#honey and wildfire are both the color gold

[faded-mage]

Cry for the past - only there does glory dwell. For here, the bow was strung, the sword bequeathed, the vows sworn. So glory was born within the hearts of elves. Sing for the past - where rests those who came before. For each Knight, a seed was sown, roots twisting with their brothers and sisters. So the forest grew, a reflection of our might

Solas

This is not the outcome I wanted, he thought to himself. The elf had believed he was above these mistakes, that his brashness only eased with age. That he thought through the possible consequences of his plan. Clearly not. The state of the elves and how far they had fallen was on his shoulders and his actions continued to hurt more and more of them over the years he spent asleep - spreading them to hidden corners of Thedas hiding from humans or under the boot of some oppressive human city.

The Dalish didn’t listen when he stepped forward to correct their ways, their misguided devotion to the elven gods blinding them from the truth. Despite that he was enraged at the treatment of what came of his People, these modern elves are not my people, he corrected himself firmly. They were shadows of what the Elvhen once were and a constant reminder of his own pride and failures. That was no matter though, all would be fixed once he pulled the Veil down and remade the world to be better than this one, before his disastrous mistakes.

Solas felt a strange mixture of pity and annoyance as he watched the unconscious prisoner at his feet. She looks so small. Fragile. A simple, mortal thing. He did not expect her to last long in her current state but he needed her to. The elf below him lay motionless on the floor with her wrists bent at an odd angle due to the shackles that adorned them. Delicate pointed ears poked through the curtain of dark hair that spilled across the stone floor. Dalish, he noted, the vallaslin that curved across her face indicated as much.

The markings were delicate, the intricate swirls danced across her skin in a fine white ink. It brought him memories of times long ago. Slave markings. They were symbols of what he fought against, what he rebelled against. But now they adorned themselves with the blood writing willingly to honor the ‘gods’ who merely enslaved their people before. Solas was unable to push away the disgust at the sight. For a people so determined to never be enslaved again they knew so little of their own past. A patchwork of incomplete stories guided them and most of them wrong. The markings she bore, he did not recognize however. Kneeling next to the woman, he reached out a gentle hand to move the curtain of hair from her face. This design is not tied to any of their gods. Or not one that I recognize, he mused. The lines were sharper than what he had seen before. If she survived, maybe he would even care enough to ask about them.

He felt the presence of the humans in the room with him, their bodies filled the air that pressed heavily against him. For most they would appear to be standing still but Solas could feel the pressure of their small movements while they watched his every move. Sighing heavily Solas pushed away the discomfort. They were waiting for him to give some indication that he knew the prisoner at his feet. That they were in league with one another to cause the destruction of the Temple and murder thousands of people at the Conclave. Solas refused to become their scapegoat and if he could help it, he refused to have the Dalish woman be blamed for his mistakes. The elves had suffered enough with his actions.

Solas’ lips pressed into a line as he pushed away the flurry of emotions that sat in his chest. He was well practiced at it, the look of indifference and eerie stoicism. Haven’s Spymaster, Leliana, was sitting in the corner to his right. He assumed she had been tasked with watching him despite her seemingly working on paperwork in the edge of his vision. From what he could tell she was good at her job. Her interactions with her scouts and others at Haven indicated that she was not to be underestimated, however pride swelled within him as he was confident that she could not and would not see through his facade. He had known the game much longer than she. The dungeon itself held a few torches for light, casting everything in the room with an eerie orange hue, that is until the magic lodged in the prisoners’ hand flared again. It bathed his face in a sickly green light.

The guards stationed in the room shifted uncomfortably, on edge due to the events of the last day. He couldn’t blame them, not really. Thousands of people dead at the Conclave - Thedas’ first real chance at a possible peace between the rebel Mages and rogue Templars that waged a war across the continent. Their only lead to those at fault was the unconscious prisoner that lay before him, who happened to be an elf. Humans had long seen the elves as lesser and savage, the Dalish even more so. Solas turned his attention downward, watching the woman carefully. The magic that rolled off of her in waves was not only caused by the mark that marred her hand but also her own magic. The woman in question was not only a Dalish elf, she was a mage and from what he could tell, a decently powerful one. This made her an easy target for the Chantry.

