[ — 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
[ — 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.
no subject
[ 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.