garrulously | canon threads

( sometimes dalish holidays line up with those of andrastians; for good or for ill. the one that falls on the winter solstice is close enough to a major andrastian feast that elera is rather suspicious about the timing -- did andraste really feel the presence of the maker on a cold winter's night in fereldin? she knows that she wouldn't be caught dead wandering the woods without furs if that were the case.

regardless, she is making an effort to observe the dalish holiday -- perhaps obnoxiously so, out of some small amount of spite for her advisors and their plans for a grand feast. which means getting gifts for her 'inner circle', as it was coming to be known. most she'd already found something for, small trinkets or favors done for them where she could.

one person, however, was proving to be far more difficult. what did you get, for the man who seemed to want nothing? she doesn't have time to ask him in person, not today at least, so she leaves him a note among his things -- he'll know how to return it. )

The solstice holiday -- do you celebrate at all, Solas? And, say that someone wanted to give you a gift that wasn't frilly cakes. Would you happen to have any suggestions?

[ When he sees an odd paper tucked between the pages of his current book, he knows who left it. Only two members of the Inquisition dared to toy with his belongings and the second would have left far more of a mess.

He reads the note with a small smile, folding it carefully when he is done before finding a scrap of paper for his own. The holiday was around the same as one from Arlathan, changed over the years, but somehow the heart of it had remained the same. One of the few things to have survived and he is grateful a celebration has made it through the times.

He pens a note of his own and leaves it wedged in the crack of her door, to flutter to the ground when she opens it next. ]

That would depend entirely on who is asking. If the requestor happened to be our fair Inquisitor, I would say I do partake of such a celebration. Were you considering having your own?

[ He does not, however, include any gift ideas. ]

( if she were to begin to keep a small collection of these notes, would anyone blame her? she feels childish and silly --
they aren't exactly lovers in the traditional sense, sending letters across thedas in an attempt to keep affection alive. but she still places the note in a drawer, beneath smaller trinkets from her time as herald and inquisitor. things she finds are precious to her, things she wants to keep safe.

solas is, however, a cheat in that he completely manages to weasel out of giving her a solid answer. damn him.

this note she leaves tucked away with his paints. )

Just 'fair', vhenan? I fear I must be spending too much time away from you if that's the only word that comes to mind. But yes, I was. I think some of our number would enjoy the reminder that it isn't just about the shemlen.

You still haven't answered my question.

[ If she is silly then he is foolish for entertaining this love of theirs. He has his own collection of notes he keeps tucked away, hidden from sight despite the public nature of the rotunda. It was a game he often had to play with how many came in and out, seeking others or the library above.

When he leaves his next note, he sneaks into her quarters when she is out--likely gathering more elfroot--and leaves it folded to stand atop her mantlepiece. Her name is carefully written on the front in a flourish and looking very elvish. ]

That is because I would prefer to be surprised. I am curious as to what you think suitable.

Though I worry. How will the humans survive? It may be the first time they have been faced with the holiday not centered entirely around them.

( her relationship with elfroot is private, thank you very much. she doesn't notice the note until later that evening, kept from her quarters by politics and orlesians. this time not together, thankfully -- there's only so much of that she can take before she goes absolutely mad.

the flourish doesn't escape her, a finger tracing the line of ink as she smiles. far, far too fondly. so she gathers up some paper and a quill and sets about writing to him in return. this time, however, it is in elvish. it takes her five tries to get it legible, but she's proud of the result.

which she leaves in the blanket she presumes he sleeps under in the rotunda, a corner sticking out. )

Nothing is suitable for the man who is content to carry all that he owns in a pack. I'd hate to weigh you down unnecessarily, you understand, so it must be something of use to you.

It's a wonder they've managed to survive in the Inquisition this long, what with the constant reminder that there are other races in Thedas sitting upon a throne. I'll tell the infirmary to keep an eye out and treat anyone who faints of shock during the event. We can't have them think poorly of us, after all.

Edited 2017-11-13 05:43 (UTC)

[ It's when he retires that he finds hers and he curls up beneath his blanket before he opens it to read. Elvhen? He cannot imagine how long that took her to compose. Would it be fair to return it in kind? No, not really, but he fully intends to.

The urge strikes him there and he shifts his blanket aside to find his paper and quill once more. He only needs one attempt for his. ]

You are far too kind, heart. They do not deserve you. [ Written in such a way to imply he means that genuinely and teasingly. ]

Anything you gifted me would be treasured though you are correct I would prefer something I could easily travel with.

