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loredrinker · 3 months ago

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Solas, Isolation and His Greatest Fear

As a spirit of Wisdom, Solas was connection itself - not physical, but connection to ideas, emotions, and existence. Spirits in the Fade are born from shared thought and feeling; they are communal by nature. Wisdom, in particular, does not just possess knowledge - it listens, gathers, synthesizes, and applies understanding to help others and guide action. This is why Mythal calls to him: she needs not just his knowledge, but his capacity for connection, counsel, and guidance.

But for a spirit turned mortal, life outside the Fade can be isolating when not actively choosing it's original purpose. It's why Solas urges Cole to never lose sight of who he is, to choose compassion as an act of will. By consciously reaffirming his nature, Cole stays anchored to his essence, preserving the purity of his spirit against the distortions of the physical world. Solas knows this because he himself failed to do the same. Over time, he drifted from his original essence, allowing pride, fear, and duty to erode his wisdom.

From the moment Solas chose a physical form, he began severing the natural connection that had once defined him, as did all the Evanuris. Over time, he accumulated knowledge, but lost the practice of true wisdom, because he lost the communal engagement that wisdom depends on. Wisdom’s purpose, at its core, is fulfilled in relation to others - and in isolation, it withers.

Over time, Mythal’s influence, the betrayals of the Evanuris, and the violence and trauma of war taught Solas to rely more on control, strategy, and force - not mutual understanding. He made decisions at every stage that moved him further from his original nature by choosing actions that prioritized victory, security, and ideology over connection. Isolation for Solas is not just loneliness; it is a spiritual dislocation from his very being.

Solas' greatest fear of dying alone is made poignant in this light. It reflects the deepest terror specific to what he once was: a being whose identity depended on connection. As a spirit of Wisdom, his existence was validated by being in relation to others - understanding, advising, guiding, providing. Isolation, in contrast, is annihilation. Without connection, he loses not just companionship, but the conditions that once made him whole.

His fear of dying alone is the ultimate expression of this spiritual dislocation. To die alone would mean to vanish without witness, without anyone to recognize or carry the truth of who he was. It would be the final confirmation that his existence, once built on connection, ended severed and forgotten - the antithesis of everything he was born from.

No where is this more revealed than in the dialogue with Varric where he describes dwarves as "the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected." Solas is saying that whatever vitality, whatever purpose the dwarves once had, is gone forever - they do not dream, they have no connection to the Fade, and therefore no participation in the greater flow of memory, spirit, or shared existence.

This metaphor reveals how Solas conceptualizes disconnection: a spiritual death. A severed arm may twitch and move, but it no longer truly lives. It is isolated, amputated from the body that gave it purpose. He does not fear physical death, he commits to the din'anshiral after all, his fear is being the severed bloody arm: existing in fragments, lost from the shared dreaming, without meaning, without recognition or connection.

For Solas, to die alone, isolated, would be the final confirmation that his existence ended in that severance. It would mean he had failed not just his mission, but the nature of what he once was.

Inquisition: Fragile Restoration

Despite his cynicism and caution, Solas builds relationships during his time in the Inquisition. Dialogue and banter across Inquisition confirm this. Even with an Inquisitor who disapproves of him, Solas’ reactions show he cares - disappointment and sorrow leak through when the Inquisitor betrays principles Solas values. Aside from the Inquisitor, Veilguard confirms that his time with the Inquisition left an imprint. Dialogue with Rook shows that Solas remembers, regrets, and cherishes aspects of that time. He confesses (through a letter and direct conversations about some companions) that these bonds mattered to him. He was not as detached as he wanted to believe.

Inquisition represents a brief, fragile restoration of Solas’ original self - a being tied to others, building meaning through connection, guidance, and shared struggle. For the first time since the collapse of the ancient world, he steps back into a community, forms bonds, and allows others to matter to him, offering him a glimpse of what it would mean to live whole again, to exist not as a severed limb but as part of something larger, vibrant, and real.

And because he walks away from it - because he sacrifices it in the name of his duty - I think the fear of dying alone only grows sharper for him here on out. Why?

He proves to himself that even when real connection is within reach, he will destroy it for the sake of his mission, reinforcing his internal narrative that he will always be alone - not because the world forces it on him, but because he cannot hold onto connection without crushing it himself. He now knows that even when salvation is offered, even when the bonds are real, he is the one who lets them go. And if he can't choose connection when it stands right in front of him, how can he hope to avoid facing the end alone?

Veilguard and the Consequences of Isolation

Being forcibly bound to the Veil in the non-atonement endings doesn’t just physically isolate Solas - it symbolically completes his severance from who he once was.

