[ Athénaïs is right; Felassan doesn't interfere. The curious cock of his head doesn't change, though it does pivot so he's watching her as much as Solas, and he doesn't tense out of his unconcerned slouch on the bench or adjust his loose and unready hold on his staff. But maybe he would lose some points with her, nonetheless, if she knew how near a thing it is. How dependent on his confidence that if she were going to hurt Solas — physically, and setting aside whether the question of whether hurting his pride is in fact wounding his very essence — she would have at least done less to save him.
Even with that confidence, beneath the outward insouciance he is coiled and ready, albeit more likely to spring forward with a barrier for whomever seems most in need of one at any given moment than with a lightning bolt. (It doesn't occur to him that it might be pathetic, under the circumstances, to not want Solas hurt. Because it isn't. No one who's ever maintained a friendship for fewer than five thousand years plus an apocalypse one of them caused is allowed to tell him that it is.) In this very short time he has already learned not to rely too heavily on what he might expect of Athénaïs, who began their acquaintance wearing his robe and dropping world-shattering facts like they were nothing, but if he had tried to predict what she meant to do —
It would not have been this.
The moment he understands what she's done, his lazily placid observer act breaks just enough for a snort of laughter, quickly smothered, smile hidden behind a raising fist as if it might have only been a cough. ]
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Even with that confidence, beneath the outward insouciance he is coiled and ready, albeit more likely to spring forward with a barrier for whomever seems most in need of one at any given moment than with a lightning bolt. (It doesn't occur to him that it might be pathetic, under the circumstances, to not want Solas hurt. Because it isn't. No one who's ever maintained a friendship for fewer than five thousand years plus an apocalypse one of them caused is allowed to tell him that it is.) In this very short time he has already learned not to rely too heavily on what he might expect of Athénaïs, who began their acquaintance wearing his robe and dropping world-shattering facts like they were nothing, but if he had tried to predict what she meant to do —
It would not have been this.
The moment he understands what she's done, his lazily placid observer act breaks just enough for a snort of laughter, quickly smothered, smile hidden behind a raising fist as if it might have only been a cough. ]