what those mountains looked like in spring, given that it wasn’t spring yet, but still; she enjoyed imagining the frosty peaks melting slowly, revealing earthy stone and rock, with the base covered in wildflowers.
She was so focused, Solas’s presence went unnoticed, even as he loomed. It wasn’t until his shadow past over her canvas that the Inquisitor tensed, freezing like a deer caught in the sights of a predator. Solas spoke though, words warm and complimentary and that fear subsided some, replaced with embarrassment and a very quiet pride. That was one thing she could accept; that her art was beautiful, that painting was her talent.
“Thank you, ah..” She sputtered, moving brush away from canvas afraid trembling hands might cause a misplaced stroke. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.” She admitted quietly, stepping to the side to allow him a better view of the painting. It wasn’t done just yet, but even still, it was gorgeous. “I don’t think it’s worth displaying though, I-I wouldn’t want to trouble Josephine with making it fit with the Hall’s decor.” A silly notion, given that Josephine had been asking her consistently to paint something to display since their arrival to Skyhold.
“—This is what I used to do, before...all this.” All this, being the mark, the breach, Corypheus; before her life was flipped on it’s head. “Val Royeaux was surprisingly receptive to me, I—” I was happy, she thought, but quickly closed open mouth and cleared her throat. “When did you start painting Solas?”