When Solas describes the dwarves as the severed arm of a once-great hero, appearing to live but fundamentally lost - the worst/fight endings force him into exactly that state.

In one ending, he still clings to his pride, calling himself a god.

In another, he collapses into bitter self-loathing, calling himself a fool.

Either way, it shows how far he has fallen: whether in arrogance or despair, he has lost the balance, the clarity, and the communal being that Wisdom once represented.

The non-atonement endings aren't just "bad" outcomes for Solas - they are the final realization of his worst nightmare: not death, but survival in a form hollow and broken that he becomes a shadow of the spirit, and man, he once was.

Atonement: Restoring Connection

The significance of the atonement ending in Veilguard cannot be overstated. When Rook reintroduces Morrigan, carrying Mythal’s essence, and the Inquisitor (his vhenan or friend) back into Solas' life at a critical moment, it is not only tactical but a symbolic act.

Rook interrupts the cycle of isolation that Solas has been trapped within for millennia at the perfect time - when he is his most spent, his most exhausted, his most off balance. They do not force Solas into submission through violence or deceit, instead, they bring witnesses - two of the few beings left who understand Solas. It is an act of restoring connection at the precipice of total severance.

It is Rook at their most unpredictable, their most radical - a deliberate act of compassion in a moment where all history pointed toward violence.

Morrigan/Mythal represents the beginning of Solas’s long journey: the spirit who first called him into the physical world, the one who sparked his original departure from his pure, communal self. She is the first bond he formed, his longest and the first to be broken.

The Inquisitor represents the possibility of renewal: a mortal connection that survived knowledge, betrayal, and grief. Whether as a beloved or a friend, they carry Solas’ truth - the full complexity of his mistakes and his heart - without turning away.

Rook represents the force of free will, unpredictability, and change. They are the living proof that fate is not fixed, that even the most rigid paths can be broken open by compassion and choice. In bringing Mythal and the Inquisitor back to him, Rook shows Solas that salvation does not come from control or grand design, but from trusting in the unpredictable, living bonds between people.

In this ending Rook, Morrigan and the Inquisitor give Solas the one thing he could not reclaim on his own: the restoration of his place in the greater whole - purpose. They force him to confront that he is not, and never was, alone.

Solas’ original fear - the spiritual annihilation of being severed, forgotten, fragmented - is at last answered. He is seen and known as he takes his first steps on the path of facing the terrible cost of his decisions and actions.

Choosing atonement - binding himself to the Veil willingly - is not a defeat, nor is it an absolution of his sins. It is the beginning of change, a reclamation and restoration of his original self: the spirit of Wisdom, whose existence was rooted in advising and connecting through communion with others. He still is a prideful man, but in surrendering control and anchoring the Veil with his own life, he begins to untangle pride from purpose.

It is the moment when Solas, for the first time since he sundered the world, chooses connection. And he does not have to face it alone. Whether he walks into the Fade by himself or with his vhenan at his side, the symbolism remains unchanged: Solas knows, at last, that he is not severed. He leaves not as a fragment, but as someone with renewed purpose.

And how beautifully symbolic that the path before him will center on healing an even more painful severance, that after connection was offered to him at his lowest moment, he will now find a way to offer connection back to the Titans and their dreams.

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betty-fran · 2 months ago

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A couple of thoughts on Spock and McCoy's relationship (and, probably, about K/S too).

It becomes more apparent in season three, though it's actually an ongoing trend, that McCoy often worries about Spock more than about Kirk when they're both in danger. Not because he worries about Kirk any less, but because he worries about Spock differently. In S3EP10 "Plato's Stepchildren," the most psychologically difficult episode that N and I watched the other day, this is well-read in the moment of bullying that Parmen arranges when he tries to convince McCoy to stay. Kirk, of course, orders McCoy not to accept Parmen's offer under any circumstances:

KIRK: McCoy. No matter what he makes me say or do, the answer's no. MCCOY: No, Parmen! Stop it!

And as hard as it is, McCoy holds himself back because he respects him as a captain first and foremost. He worries about Kirk, of course he does, it's natural for him, it's a habit developed over the years and close friendship, but he trusts his decisions:

(Kirk rolls in agony.) PARMEN: Well, Doctor? MCCOY: I have my orders.