Solas pushed away the thoughts once more. Anger and a bit of shame stirred within him. He gently picked up her left hand and sandwiched them between his own palms. Tentatively, he pushed his magic into hers, tasting and testing it and the magic of the mark. It pulsated just under her skin like a heartbeat. The mark flared green again, the magic that settled in her palm was his magic and it was slowly killing her. No mortal, elf or not, was supposed to hold that much power inside of them. How did this happen? How did it go wrong? The man he had given the orb to, the one who was supposed to die after unlocking it for him survived and created the hole in the sky in the process. The Breach, a hole in the Veil that connected their world and the Fade. Where did the woman fit in to all this? As the Breach above them expanded, so did the mark on her hand. Eating away at her slowly, painfully. Nothing he could do would pull the magic from her. It was stuck, anchored there at least for now. For a brief moment Solas considered letting her die. If she died, would the magic die with her? Would he be able to regain the magic? Solas resigned himself to the fact that he needed to try and keep her alive until he figured out his next steps or at least learned new information.

A door behind him opened, the familiar steps of the Seeker walking into the dungeon with him. Cassandra, a Seeker, was frightened. Terrified even. Her guilt and desperation never did sit plainly on her face but Solas could tell it was there - he knew that feeling all too well. Her overbearing presence hung over him like a cloud as she approached. Solas had gone to Haven, dropped his staff to the ground outside of its gates and requested to speak to whomever was in charge. He had the knowledge, the experience and he wanted to help them in closing the Breach that threatened all of Thedas. He was immediately met with suspicion. While not surprised by the reaction, he was annoyed by it. That deep part of him remembering how the Dalish cast his knowledge aside because it contradicted what they thought they knew about the world. Those at Haven had no idea that he was their best hope at figuring out what to do next.

Cassandra’s thick Nevarran accent rang out behind him, “Anything?”. It echoed in the small dungeon room, startling him slightly as he pulled himself back from his musing. He was not a prisoner, not like the elven woman whose hand was still nestled between his but all they could see when they looked at him was pointed ears and the fears of abominations and magic. This world has been disappointing. The prisoners’ hand was cold to the touch as the green flare of magic faded from the mark. Shaking his head, he placed her hand down gently and stood so that he could speak with the Seeker. “Whatever this mark is, it is killing her. Each time the Breach expands, so does the mark but I still believe it may be our best chance at closing it. She needs to be kept alive.” Mostly for his own plans. Having to find a new source of magic to tear down the Veil could extend his plans by decades at minimum and he was growing impatient.

The Seeker made a disgruntled grunt, turning to the Spymaster in the corner. From what Solas could tell Cassandra did not trust him. Which likely was wise on her part but not beneficial to his own goals. A silent conversation appeared to occur between the two women, eventually Leliana shook her head and Cassandra nodded. As much as Solas had assumed, Leliana was there to see if he knew the prisoner - they were perhaps working together at the Conclave, that they were both somehow at fault. Thankfully, Leliana came to the decision there was no colluding between the two elves. The Spymaster had been sitting there the entire time watching Solas with the prisoner and despite Solas’ intentions he knew she would see no familiarity because there was none. Solas did not even consider himself of the same People.

Cassandra turned back to him, stepping forward. Her movements were aggressive, humans always resorted to aggression when they were afraid. “Then you will find a way for her to awaken and to slow the progress of the mark so we can get her to the Breach.” It wasn’t a question, merely a demand and it was asking a lot. “If you do not, you will be tried as an apostate.” So now his survival was placed on the unconscious woman, the one who physically fell out of the Fade. Great. The threat was not subtle, Solas bristled. The more he spent among the humans, the more he felt the world was broken beyond repair. Knife-ear. Rabbit. Halla-rider. Savage. He held back his tongue, his distaste sitting on his lips as the Seeker turned to stalk out of the room leaving him with a handful of guards and the Spymaster.

