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Felassan ([personal profile] loosed) wrote2025-02-04 10:06 am
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thecodexabides: (am I a lego?)

I AM SO SORRY Text @gadriel

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-02-28 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[Right. Well. He asked for penance and the Inquisitor took her time and selected a punishment for his sins that hurt so badly he'd rather face a hive tyrant, naked, with a combat knife.

[But penance is penance. The great news? EVERYONE gets to suffer. The Inquisitor somehow thinks this is team building.
[At least as text he can just...not have to say anything.]


What kind of streets do ghosts haunt

???
thecodexabides: (Default)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-01 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
Do you not know what a ghost is?

[Hmmm, Maybe he selected the wrong joke. He will have to consult his text. Maybe he should have listened to the Inquisitor and stuck with those 'knock knock' jokes? ]
thecodexabides: (weapons shaming)

How

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-01 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
[What? ]

In the cemetery, there are.
According to the Medicine Selle---
-

--that is not the point.
You are to answer the question.
thecodexabides: (sidelit)

how is this all going so badly for him XD

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-01 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
Yes.
You are to admit you do not know.
[The Inquisitor insisted that everyone knew how jokes worked. Turns out, that was a LIE.]
thecodexabides: (DEFINITELY judging)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-01 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
Yes.
NO.

Not anymore
since you RUINED it.
[Harrumph. Now you'll never know that ghosts hang out in dead-ends. Your loss. ]
thecodexabides: (does this man ever not side eye)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-01 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
I can tell

when I am being patronized.
[Now you hurt his feelings, you MONSTER. ]
thecodexabides: (cautious)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-01 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
[How could you have missed the signs that it was a joke. The random text out of nowhere? The cryptic question? Gadriel's generally hilarious demeanor? THERE WERE CLUES.]

fine

a dead-end
Now you know.
thecodexabides: (daylight armed)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-01 02:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[Gadriel takes no credit for the quality of the joke, because it was written down. He had simply executed his portion of it...poorly apparently. ]

is that a joke as well?
Because if so,
I do not know.
[See? He understands joke structures! Kinda.]
thecodexabides: (did I leave the oven on?)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-02 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
[In Felassan's credit, there was context that it was a joke. And still Gadriel asked. ]

... Of course that would be a require--
OH.

It is a pun. [He got there. Eventually. All by himself!]

thecodexabides: (double hmmm)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-09 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
What brought what on?

Is this also a joke?
[New level of confusion. Once you walk down this bumpy path of humor, it is hard to tell where it ends. Gadriel hates it. ]
Edited (html) 2025-03-09 01:21 (UTC)
thecodexabides: (double hmmm)

[personal profile] thecodexabides 2025-03-17 04:39 pm (UTC)(link)
it is an assigned penance from the Inquisitor.

[Whom Gadriel knows better than to disobey.]
goethbeforethefall: (grit your teeth let go your shell)

In Person, for a certain definition of "in person"

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-05-13 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
It comes to pass that if you invite a dreamwalker into your life, that you might one day soon come to dream of him. So it is with Solas and Felassan, on this night. It was not a conversation he approached without trepidation, nor difficulty: for one thing, simply calling for Felassan via the little birds felt... impersonal. And he still could not be sure that they would not be listened to. It was right that the petitioner go to the one of whom they asked, not that Felassan be summoned before him. Even now, the long shadow of Arlathan's tight fist still falls over his mind.

And of course, some things are still easier in the Fade.

"Felassan," He calls, from the edge of the dream. It is a green dream, a dream of forest glades and golden dust-motes. Solas hopes it will be a good one, "I would speak with you. Are you willing?"
goethbeforethefall: (Default)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-05-13 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
Solas would, ordinarily, regard this with the exasperated expression of someone for whom all courtesy is mere illusion, Felassan more brother than friend, and would you knock that off please as common a word of their vocabulary as breath itself. But something of that east distance, and lack of distance, died when Felassan did, and...

...and what replaced it was not father, nor less intense, but it was different. And the seed of it had grown until Solas simply bears the once-over with a lift of his chin, and a slight cant of shoulder and hip. He knows he must look acceptable, because Felassan seems pleased.

It is very different to their last meeting, in the Fade.