[ When he finishes it, he folds it into the shape of a flower to hide in one of the small pots of plants she keeps in her room. ]

( elera almost feels bad unfolding this particular letter, and when she does it's with the intent on memorizing how it all comes together so she can refold it all once she's read it. who is she to ruin art? her fingers trace the elvhen, even as she sighs -- it will take time to read it, and she cannot think of keeping herself from responding quickly in order to return it in kind.

so in the trade tongue is her response, however reluctantly. she'll cherish the words, the way his quill perfectly matches the soft lines of the language. one day she'll find out how he learned it so fluently, so perfectly. one day.

this note she folds so that it drifts gently down to him, like a feather, from where she lets it fall on the third floor. if he is quick, he can catch a glimpse of a face wearing an expression that is far too besotted for its own good before she goes to talk to leliana. )

Maybe, but they hardly deserve the alternative. I'm not sure I believe in anything but my exceptional bad luck, no matter how many times they say that they think I am blessed by their Maker, but I wouldn't want them subjected to what Corypheus had planned.

( far too serious for what she'd started to consider flirtatious notes. best to lighten the mood. )

A new bag? Fresh herbs to speed your way into the Fade. You are impossible to shop for, my love, just as you are impossible as a whole on more than one occasion. Fear not, however, I won't hold it against you.

[ He's reading when the letter comes drifting down to him. It's the movement that catches his attention, his brows furrowing as he looks up and--

Ah. The briefest sighting of her confirms it and he catches the note gentle. It was a game between them at this point, a way to tease the other between all else they had to do. Her attention was always taken elsewhere, diverted. They would need to spend time together soon, but until then this would have to suffice.

There's some disappointment when he sees that the note has been returned in common though that explains the prompt return. He reverts back to it as well though his penmanship could not be mistaken for anything except 'elfy.' This note is folded more simply and hidden beneath a teacup being served on a tray along with the rest of a meal being brought to her room. No doubt working far more than she should be. ]

No, it is a fate no one deserves. We will put an end to him.

[ One he had not intended when he had started all of this. A mistake on his part though he tries to match her change in tone instead of dwelling. ]

If you chose to gift them to me, I would find your words and presence enough, vhenan. You need not do more.

( it would have to be enough to sustain them. how odd the ways this world worked, to give her someone to love during a time where she is not fully capable of enjoying it. perhaps once this is all done -- they do not talk of the future. not because she thinks this is only a casual thing, meant for a short time before they part and go on their own separate ways. for he called her vhenan, and she called him ma'ar lath; and it seemed silly to rest so much on simple words of affection, but solas was a simple man not prone to indulging if he did not mean it.

but they do not talk of the future, so elera says nothing about it. although she does have to give him credit for pulling aside the servants in order to slip her this note. it brightens up an afternoon that promises to be full of paperwork and complaints.

she is rapidly running out of places to hide them, and therefore includes this one tucked away in his bag so that he might find it out on a mission, whether by her side or far away from her. )

You mistake need with want. I need not do more, but I wish to. That's what makes it a gift, Solas. But I shall work at making such a simple request happen anyway, seeing as we've spent so much time apart these days.

Shall I tell you what I miss the most?

[ The paper falls out of his belongings when he begins sifting through his bag for rations. He had little need to eat much since waking as his body grew used to this world once more, but the need was still there, nagging at him every so often. Part of him had wondered if his note had been the last in their chain as the time grew between his and this one.

That they were out wandering the wilds together made it all the sweeter. He glances over at her across the campfire and takes his time unfolding it and reading, purposeful in his movements. Once finished, he tucked it away in his bag and retrieved what little he had to write with while out here.

This note would be far less neat than the others given the nature of their traveling, but he doubts she'll mind. He does take his time, sketching a rough outline of her figure as she appears across from him to accompany the note. It is one he will leave beside her to wake to in the morning. ]

Beyond my grim, fatalistic approach to the world?

I would never ask that you still your tongue. If you have words you wish to share then I would gladly read them.

( his eating habits haven't escaped elera, but she is content to simply steal the food he snacks on when she has the chance -- not enough to make him have nothing to eat, of course, but to tease with fondness in her eyes. her own lips twitch up when he looks her way, eyes trained on him as he reads and writes.

it doesn't matter to her how neat or messy his words are, the fact that she has them at all means the world to her. which is why, when she wakes and finds one waiting there for her, she can't help but smile softly to herself. she has nothing pressing to do in the morning, so she fetches her writing supplies for a return letter.

which she slips into his vest when she sees him, her hands coming to rest on his chest briefly as they greet each other. elera is no master of slight of hand -- but she has no need of subtlety when it comes to him. )

You say that if I don't find it terribly attractive. I'm not sure what that says about my taste, however.

It's your voice I miss first. The way you make words bend to you, in common or in elvish; you are their master, and they do not rule you. When you talk I feel as if I am adrift, vowels washing over me, but I do not drown. I doubt very much you'd let me, even if I wanted to. The way your mouth forms the syllables of my name -- I miss that, too.

[ Her touch has him smiling and he reaches to let his fingertips graze her palms as she pulls away. But he has a note to read, more of their game that he is coming to enjoy. Being around her made him feel like a foolish young man once more, eager to fall into his emotions rather than carefully control them.