But when it comes to Spock, it's more complicated. He has an awareness of the limits of Kirk's endurance (and again, he has to see him as a captain first and trust him in that), and the way he worries about Kirk is objectively logical. But his worry about Spock is more of an emotional response. He noticeably distrusts Spock's ability to recognize his own limits, especially emotionally, often referring to his emotional repression. He worries about Spock in a way that Spock himself is incapable of worrying about (or at least incapable of doing so fully), about what Spock constantly neglects - his psychological state:

(Spock is forced to dance close to Kirk's head. Flamenco-style, I think, ending with a boot directly over Kirk's face. Then Spock is allowed to rest, and he starts to laugh heartily. He crawls over to Alexander, who cannot help but join in.) MCCOY: He's a Vulcan. You can't force emotion out of him. PHILANA: You must be joking, Doctor. MCCOY: You'll destroy him. PARMEN: We can't let him die laughing, can we? (Now Spock cries.) MCCOY: I beg you.

McCoy definitely cares about him. All those scenes where he suddenly and seemingly for no reason starts lecturing Spock about his inability to feel feelings and accept his own emotions are usually the very moments when Spock actually feel feelings but trying to repress it, which makes me think that McCoy is telling him all these things at those moments not because he's an insensitive bastard, but because he's just very aware of what's going on with Spock emotionally.

Unlike Kirk, who is actually very similar to Spock in his perception of the world and his way of thinking, McCoy and Spock are really radically different people. He doesn't understand Spock as fully or as deeply as Kirk does, but he can understand Spock's emotional state (and he can be straightforward with him about it). Where Kirk accepts Spock unconditionally and completely for who he is (with Spock's inability to feel in a normal human way, this complexity of his world, this internal struggle), preserving that right for Spock to be exactly that, because again, Kirk doesn't want him to be anything other than who he is, even if it means he can't be with him the way he wants to (which brings us back to the similarity between Kirk and the Companion from Metamorphosis), McCoy doesn't need to do this. He doesn't buy into all that Spock "too complicated to feel simple feelings" nonsense, and he doesn't hold back on his choice of words when it comes to talking about it. McCoy perceives Spock through the lens of his own human perception, seeking in him what he can understand and explain through emotion. And while this is not real acceptance, it's also not an attempt to change him. In fact, it's this emotional vision of McCoy, his pressure on Spock's emotions, that quite often turns out to be true, because Spock obviously still has a human side.

When we observe the dynamic between the three of them, we realize that Kirk's feelings about Spock are obviously different from his feelings about McCoy, who is apparently his closest friend in TOS (which makes me as a viewer wonder if this was done consciously, considering that K and S relationship was really positioned as special and unique, even without any romantic reading). And McCoy undoubtedly understands how indispensable, unique, viscerally important Spock is to Kirk. He, more than once, when faced with a choice between danger for himself and Spock, tries to take the hit, realizing that losing Spock would be harder for Kirk. The whole dynamic of McCoy and Spock's relationship reminds me of a situation where your best friend falls in love (so completely and irrevocably), and trying to understand why he did it and what he found in this other person, you start to look at them, and in the process of this exploration, you unexpectedly get used to them, find your comfort in their company, and (just a little, of course) you start to understand why your friend fell in love so much. This person becomes dear to you, and you start to worry about them no less than you do about your friend, and maybe even more, because you understand that this person is vital to your friend's happiness, the most important in the whole world to him. So, in the end, McCoy now has to take care of two idiots instead of one, which hardly makes his life easy.

Therefore, the well-being of these two is personally important to him. He often reacts angrily to the actions of either of them when it could hurt the other, and more than once acts as a "voice of reason", reminding (not always gently) of this super-importance between the two of them. To a certain extent, it is Kirk, their shared concern and responsibility for him, that really holds McCoy and Spock together, and I think that if Kirk had died, this delicate attachment that exists between them would have collapsed under the weight of grief, although in the opposite situation McCoy and Kirk's friendship and Kirk and Spock's closeness would have survived. But in all this, McCoy really, genuinely worries about Spock. Unable to fully understand and accept his complexity, he simultaneously sympathizes with him and tries to help in any way he can. And he's also important to Spock, not just as Kirk's closest friend, someone who's emotionally important to him, but, actually, as his own friend too. Their relationship is more fragile and complex than a simple friendship, and often exists despite contradictions, but what unites them outweighs the rest, bringing some balance.

#i wrote this post for a long time and at some point i lost the idea i started with #so it must be quite chaotic #but i'm so interested in watching the interaction between these two #which is definitely more complex than a normal friendship #but not as absolutely-impossibly-all-encompassing as what happens between k/s #frances talking #long post: st #star trek #star trek tos #james t kirk #s'chn t'gai spock #leonard mccoy #kirk/spock #k/s #spirk #f: poetic cinema #c: that's how you do it' by remembering who and what you are #c: logic is the beginning of wisdom' not the end #c: fear of death is what keeps us alive #otp: two halves of one soul #brotp: why is it when something happens' it's always you three?#st: more content from the secretly british shakespeare nerd #st: how do you write about someone that you have so deeply loved?

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