"Then it is my pleasure to be the first," He says, stepping forward. The grass brightens under his feet, briefly flourishing, only to die as each step lifts away. Even here, the fade greets him like an affectionate cat, "I had a very interesting conversation with Beleth, recently, and it gave me cause to seek your out. Do not doubt that I have questions... But I am all too aware of our shared history."

It is a rehearsed speech, of course. He had pondered for a long time on what to say, how to say it. How to broach the topic without backing his friend into a desperate corner.

"Tell me that you wish only a quiet visit from a friend, and I will not speak. But if you would hear what I have to say..."
goethbeforethefall: (sorrow is pride's child)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-05-13 05:11 pm (UTC)(link)
I didn't want to lie to her, he says, and Solas cannot help the way he moves, the recognition of Beleth's assessment in the turn of his head, the bounce of his step. Ah-ha, it is the truth after all. He had not doubted her, of course, but it is one thing to know, and another to see.

He sees now, and is torn between a strange, new wonder... and a deep, appalling sense of having missed... everything. What did it mean for this to be true? For how long had Felassan been longing, saying nothing?

Everything is fine, and I would never...

"...Betray me?" He finishes, droll and quiet, smiling for the joke, despite dire memory's velvet claws, "She told me that you had long carried a secret longing, a hope that you feared could never be answered. She asked me if it was indeed hopeless, and proposed something new, between the three of us."

This now is not the afore-planned speech, which had been more than a little terrible, and had included a metaphor about trees and winding vines. He has always been a mediocre poet, after all— but he has found his feet in this conversation, and forges ahead with his hands clasped behind his back, still tense despite it all, awaiting a real answer.

"It is not hopeless, falon. But I would hear from you, what you want. Having only just regained your friendship, I would not casually discard it. But I..." The pause comes then, sincerity giving way to vulnerability, and Solas stumbles at the threshold, as he so often does, "...I care for you, and when I allow myself to love, I do so with all that I am. But I may lie, I may distance myself, I can be cruel, and prideful, and vicious. I am... difficult, as you know. I am not a safe person to love. Tell me you wish for things to be as they are."
goethbeforethefall: (grit your teeth let go your shell)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-05-14 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
It should have hurt, truly, the assumption in that phrase: that it would be lesser, and transactional. But Solas can see the fangs for what they are: a defense, desperate and fearful. The truth came first: Felassan loved him, not as a soldier loves a king, nor indeed as a dog its master.

Because Felassan would betray him. Had. This was not a blind thing, with no limit, no end. As with Mythal, there could come a time that Solas lost his love, and his loyalty. Where that threshold stood, it was Solas' to step over it, or not, and reap the consequences; he saw that now.

"Indeed, I do not. Although, if you truly believed I would offer such a thing as the price of any service, as a Master overlording his servant, you would never have followed me in the first place," He replies, smoothly assured. He has cornered the prey now, and Felassan's lean is its own admission of that fact; Solas comes closer, and closer still, "I do not ask that you follow me now. Instead I am asking you, if you will stand alongside me. If that is what you wish."

He has always been the taller of the two. But he waits, a little too near, waiting, watching, looking for the first time with new eyes and seeing a new truth. It is entirely intoxicating, and yet his smile falters in the face of that stubborn nonchalance. No.

No, it had been thousands of years, and Felassan had said nothing, done nothing, and broken from him in the end. If he had ever wished to make more of it than silence and private fantasy, he had had more than ample opportunity. Solas was mistaken to hope.

"I apologize. I should not have pushed you. I thought it must change everything, to understand now..." It was not even that Beleth had been wrong, after all. And if they should be happy together, when he was not present, then it was good: she deserved every happiness in the world, with or without him. And Felassan was a very great joy, indeed; if he could not bear Solas' presence in such matters, then it was only reasonable. He steps back, then lowering his head slightly, watching Felassan as he does, as if he is not certain he will get another chance, "...But I have overstepped."