Another flash of the green light brought his attention from the door, a small groan escaping the woman’s lips. The best he could was to add barriers around the focal point of the mark, hoping to slow the spread for now. If he could give her more time, maybe he could figure out how to use the mark through her? The Dalish were generally not fans of humans so appealing to that side of her and having her leave with him could be quite easy. If she were awake that is. Solas turned to kneel again, his hands moving gently as he applied barriers deep within her skin and pumped healing spells into the rest of her body to repair some of the damage the magic had inflicted. Her movements and sounds of pain subsided and he found she was as stable as she could be. His steely gaze redirected towards Leliana in the corner, “She is stable for now. But I will need to get closer to one of the smaller rifts before I can do much more.” His brain hummed as he considered how much information would be enough to appeal to the woman, “If I am correct the magic in her hand is the same as the magic pouring from the rifts. If I could test the theory I could be more certain if her mark could have any effect on them.”

He knew what caused the rifts and what kind of magic came from it but he was not convinced the prisoner was going to live long enough to be able to assist them and he wanted a backup plan. If she, by some miracle, survived he also wanted to ensure he had enough information prior to stealing her away from the Chantry, the elven woman somehow making herself the center of his plans - and his failures. Solas gestured to the prisoner at his feet, “If she wakes then she could be brought to a smaller rift and we can test this theory… But we should be proactive in case her body fails her.” Hoping that was more than enough information to entice the Spymaster in assisting him and giving her a taste of what could be at stake to expedite her decision to aid him. After a few quick heartbeats, Leliana stood from her chair. She watched the apostate with interest, “Do you believe she caused the Breach?” The woman asking him tentatively, Solas could truthfully shake his head no, “I highly doubt she, or any mage, would have the power to do so.”

- - -

With the inspection of the prisoner complete, Leliana escorted Solas from the dungeon only stopping once to inform their healers to work on an elfroot tonic to continue to keep the prisoner stable while Solas was absent. He was in a precarious position. Did he wait to see if the woman pulled through? Did he cut his loses and run, finding another method to enact his mission? Did he run to the farthest corner of Thedas to find another way to deal with the Breach? All of his plans up to this point, including the Veil, had failed or gone incredibly wrong. The world as it was attested to that. The other part of him, the academic, the seeker of knowledge, wanted to see if the woman survived. If she did, she had experienced something that no one else in that world had and the knowledge she would have of the Fade called to him.

He hoped getting closer to one of the rifts, studying it up close may give him more answers than questions and give him better footing on what his next steps were. Somehow he had convinced Leliana that studying the rift up close was important, important enough for her to bring it up to the Seeker. Solas requested a few soldiers and himself to find a nearby rift to study up close. If it weren’t for Leliana’s persistence, Solas feared there would be no way in swaying Cassandra.

Varric Tethras, a child of stone, was another one of Cassandra’s prisoners. Though he was not chained up in the Chantry dungeons like the elven woman. From what Solas gathered on their brief meetings with one another, Varric had information that the Seeker wanted him to speak about at the Conclave. With the Conclave destroyed, his involvement was no longer necessary. He stayed anyway. Solas and the dwarf only met a handful of times since he arrived at Haven and they developed some familiarity with one another - mostly at the insistence of Varric himself. Solas did not mind him at all. The dwarf was significantly more pleasant than any of the humans he interacted with up to that point but there was something about how the man looked at everyone - like he could absorb their secrets and Solas had plenty of those he wanted to hide.

The elf and the dwarf stood outside of Leliana’s tent, mirroring each other as they folded their arms across their chests. Inside the tent they could hear Cassandra and Leliana speaking heatedly, whispers about what to do next. “They fighting over you, Chuckles?” Varric breaking the silence with his attempt at humor, glancing up towards Solas before his attention returned to the tent. Solas’ lips quirked at the edge, “Not in the way you are hoping, Master Tethras.” Varric blanched, looking at Solas in surprise. A wide smile dancing across his lips. “Chuckles. Did I just hear you right? You have a sense of humor?” The child of stone could be abrasive, just as stone itself can be, Solas mused but his humor was disarming and he earned the half-smile on Solas’ lips as they spoke, waiting for the final decision.