He makes no attempt to hide the way his smile grows as he reads. There is no small amount of pride in himself, but it is different to hear it from her. His fingers brush over her words as if committing them to memory.

During their next pause when she's off refilling their waterskins, he manages to write his next note this time writing in elvhen. When she returns, he's holding it out for her to take, giving her a small smile and letting her name roll off his tongue, ] Elera.

I would enjoy hearing more of it from your lips if you wished to learn. You have always been an eager student. Of all I have met during my travels and in the Inquisition, you are the most extraordinary. [ And there's emphasis there, speaking to his fondness and affection for her. Feelings he shouldn't be indulging in and yet here they were. ]

If you wish to hear me speak, all you must do is ask.

( far more direct this time, she thinks, when she sees him waiting with the letter. but then he says her name, and elera should never have given him such ammo to use against her. her lips part slightly, in a soft sound that only he can hear; damn him and damn herself for being so easily won over by just a voice.

well, a voice and flattery. his words burn in her chest, a bright fire of both fond affection and embers of desire. she is not so easily undone, however, and spends the night in her tend practicing her elvhen before she is satisfied with her response.

giving it to him is far more difficult, but he broke the unspoken rules of their game first. elera feels if she is allowed to bend them, and therefore presses it into his hand as she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth -- brief, lingering. and then throws him a small wave as she saunters off back towards the rest of their party.

and if there's a slight teasing sway to her hips as she does so, who can blame her? )

My answer will always be 'yes' to anything you can teach me. Although perhaps I shouldn't tell you so, and let you flatter me a bit more.

And here I thought you'd be content to speak without being asked, as no one can seem to get you to stop at times. ( a gentle tease, and her own fondness is evident in every curve of a letter -- elera might not know the intricacies of writing in elvhen, but it leaks through regardless. her fondness, her love, her passion and desire. ) Your voice isn't the only thing I miss, Solas, just the first. After the voice, I miss being able to watch your fingers as you work. Be it magic or reading, they catch my eyes -- long, graceful. Nothing you do with them is wasted; never have I known a man so purposeful with what he does with them.

[ That sound is worth breaking their rules. It combined with her expression at that very moment was something he would commit to memory.

When she approaches him the next day, he finds his own heart fluttering. The eyes of their companions were difficult to escape, he assumed they were watching as they often were and let them be damned if they are. A small smile finds its way to his lips as he watches her walk away, knowing it would not be the last he would see her. For now.

If she wished to see his fingers move then he would take care to compose his response when they were all gathered around the campfire. At least here he could pretend he was composing something else though the others had witnessed enough to know that wouldn't be the case. With poise and purpose, he crafted each line of elvhen knowing she would appreciate every last bit of it.

When he finishes, he meets her gaze and sets the folded note down beside him in an open invitation for her to join him. ]

If you would rather I speak to you like all others... [ As if he minced words when he spoke with her, he never kept his opinions private. But no, he preferred these private conversations they were having, at a time when it was impossible to obtain otherwise. ]

You level me with undeserved praise. There is more I could do with my hands if given the chance. [ Slight suggestion there that he damn well knows he shouldn't be toying with, but it was hard to resist. ] You should come watch me paint. I have been wanting a new subject of late and I could think of no better than you.

( she knows what he's doing, the way he works on a letter next to the fire -- while she might be conversing with the rest of her party, her eyes are drawn back to his hands, to the quill caught him, and the gestures she knows mean he's writing in elvhen rather than the runes of common. what she expects -- some clever plan to deliver it into her hands -- is not what she gets.

he is cheating, of course. but elera excuses herself from varric and dorian's conversation to take up the spot next to him, the paper heavy in her hands as she unfolds it. it takes longer than she wishes for her to read it -- not as fluent as she could, but better than before.

finishing, she doesn't reach for more paper -- instead she refolds it and slips it into her armor so she can keep it above her heart. )

I'm almost tempted to start with exploring everything you can do with your hands, Solas. ( that is a clear invitation that she doesn't expect him to follow up, said low and sultry in the twilight as she turns herself towards him, pressing in slightly to be more appealing. but she drops it as quickly as it comes up. ) For now, however, I'll be satisfied with being your subject of choice.

( if she had some artistic talent, she'd find him worthy of her's. but as it is she is a mage, and a leader, and very little else. so it will simply have to be enough to offer to model for him. )

[ Let them stare. Solas is more than happy to ignore their companions despite the knowing looks.

Her teasing and attempts to draw his attention mostly work. His gaze follows the lines of her lips down to her chest before returning to her eyes. An invitation he would have to reluctantly decline and the fact that they were not alone gave him reason enough to let that slide past him. ]

I am afraid I find my supplies wanting here. When we return to Skyhold and you are free? [ Because he would more than enjoy the chance to sketch or paint her, depending on how long she had to model.