"I will not trouble you further. I am sorry to have caused you yet more grief."
goethbeforethefall: (paint my spirit gold)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-05-14 05:02 am (UTC)(link)
Solas is


Surprised. He had thought himself so wise, so willing to understand. He knows his friend, thought he knew, but after so long he finds that was has grown between them has grown down and through, and deeper than he might have imagined. He is

Being pulled down, made to bend, to change his ways, his stoic face, the memory of what it is to be seized by his shirt, the dream of a kiss, barely-imagined, and he is

Solas leans back, just a moment, staring at Felassan wonderingly, certain and then uncertain, and then certain again but of one thing only. Yes. This is love, no different than before; what else could motivate him to trust someone so deeply as he did Felassan, what else could motivate him to remain so loyal, for so long, in the service of the man who had broken the world. What else could it be, shining fearful and courageous and defiant in Felassan's wicked eyes.

It changed nothing. It changed... everything.

He counters the harshness of Felassan's grip with his own, more gentle and no less fervent, pressing Felassan back, deeper, more passionately. He feels rather than sees the tree come into his back, the Fade nothing loathe to facilitate their passion, and— Oh, had he meant to go this far? Had he known what it would be like, to feel that ancient devotion rise in ardor under lips and teeth, to drink it down?

Solas is breathing a little harder, when he remembers that they should wait. That as intoxicating as this is, it is not the same as agreement, or conversation.

Oh, but he longs.

"We... should meet again, outside the Fade. Will you come home to us, ma'nehn?"
arlathvhen: (16)

[personal profile] arlathvhen 2025-05-15 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
The first thing that had happened upon Solas awaking was, of course, him being impatiently debriefed by Beleth's worried, pointed questions. Which, of course, Solas managed gamely, even amidst Beleth's huffs and pointed prods in the cheek when it could have all gone so terribly wrong. But it hadn't gone wrong, and once Solas has survived getting poked and questioned, there is elation, and embracing, and other pleasant distractions, to celebrate it.

Then, there is the waiting.

Beleth is rarely described as impatient. She waited ten years for Solas, which might be short to some people, but felt like several lifetimes to her. This wait is nothing compared to that, particularly when she's been given surety of the ending, but it still inspires an almost uncharacteristic restlessness. Sleep makes it easier, but she's keyed up enough that she's already awake, hair done, makeup expertly applied, clothing... well, the clothing is a simple shift and robe still, because. Well.

Because.

Because, when Felassan makes his presence known, Beleth can appear at the doorway to the kitchen, hand on the frame, and her robe is artistically draped to make sure that one freckled shoulder is visible, in a way that she definitely hadn't made sure to engineer for his arrival. Felassan has always been handsome, but something about him seemed to shine even more than usual -- He looked almost like one of the ancient elvhen murals come to life, the sun shining at his back, glinting through his hair, his smile as infuriating as ever.

She'd hoped to school her face into something a little more smooth and suave, but at the sight of him, her face brightens into a brilliant, joyful smile. It's only somewhat diminished by the smug look that follows on its heels.

"I told you so."

It's deserved, she's quite sure. And what's also deserved is what she had wanted to do on that rooftop, and had, as usual, managed to go about achieving that desire: Before Felassan could have a chance to sass her, she strode forward, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him down into a hungry kiss.
goethbeforethefall: (blue lips blue veins)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-05-15 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
"Vhenan is rarely wrong," Solas interjects, from the doorway, his smooth voice cutting low across the tableau presented so enticingly before him, "You may come to terms with it, eventually."

Solas should know: he keeps trying to know better than her, and each time he finds himself again the same position of being forced to reckon with her power. Sometimes for the worse, and sometimes... very much for the better.

But he does not seem to be upset.

"Enjoying yourselves?" He asks, every bit as much as if this were some casual thing, picking flowers by the roadside, or walking the streets on market-day. Solas holds himself slightly aloof, appearing nearly unaffected, but his eyes are soft, and his expression reserved; those who do not know him might call it cold, but Solas is smiling, in his quiet, uncertain way.

It is good. It is good, to see them together, like this. Dare he hope for an invitation?
Edited 2025-05-15 04:52 (UTC)
arlathvhen: (26)

[personal profile] arlathvhen 2025-05-16 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
Beleth protests neither her relocation nor the flower -- though the move makes her wonder if he had in mind what he had considered Solas and Beleth doing to the dining room table. Not that she'd be opposed (nor would it be the first time the dining table had witnessed such an event), but it felt polite to at least wait for Solas --

Ah, there he was.

