[ He’s feeling better. Var lath vir suledin. There’s still something subdued and ruminative beneath his bolstered humor, keeping it quiet; he is still a bastard with things to consider, and he won’t be happy until he and Beleth reach some kind of detente.
But he’s willing to be annoying again, so clearly nature is healing. ]
— you have those sad eyes and that sensitive artist’s heart. Not to mention the broad shoulders, the careful hands, the voice, the great strength and the willingness to set it aside and be weak for someone…
[ Where’d his point go. It’s around here somewhere. ]
[ No more apologies. In the face of these crimes Solas didn't kill him for, but someone somewhere certainly would have been within their rights to, the time for joking about it has come. ]
— a few times. We must account for the sad eyes and the sensitive heart, so let's say five times is the absolute limit.
[ He does have more self-respect than that, really. ]
The Dalish clan you met when you woke up, what were they like?
[Huff! But no, that's just a lie, outright. Still, he ruminates on the story for a moment or two; how circumspect to be. He had given Beleth little detail, knowing it could only bring her distress, and Rook less than that— she deserved nothing from him, and it was easy to pretend to be a recalcitrant.
But Felassan knows him better.]
I did not have much chance to actually know them. I greeted them in Elvhen, and they responded in kind. They deferred to their Keeper, and I was invited to join their fire. When I introduced myself, they initially believed it to be a joke.
...When I insisted otherwise, their good humor, eventually, wore off, and they warned me that it was not wise to impersonate the Dread Wolf. Of course, I was doing no such thing.
But by then, it was far too late; I was surrounded, and so I was forced to run. I still do not know if they truly understood that I was not mocking them, that they truly did host Fen'Harel at their camp. It is likely, if they survived, that they now know the name 'Solas' and associate it with an elf of my physical description... But if they remember our encounter, that I cannot say. It was a rude awakening.
[ Of course Felassan hates the thought of him alone, still weak, and having his earnest attempt to find allies in this strange and quiet world violently rebuffed... But he also snorts something near enough to a laugh, albeit less merry than it could be or will be after Beleth sees fit to kiss him again. ]
However many worlds exist, you have to be the worst god of lies in any of them.
[He does not like being alone in the house! It does not even feel safe, not quite, to take a nap. Which is a shame, because you make him so damn tired sometimes.]
Have you any more questions about my dealings with the Dalish?
I have spoken with various Dalish elves in more recent years, but I never revisited that clan, nor any other. It is my understanding that the Dalish prefer me to keep my distance—
[Which is to say, he is unwilling to put himself at their mercy on a whim. Even if they could no longer pose a meaningful threat to him, nobody likes being attacked. And Solas has never been the type to enjoy lording his power over others.]
I know where I am not wanted. The inheritors of Elvhenan have been thorough in their rejection of me, with only a few notable exceptions.
[ — but his breezily judgmental conclusion, there’s one ancient elvhen artifact they don’t want to collect, catches and dies in his throat as he remembers the desolate silence and the set of Beleth’s shoulders when she walked away from him.
Shit, et cetera.
He abandons the sentence entirely. ]
Did they have one of those statues of you? The little one that they turn away from the camp?
[Solas divines the joke before it can happen; he'd walked right into it, after all. But he's surprised when Felassan lets it go unsaid. He must be truly worried. And so, Solas replies, gently:]
I believe you will find, that at least one representative of the Dalish did indeed collect me.
[At great difficulty, no less. But enough of that.]
They did. A howling wolf, his teeth full of moss. Initially, I thought of it as a promising sign; no one who seemed to wish for a Wolf to guard their camp could be against me. More the fool, I.
Yes. He is. And since it's Solas, and after however many thousand years words ought to be unnecessary now and then, he can't even mind. The sound he makes in his throat is mostly amused, with only a hint of grudging don't coddle me around the edges. ]
For what it's worth, I don't know that any given clan would be overly thrilled if Elgar'nan or Falon'din sat down at their fire, either.
[As if Elgar'nan would ever sit down beside a simply campfire and share a meal. Arrogant ass. But it's an amusingly bizarre idea: his height, and the strange armor he favored, squatting down on the bare ground next to Dalish children and ink-faced old men.]
You know them better. The Dalish. I... regret my arrogance, towards them, no less than you. I suppose that's fate, that the punishment for our lack of perspective is to love someone for whom those we once derided, are so cherished.
[ He regrets a few things. Maybe several things. But nothing quite so much right now as he regrets hurting Beleth, for whom he'd let a new Dalish Keeper inform him he's mistaken about his own life and a fool for it every day for the rest of eternity. He'd say of course, hahren every time, if she asked. ]
I stole a few of those Fen'Harel statues. There's a row of them now next to a little waterfall in the foothills, unless someone came along behind me and stole them from there.
If I am ever able to go, you should take me there.
[It is those small places of secret knowledge that delight Solas the most, after all. But their work is in the Fade and to the other side is where Solas is bound— until the Blight is soothed and the Veil steadied and the mortals aged enough past their anger to forgive him.
Or to have died in the meanwhile, he supposes.]
Goodnight, ma'nehn. If you have need of me, dream on that. I will be here.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ He’s feeling better. Var lath vir suledin. There’s still something subdued and ruminative beneath his bolstered humor, keeping it quiet; he is still a bastard with things to consider, and he won’t be happy until he and Beleth reach some kind of detente.