From the sounds wafting from the tent, Solas was concerned that Leliana was losing. After a few more minutes of angry whispers the two women exited the tent. Cassandra scoffed before stalking back towards the Chantry, presumably to watch the prisoner. The Spymaster made her way towards Solas and Varric, her face betraying that she had won the discussion. “You will be escorted to a rift that has appeared between here and one of our forward camps. You will have a few of my scouts and a Templar with you.” Solas raised an eyebrow slightly. A Templar? He assumed the soldier would be there to protect others from him and not to protect him. He was in no real position to argue and he had gotten the majority of what he wanted from the exchange. Besides, if he were honest with himself he was faster than a Templar even in his somewhat weakened state so if he did need to flee for any reason he would be gone before anyone noticed. “And a dwarf!” Varric announced besides him, patting the crossbow that sat at his shoulder with his hand. Leliana did not seem to care or hear as she did not argue with the addition to the party. Eventually the Spymaster turned to follow Cassandra back to the Chantry and Solas and Varric were left to prepare for their departure.

- - -

It took little time for Solas and Varric to ready themselves and they found their entourage just outside of Haven’s gates. Just as Leliana had promised, there were a small number of scouts and a single Templar. Solas could feel the weight of the Templar’s gaze on him from behind his helm anytime he moved, so the elf opted to keep his movements minimal when possible. Did not want the soldier to get nervous for no reason and end up with a sword in his back.

Once they set off the trek to the small rift was uneventful. The whirling Breach in the sky was oppressive and the majority of the group did not speak during their journey at all. Even the scouts gave Solas a wide berth, though that did not surprise him at all. Varric on the other hand seemed pleased enough at being outside of Haven to try and strike up conversation with the scouts, once again disarming those around him with his charm and wit. Solas was impressed by the dwarfs’ ability to ease the tension and was silently thankful for it. Even the Templar’s body language relaxed.

As they approached the rift, demons and other horrors began to crawl through the opening into their world. First seeing sharp claws tearing at the edges of the rift. The group dispatched the small group of demons with ease. Approaching the rift slowly, he could feel the undeniable pull of the Fade. The feeling was like being home. He had enough time to raise his hand, pushing and pulling at the magic that swirled around the rift in the Veil until pools of green appeared on the ground around them, sparking demons and horrors to crawl through to their side once again. At least today would not be boring.

[cauterisen]

her!

[sunshineveined]

Ellie, in addition to the ADHD and dyslexia that comes with being a demigod, has autism. She can always be found with either earbuds or over-ear headphones on, to muffle sounds and/or provide auditory stimulation, as needed.

[tragidies]

niah tag drop !!

[brooksbutler]

just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force.

honey and wildfire are both the color gold.

[grailknightmonty]

just because you're soft doesn't mean you aren't a force.

honey and wildfire are both the color gold.

[julesofnature]

“Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color gold.” ~ Victoria Erickson, EDGE OF WONDER: Notes From The Wildness Of Being

[merajsblog]

itadori yuuji.

“just because you are soft doesn’t mean you aren’t a force. honey and wildfire are both the color gold.” (victoria erickson, edge of wonder)

warnings: nothing really, just fluff :) yuuji is trying to help you learn to fight to protect yourself.

itadori yuuji always had elite physical prowess. even before he had ingested sukuna, he had a lot of strength and speed. now it was like all those things had been heightened. when you had first joined jujutsu tech, you had good cursed abilities but your hand to hand combat wasn’t very good at all. you had wanted to improve this, as your past practice battles with maki and panda showed the vast difference between your skills and everyone else’s. yuuji was more than happy to teach you. he adored watching you try to work hard and keep up with him. your determination was admirable. you had started off with basic stances and working on your punches. he was brutal with practice, and often left you crumpled on the floor out of exhaustion.