She turns to Solas, adjusting the flower in her hair (and trying to subtly wipe some of the wet from her very carefully styled hair, thanks) as she flashes him a winsome, pleased smile -- trying not to look too smug. "True -- you will be right, eventually, Felassan. I have full faith in you." Then she hooks her leg around his waist, and lifts her hand, reaching for Solas.

"Will you just stand there, vhenan, or will you join us?"
goethbeforethefall: (callous intellect a boon to pride)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-05-20 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
His approach is measured; he isn't exactly nervous, after all, only it is so new. Vhenan is easy to love, the rift between them closer to healed than it has ever been. Felassan's revelation is less certain ground; he is sure, very sure, of his own feelings, but to know how they fit together...

But he is being given an order, and Solas complies willingly, taking her hand as he does so. The flower is a gesture as cheeky and ordinary as ever Felassan has been, both a return to ancient form and in this new context a deliciously reframed invitation. He glances at Beleth, a warning and a confirmation all in one; something akin to asking permission, though he is not.

He catches Felassan's hand, as it retreats, and when his friend turns back from delivering his joke, Solas kisses him, sweet and soft and tender, and then lingers in the moment just long enough to make of it an invitation. His eyes flick over to Beleth again, to gauge her reaction, and to invite her in.
arlathvhen: (16)

[personal profile] arlathvhen 2025-05-21 06:28 am (UTC)(link)
She laughs at Felassan's aside, even as she watches him put the flower behind Solas' ear. "I still pride myself on my efficiency." Mirroring what she had said, then, as well. At Solas' glance to her, she nods, though he's already aware that she's quite okay with it. Still, it's appreciated, in case she had suddenly gotten cold feet about it all.

She hasn't, of course. As Solas leans in, Beleth lowers the leg she had hooked Felassan with, so that instead she can slip her arms around him from the side, the hand towards his front slipping under his shirt, and her lips going to his neck -- easier to reach, now that she's been kindly given the boost of the dining room table.

It's only once she feels Felassan stuck quite securely between the two of them that she speaks again, lips brushing his skin. "Though I could blame both of you, as well. How could I resist falling for the most fascinating men I've ever met?" Which is, in her opinion, far more important than being attractive or charismatic. They both drew her in by being interesting -- two different flavors of it.

Solas' keen mind and eager willingness to share with her the world that he knew. His kindness, even when it was killing him, the way that he interacted with the Fade and spirits, so alien to her. Felassan's sly tongue, steadfast loyalty. Utter strangeness, and carelessness to how people felt about it. They were both unlike any man that walked Thedas before, or after.

And they both saw fit to call her -- her, born a mortal, a simple Dalish Hunter -- theirs.
goethbeforethefall: (paint my spirit gold)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-06-18 05:06 am (UTC)(link)
"It will change little," Solas acknowledges, which is no vote either for nor against the important work of laying down the foundation of their triumvirate, "She is my heart. Your dedication to me is above reproach, after so many centuries. If truly you have felt this way for so long..."

This way being, of course, as difficult to define as any emotion can be. Love? Yes, but in what manner? Lust? That much is apparant. Solas' hand splays obediently over Felassan's heart, and he keeps it there a moment, feeling the warm, living weight of him, the strength beneath the thin barrier of his shirt. He allows himself the liberty to touch, hand sliding almost carelessly to one side, over muscle, nipple, the delicate curve of his collabone, and further, up the slim, promising line of shoulder and neck. Solas threads his fingers into Felassan's hair in fascination, undoing the careful ties, and brushing his thumb across the point of his ear.

And even now, Beleth's clever hands are at work, and Solas bends his head to press a kiss against her brow. Oh, she is beautiful and wise! It is agony to wait.

"Ar lath ma," He says, meaning them both, "I am a fool, and so often blind; Beleth had already kissed me twice before I ever realized her feelings for me were more than teasing flirtation. But we have endured thusfar, and I am committed."
arlathvhen: (40)

[personal profile] arlathvhen 2025-06-21 01:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Beleth manages to start up a pout at young one, a very good one. It would have been a really devastating pout, if Felassan hadn't starting kissing her, moving his hand up her leg, his touch leaving her skin burning and wanting. Her mouth opens, and she would've had quite a clever comeback, really, but the words are swallowed in the kisses, and she decides that she has no excuse and doesn't need one, and Felassan can call her whatever he wants, if he keeps kissing her breathless like that.