But he’s willing to be annoying again, so clearly nature is healing. ]
— you have those sad eyes and that sensitive artist’s heart. Not to mention the broad shoulders, the careful hands, the voice, the great strength and the willingness to set it aside and be weak for someone…
[ Where’d his point go. It’s around here somewhere. ]
Who could possibly give you up?
Aside from me, of course. I could.
[ Please ignore evidence. ]
no subject
[You're turning this into a flattery session, you ridiculous turkey?]
My voice. Sensiti— Really?
[You are such a brat.]
You are completely free to leave at any time, of course.
[Like right now, for example.]
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Music to his ears. ]
Perhaps if you kill me again —
[ No more apologies. In the face of these crimes Solas didn't kill him for, but someone somewhere certainly would have been within their rights to, the time for joking about it has come. ]
— a few times. We must account for the sad eyes and the sensitive heart, so let's say five times is the absolute limit.
[ He does have more self-respect than that, really. ]
The Dalish clan you met when you woke up, what were they like?
no subject
[Huff! But no, that's just a lie, outright. Still, he ruminates on the story for a moment or two; how circumspect to be. He had given Beleth little detail, knowing it could only bring her distress, and Rook less than that— she deserved nothing from him, and it was easy to pretend to be a recalcitrant.
But Felassan knows him better.]
I did not have much chance to actually know them. I greeted them in Elvhen, and they responded in kind. They deferred to their Keeper, and I was invited to join their fire. When I introduced myself, they initially believed it to be a joke.
...When I insisted otherwise, their good humor, eventually, wore off, and they warned me that it was not wise to impersonate the Dread Wolf. Of course, I was doing no such thing.
But by then, it was far too late; I was surrounded, and so I was forced to run. I still do not know if they truly understood that I was not mocking them, that they truly did host Fen'Harel at their camp. It is likely, if they survived, that they now know the name 'Solas' and associate it with an elf of my physical description... But if they remember our encounter, that I cannot say. It was a rude awakening.
no subject
However many worlds exist, you have to be the worst god of lies in any of them.
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[A brief, but significant pause.]
Unlike some.
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no subject
[He does not like being alone in the house! It does not even feel safe, not quite, to take a nap. Which is a shame, because you make him so damn tired sometimes.]
Have you any more questions about my dealings with the Dalish?
no subject
Did you try again, after the first time?
no subject
No.
I have spoken with various Dalish elves in more recent years, but I never revisited that clan, nor any other. It is my understanding that the Dalish prefer me to keep my distance—
[Which is to say, he is unwilling to put himself at their mercy on a whim. Even if they could no longer pose a meaningful threat to him, nobody likes being attacked. And Solas has never been the type to enjoy lording his power over others.]
I know where I am not wanted. The inheritors of Elvhenan have been thorough in their rejection of me, with only a few notable exceptions.
no subject
[ — but his breezily judgmental conclusion, there’s one ancient elvhen artifact they don’t want to collect, catches and dies in his throat as he remembers the desolate silence and the set of Beleth’s shoulders when she walked away from him.
Shit, et cetera.
He abandons the sentence entirely. ]
Did they have one of those statues of you? The little one that they turn away from the camp?
no subject
I believe you will find, that at least one representative of the Dalish did indeed collect me.
[At great difficulty, no less. But enough of that.]
They did. A howling wolf, his teeth full of moss. Initially, I thought of it as a promising sign; no one who seemed to wish for a Wolf to guard their camp could be against me. More the fool, I.
no subject
Yes. He is. And since it's Solas, and after however many thousand years words ought to be unnecessary now and then, he can't even mind. The sound he makes in his throat is mostly amused, with only a hint of grudging don't coddle me around the edges. ]
For what it's worth, I don't know that any given clan would be overly thrilled if Elgar'nan or Falon'din sat down at their fire, either.
no subject
[As if Elgar'nan would ever sit down beside a simply campfire and share a meal. Arrogant ass. But it's an amusingly bizarre idea: his height, and the strange armor he favored, squatting down on the bare ground next to Dalish children and ink-faced old men.]
You know them better. The Dalish. I... regret my arrogance, towards them, no less than you. I suppose that's fate, that the punishment for our lack of perspective is to love someone for whom those we once derided, are so cherished.
no subject
[ He regrets a few things. Maybe several things. But nothing quite so much right now as he regrets hurting Beleth, for whom he'd let a new Dalish Keeper inform him he's mistaken about his own life and a fool for it every day for the rest of eternity. He'd say of course, hahren every time, if she asked. ]
I stole a few of those Fen'Harel statues. There's a row of them now next to a little waterfall in the foothills, unless someone came along behind me and stole them from there.
no subject
[It is those small places of secret knowledge that delight Solas the most, after all. But their work is in the Fade and to the other side is where Solas is bound— until the Blight is soothed and the Veil steadied and the mortals aged enough past their anger to forgive him.
Or to have died in the meanwhile, he supposes.]
Goodnight, ma'nehn. If you have need of me, dream on that. I will be here.
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[ If they get to talk as though saving him from a sealed fate is certain, he gets to do the same thing. ]
Ma serannas, fenor, and try not to mope. She will be home soon.