“your arm isn’t fully extended out how it should be, and make sure to tuck in your thumb into your fist, if you hit something without it tucked in, you will break it.” he said approaching you from behind. you were in your stance, practicing your punches in the air to work on form. he stood behind you, awfully close, and moved your arm into the position it should be in. you could smell something like flowers off of him, probably his shampoo. as his hand touched yours, you felt your stomache churn. his scarred hands lighting touched your elbow to straighten your arm out, and his fingers softly tucked your thumb into the right spot.

“try again.” he mumbles softly right next to your ear. your eyes widen as you try to focus and land a correct punch.

“good job!” he says after a few slow minutes of watching you punch, still standing awfully close…

“do you want to try scrimmaging with me?” he says smiling while cocking his head to one side. “i’ll be gentle i swear.” he says in a jokingly manner. you scoff, trying to fake confidence. he would easily beat you in ANY fight, probably without trying.

“it’ll be fineee i can handle it.” you say. you had movement down, and were able to distinguish body language to figure out what move someone was going to make, you’re strength and skill just wasn’t quite there yet.

quickly you get into position, narrowing your eyebrows. you focus on his legs, how his feet were pointed, and which direction his chest was facing. he was maintaining eye contact with you. he had a serious look on his face but amusement was glittering in his eyes. you were cocking your head slowly, he seemed to be up to something. quickly he moved towards you and slowly acted like he was going in for a punch. it ticked you off with how slow he was trying to hit you, as if you were extremely weak. frustrated, your lips pout as you quickly dodge his fist, stepping in front of him, you quickly elbow his stomache, making him gasp quickly.

“i see how it is then.” he said faking sadness. he lunged at you again, this time quicker. you were too frustrated from the beginning, and focused on him entirely. you two exchanged a few blows and blocked each others. then he did a move that he hadnt taught you. he steps in between your legs, and grabs your sides, flipping you over his leg, and onto the ground where he is crouched over you.

the air was stolen from out your throat. pain seared your back. you were definitely going to bruise there. he had a grin on his face. you knew tussling like this was normal and you were going to bear the scars of your experience. locking your legs around his waist and grabbing his right arm, you flipped him, straddling on top of him. your own brazenness shocked him and you. quickly you got up.

“that was lucky, you can try a little harder..” you said quietly looking away. he let out one of his signature loud laughs.

“no, you did amazing. give your self more credit.” he said smiling at you. “let’s try some more.”

————

yuuji and you had been practicing for over three months throughout the summer. it was safe to say you exceeded any expectations you had for yourself. you were on par with the other students, and had won a few fights. he wasn’t walking on eggshells around you anymore. fighting sessions would start in the afternoon and end with one of you in the others arms giving each other a kiss on the nose softly. he would always cup your face and offer small compliments, assuring you that you were doing great. it was comforting.

he was always worried about your safety. as a woman there was always less malice directed around you. it was harder to be feared in a world where no one took you seriously. others letting their guard down became a strong weapon for you. while curses wouldn’t care if your female or male, you now had even more skills to defend yourself. recently the cases of higher grade curses were showing up, and yuuji often worried if you were being let on missions alone. this was his way of protecting you. before missions, no matter how early, he always was up waiting at ichijis car. he would ruffle your hair, and cup your face while giving your forehead a kiss. “be safe..don’t forget what you’ve learned” he would mumble softly into your hair. you could almost fall asleep in his arms right then and there. instead, you would sheepishly smile and give him a soft kiss before stepping into the car to head away. whenever you returned it was like he always knew. you could find him waiting in your dorm room or infront of the school. he would always beam at you, and instantly usher you to shoko, even if you looked fine. after would consist of movies and late night snack runs. everytime you came back he would refuse to let go of you. holding hands to the vending machine, hand on your thigh as you sit next to him, you between his arms while he falls asleep.

[dirtfacedgospel]

honey and wildfire are both the color gold.    hannah beth porter charlie farrow.

[faded-mage]

Solas

Avise. The moment he heard her voice he turned toward her involuntarily. She stood a few steps below him, her hands out at her sides. He felt every emotion he hid and pushed away rush back into him seeing her face again. Close enough that if he took only a few steps in her direction he could touch her, hold her. A shaky breath escaped him. “Vhenan…” The word felt as natural as breathing coming from his lips. He dropped his head in shame, unable to meet her gaze.

She stepped up onto the next step. Her voice was quiet but strong as she spoke, “You think you’ve gone too far to go back but you’re wrong. I am here walking the dinan’shiral with you.” He told her once that he did not want her to see who he became at the end of the journey but there she stood anyway and when he was able to finally meet her gaze he could see the love that sat in her eyes. The pain that settled on her face. Solas opened his mouth to speak, a shuddering breath before speaking again, “I lied… I betrayed you.”

Avise shook her head, a quirk at the edge of her lips. She tried to place every emotion she felt for him into her words and he could feel it wash over him, “I forgive you. All you have to do is stop.”

That is all he wanted to do the moment the words sprang from her lips. He wanted to drop the dagger and go to her. Wrap his arms around her and feel her skin beneath his. Did she still smell like cinnamon, he wondered? Did she still laugh the same? He wanted to find out, to remind himself of the last time he felt like himself and not a hollow caricature. To reacquaint himself with her but the pull of his heart was overshadowed by his guilt. Solas was still tied to Mythal and what Mythal wanted all those years ago. The elf broke his own heart with his words, barely believing them himself, “Ir abelas, vhenan. But I cannot. Long before we met I failed my oldest friend. She died for that failure. If I leave the Veil in place I am destroying the world she wanted. And I will have… she will have died for nothing.” If he did not complete the task then turning himself into a monster meant nothing at all and he would have to face everything he had done in the name of duty and pride.

He turned away, if he looked at Avise’s face he would falter. He knew he would. Every other time he was presented with her he felt every part of him want to leave it all behind. A sound of a bird screeching caused him to turn once more, Morrigan appearing next to Rook in a flurry of feathers and magic. Solas paused as she spoke, “And who’s fault is that, Dread Wolf?”

Morrigan? Solas’ mind whirled, what was Morrigan of all people doing there? A fragment of Mythal once lived within Morrigan’s mother… did it pass on when he took her power 10 years ago? Rook pulled a glowing statue from her bag, handing it to Morrigan next to her. He could feel the magic that rippled from the stone. It reached out to him like an old friend, he felt himself cower out of habit.

Solas felt Avise walk around him to stand near Rook. He couldn’t look at her. Rook met his gaze briefly, “Mythal lives on in her and in this.” Gesturing to the statuette. Morrigan held it to her chest and he felt the woman as she formed in front of him. She looked just as she had the day the Evanuris killed her. Solas pulled into himself, he had done so much in the name of Mythal, for her. He became corporeal, he granted her his wisdom to sunder and harm. He killed countless, twisting him from his true purpose. His guilt over his past caused him to push away the one person who wished to stand beside him through it all, begging him to reconsider. The elf found he could not look at her directly as she approached. Her name dropped from his lips. It was not reverence, it was not a prayer of devotion or love. He heard the broken fear in his own voice, “Mythal.”

The echo of Mythal approached him slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He cowered more, almost in a bow before the woman. “I pulled you from the Fade you loved and sent you into war. I used your wisdom as a weapon. And it broke you.” Solas shook his head, he felt the tears forming at his eyes and he could not stop them from falling, “The things that I have done…” He deserved nothing short of death and pain for all that he inflicted upon others. The events he put into motion that held long lasting ramifications through time.

Her soft voice continued to float toward him, she sounded no different than the last time he stood before her, “Are not alone for your to bear my friend. The many wrongs we did, we did together. I release you from my service.”

Solas saw Avise adjust her stance, his gaze landing on her for a few moments after the words left Mythal’s mouth. He opened his to say something, anything to her. Morrigan brought his attention away from the elf briefly, “Avise has already be released from Mythal’s geas. If that is your fear.” Solas felt his shoulders relax, only slightly. At least she was free too.

- - -

Mara

Mara had never seen so much emotion in Solas before. Granted she had a very small glimpse into who he was during his time in her head. The stories that others wove around the man created a complex tapestry of who he was, what he did and who he wanted to be. When Mythal appeared he looked beaten down, bruised and almost like a cowering dog in front of a master as she approached him. They knew Mythal had coerced and pushed the man to do horrible things but Mara did not realize how bad it was until she saw his face looking upon the fragment of the woman. It made Mara’s heart ache and a knot form in her stomach. Did they just fuck this up? The memories Solas had of Mythal were through rose-colored glasses, pushing down the abuses that she inflicted on him but he could not hide it away when she stood before them.

The fragment apologized, sort of. Without actually saying the words I am sorry. As she disappeared from view, Mara got a good look at Solas as he was bent over, releasing centuries of guilt, grief and torment into gasping breaths. Avise slowly approached him, reaching a hand out to touch him but dropping it just short. No, comfort him. She urged quietly inside of her head. Every hint or memory she found of the relationship between the two of them, Avise had been a light to counteract the darkness that drove Solas. Avise crouched next to him so she could see his face, the man moving his head to gaze over at her. They remained like that for a few moments. Avise’s words came out like a song and Mara realized she was speaking elven but could feel what the woman was saying.

“Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, vhenan.” Nothing is inevitable. I love you, my heart. He stared at the Inquisitor for a few more moments after the words left her mouth, Mara could see his eyes scanning her face. He was making his decision, weighing what he wanted against Mythal releasing him from her service. Did he want to continue on with destroying the Veil? Would it be worth it? Solas stood slowly, now his eyes focused on the growing tear in the Veil behind them. With a soft sigh he pulled the blade of the lyrium dagger across his palm, blood spilling from the wound and covering his hand.

“My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures. The Titans’ dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight but I can help to soothe its anger.” With that he turned toward Mara and stepped closer, placing the dagger in her hands. It felt warm against her skin, the magic thrumming and pushing against her own. His blood only awakening more power within the blade. He stepped back from her and spoke again, his voice held sadness but also a hint of peace. Acceptance at what he would do next. Solas’ gaze returned to Avise as if his next words were meant for her as well, “I will go and seek atonement.” He would atone for his many sins against the world, but also his sins against her. The elf stood and stared at the Inquisitor for a few long moments. He looked like he wanted to say something to her, to explain himself. He swallowed it down, whatever it was, and turned to walk away. Mara wondered if they had been like this during the Inquisition, no wonder Varric told stories of Avise’s inner circle trying to push them together because the two were so damn stubborn.

The Inquisitor stepped forward and Mara opened her mouth to say something but Morrigan held her hand out and placed it on Mara’s arm, stopping her. Avise walked closer and as she spoke, Solas turned to look at her again. Like just the sound of her voice called to him, “But you do not have to go alone.” Avise held out her hand and placed it on his arm, the man turning into her abruptly. Like he had been holding back the entire time they were close. A quiet sob came from Solas as he knelt in front of Avise. His hands holding onto hers. Solas’ head tilted up to meet Avise’s gaze. A man name after Pride kneeling at the feet of another. The sheer devotion and love shown in Solas’ face until he spoke. A hint of uncertainty, trying to give Avise a way out if she did not want to truly follow him.

“Ar gilas vir banal.” The path I am following leads to nothing. He knew he was heading into the prison of regret that he built himself. Mara experienced the prison herself. It was dark, it was unhappy. But maybe it could be healed like the blight could be healed through time. Avise moved to kneel with him, their hands still held together. She did not want him to worship her, she wanted to be on equal ground, “Tel’banal, ar ama. Vir shiral malasa, bellanaris.” Not nothing if we are together. Allow me to take this journey with you, forever.

A flurry of emotions filtered over Solas’ face. Uncertainty and fear, like she did not know what she was asking. Eventually it morphed into something new, happiness. A joy that she chose him, that he would not be alone in the Fade. Not only would he not be alone, he would get to be with her. Solas raised his hand to cup her face gently as the two kissed. Mara saw that it was gentle, sweet. Two people who were relearning what it meant to be together. To touch. To want. The kiss broke only for him to kiss her once more, a little more forcefully this time. Like he was trying to make up for all those lost years in a single moment. A soft chuckle came from Avise as she pulled away, her lips curled into a small smile. The two were unable to tear their eyes from one another.

Solas spoke to Mara but kept his eyes on the woman kneeling in front of him, “Thank you, Rook.” And he meant it, she could hear the pure happiness in his voice as he spoke. She gave him a second chance to be with his love, gave him a second chance at righting his wrongs and fixing what he had broken without the chains that tied him to loyalty and devotion to a woman who used his wisdom against him.

The two knelt for a moment, caught in one another as their foreheads pressed together. Mara could see they were breathing slowly, eyes closed. Solas moved first, standing slowly and offering his hand to assist Avise up. Mara noticed he refused to let her hand go, lacing his fingers through hers as they turned to walk toward the rip in the Veil. One final glance from Avise, she mouthed thank you, before following where Solas led. The two elves stepping through the Veil and disappearing from view. The tears that sat in the sky slowly knit themselves back together and closed. The air was quiet and still. Mara did not realize she had been holding her breath.

[cauterisen]

part 2 with late 20s something kimiko

[loveloki555]

Honey and Wildfire

"Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color of gold." - Victoria Erickson

[heartsave]

so how much sad did you think i had, did you think i had in me ? how much tragedy ? just how low did you think i'd go ? before i'd self-implode before i'd have to go be free ..

a study in .. my heart spilling its guts out for everything, just getting color back into my face, honey and wildfire are both the color gold, how terrible it is to love something death can touch, have courage & be kind, the girl who lost things, and then i just snapped ..

an independent and private writing blog for t100 original character, nina emerson wilde (kane) by abigail . parental death, mental health breakdown, medical content such as hospitals, trauma, surgical descriptive terms, ptsd, arson, gun violence and unhealthy coping mechanisms & other triggering content. due to the nature of source material and nina's background content such as heart surgery/heart transplant, surgical terms, police (due to the fact that nina's dad is a cop ) etc, will not be tagged, please keep that in mind. please read all information before following & interacting.

one .. carrd, two .. study, three .. playlist, four .. pinterest

[gambleonlove]

General Information

"Just because you are soft doesn’t mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color gold."

Independent, Semi-selective, and literate original character for RDR2, penned by Kell

Aoife Callahan

The Law

[ao3feed-solas]

by MadSidhe

The Story of the Dread Wolf & His Emerald Knight Cry for the past—only there does glory dwell. For here, the bow was strung, the sword bequeathed, the vows sworn. So glory was born within the hearts of elves. Sing for the past —where rests those who came before. For each Knight, a seed was sown, roots twisting with their brothers and sisters. So the forest grew, a reflection of our might.”

 Solas felt a strange mixture of pity and annoyance as he watched the unconscious prisoner at his feet. She looks so small. Fragile. A simple, mortal thing. He did not expect her to last long in her current state but he needed her to. The elf below him lay motionless on the floor with her wrists bent at an odd angle due to the shackles that adorned them. Delicate pointed ears poked through the curtain of dark hair that spilled across the stone floor. Dalish, he noted, the vallaslin that curved across her face indicated as much...

 Spoilers: Heavy spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition and the Trespasser DLC.

Words: 3273, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, Varric Tethras, Cole (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast, Josephine Montilyet, Blackwall (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Leliana (Dragon Age)

Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan & Solas (Dragon Age)

Additional Tags: Slow Burn

[madaeson]

there is no great genius without some touch of madness (c)