And then he stops kissing her, and now she really is going to pout, only narrowly saved from it by having to stop to mull over his words. And now Solas is kissing her brow, and she tilts her head up to him, to get some proper kisses.

"I have said what I wished to -- I believe I have made all my thoughts clear. If you two need to talk, or if you have questions for me, I will of course accommodate." She reaches up to graze her hand against Solas' face, eyes turned to Felassan. "Though I fear I might need direction when it comes to... positioning. And whatnot." She glances aside, clears her throat. One day she'll discuss such things more easily (though her mood is quickly making the topic more enthusiastic). "I'm not inexperienced, but it has always been limited to figuring out... ah, configurations for two bodies."

There is, of course, the most obvious, but that seems a bit daunting, at the moment. She assumes anyone attempting it usually works up to the task, though.

And speaking of which. She'll reach for Solas' face, to give him another hard kiss. "But I place myself and my trust in both of your capable hands."
goethbeforethefall: (paint my spirit gold)

[personal profile] goethbeforethefall 2025-06-26 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
Solas is at first preoccupied with the enjoyment of Beleth's mouth. When Felassan begins undressing, he allows himself to be distracted by it and— the fang. For a moment, a question rises into his eyes, and his mouth opens to ask, but then Felassan is pushing at the hem of his robes and Solas decides that the more vital task is to shed his own shirt and pull Felassan in with both hands and feel the warm weight of his body in Solas' arms as they kiss.

Time enough for questions later. For now, it was enough to indulge in the fantasy thus provided.

And Solas too, is not unchanged. In ancient days he took great pride in his body, in keeping it clean of scar and blemish, and was often teased for the habit. But for years before he regained his strength, he was no more than an ordinary mage, with an ordinary mage's power to heal, and the marks of modern Thedas are clear on him. Here, the puckered scar, where Dalish arrows tried to take his life. There, where lyrium dragonfire had caught in his robes, snuffed out quickly, but not quickly-enough to save the patch of skin along his side and back, now permanently a different texture, the scar a reddened reminder of Corypheus' agency. Smaller things, scrapes, cuts, places where a too-oft scratched insect bite had left a new spot, like an over-large freckle, discolored... And there were freckles as well.

"As you say, Ma'nehn," Submitting himself thus to inspection, he reaches for Beleth to give Felassan a moment, "Peace, my heart. You will not find it so difficult. You are wanted here, and loved; anything you choose to do will be welcomed."
arlathvhen: (16)

[personal profile] arlathvhen 2025-07-02 05:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Most would consider Beleth a patient person -- at least for mortals. Felassan would undoubtedly win the prize, but she's spent a decent chunk of her limited life span plotting, planning and placing pieces and people. But there are particular situations where her patience flees, and if it weren't already on its way out the door, Felassan's clever hands helping her out of her robe and shift would chase it away entirely.

And she has her own scars. There are, of course, the jagged lightning scars that start where her left arm ends, racing up the arm and across the chest. But plenty of other scars join it, though none quite overshadow the anchor's mark. Thedas can be a harsh world for anyone, and Beleth was given a more violent life than most.

There are less violent marks across her skin -- the freckles that cross her cheeks trail down her shoulders, along her back.

But she's not thinking about that right now, nor any marks on any of them. Not with Felassan and Solas' hands both upon her. Quite near any thoughts she could claim have left along with her patience, and are promptly replaced by growing desire. What she wants? It's hard to state a specific thing -- the two of them, touching and kissing, her and each other, sensations and senses. She manages to gather enough of herself to decide one thing.

"I think you have been quite patient enough, Ma'atisha. The time for it is gone." She gives Solas another kissing, and a quick nip of his bottom lip, before she pulls away, giving him a knowing smile. Then she turns to Felassan. Her peace, waiting so long, and willing to wait longer, staring up at the sky and ready to let his desires simply sit there with him. Well, no longer.

Her hands go to cup his face, then she kisses him, hard and fast, hands trailing down his chest, down and down, until she reaches his hips, fingers of both hands dancing across skin, slowly growing closer together, meeting in the middle. And there, the careful, agile hands of an archer show their dexterity.