And while he isn't accepting her invitation to do more, he does brush his hand against hers. ]

( no opinion elera has overheard in skyhold, no comment from any of her companions, could possibly make her rethink her choice. solas is fascinating, and elera would happily be content unwinding all that he is for years to come. how could she overlook this, this mystery of a man with a wealth of knowledge she feels she has never seen then end of? impossible.

so she dismisses them all, and turns her hand upwards to catch his fingers with her's. that he does not pick up on her invitation does not bother her. there is more to this between them than physical attraction. )

I will be sure to make time for you, Solas. My work has kept us apart for too long.

[ He takes her hand in his as if it were the most natural action in the world. The way her hand fit perfectly in his, the way her warmth seemed to reach his core--it was more than he could have asked for, more than he deserved.

He saddened their note exchange has ended for now though the promise of being allowed to paint her would tide him over until then. ]

As have my own, [ he says, unwilling to allow her to accept all the blame. ] We will have time when we return, my heart.

( it was a beautiful game while it lasted, and she will keep the notes until forced to part from them -- and even then they would have to fight her to take them from her. she squeezes his hand in reassurance and promise. how could she have fallen so quickly for him? she hadn't thought, when she left for the conclave, that her life could become like this. but she wouldn't exchange it for anything.

she wouldn't trade her relationship with him for anything, either. )

We will. ( that she can promise him. ) Even if I have to claw it from Josephine myself.

[ If only he knew whether her feelings for him would change if she were told the truth. It was a bridge he dare not even think of crossing, not now.

His thumb strokes along hers and he nods in agreement. ]

Your time is more valuable than dealing with squabbling nobility, [ he says firmly. ] The world burns around them and they have time to keep their attentions elsewhere.

( it is his downfall that he takes that chance away from her every day without telling her. but she knows nothing of the turmoil that lurks under his skin -- there is some great sadness that she knows lurks behind his eyes. cole has made that clear, and blackwall too when they reminisce about old battles. but she can do nothing to ease whatever hurt there is, and so she does not press for it, for any answer other than those he gives.

what she does do is lean against him if he will let her, her head resting on his shoulder even as her lips twitch up in amusement. )

They are just as much a part of this world as you or I, Solas. And I can't bring them to heel without making them feel as if I care about their petty squabbles. ( her eyes flutter shut, letting the moment wash over them. ) But I am grateful for the chance to escape it for an hour or two.

As I am aware, [ he returns with a small sigh. He leans his head against hers for the time being, in thought.

In so many ways both he and the Inquisition is fortunate that she was the one who bore the mark. It is a pain he did not want her to bear, one he had wanted in order to open his focus and wield it. That she had it and was able to command the respect that she did was something he admired greatly.

If anyone deserved moments of peace, it was her. He turns his head enough to kiss the top of her head and murmurs into her hair, ] I am here as you need me, vhenan.

( the calm that overtakes her at his acceptance of the small gesture of fondness is indescribable; it was something she needed in what felt like a whirlwind of demands. just a moment to bring herself some quiet, and his affirmation warms her in ways she doesn't think he understands.

she feels as if everyone else places her upon pedestals -- solas is no exception to that, not really. but she is not on it as inquisitor, as herald. she is simply elera lavellan, vhenan, to him, and yet he exalts her. it's flattering, it's humbling, it is what she wants. to be known as herself, and not anyone else. to have someone love and praise the parts of her that matter.

selfish, maybe, but she thinks she is allowed such a small thing. )

I shall always need you, ma'ar lath. But for tonight -- can I convince you to share my tent? ( not sex, no. she knows his boundaries there. but she has always felt comforted by his presence, and she would want nothing more in the moment than to spend the night pressed against him. )

[ Selfish, but he had felt similar longings. With the Inquisition, with her, he was simply Solas. A man who wandered and held an expertise that they so desperately needed. It was a part of a larger whole of why he felt he could not tell her the truth about him, of his other self. The mantle of the Dread Wolf was one he had temporarily shrugged off and he wanted to hold onto that for as long as he could before he was forced to step into that role.

Which brought him here, with her. Solas and Elera. That was all they had need to be when together. ]

You would need to do little to persuade me, [ he returns. He has as much need to be near her as she does of him. ]

That easily? And here I thought I needed to have an argument pre-crafted to convince you about the appeal of sharing body heat.

( an easy tease, but one that doesn't fully betray her joy at getting him to agree. for a night, for a moment, she could just pretend that she is only elera, and he is only solas, and that would be enough. it would always be enough, as simple as it was. but she's a simple woman, and he -- unassuming and plainly dressed -- must be a simple man.

although-- )

This still doesn't solve what I'm getting you for the holiday. You've been very unforthcoming.

notes & a holiday.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject