#solaslavellan

[anabelreinaart]

Happy Dragon Age Day everyone! Most of you don't know, but I'm a huge fangirl of the videogames. This is Cylia Lavellan and Solas, my actual playthrough. 130+ hours and still going through it. My heart can barely take it!

[hellyeahdragonage]

When you start a new play in Dragon Age Inquisition after Trespasser.

Solas: Hi, my name is Solas. I'm glad you still alive.

Lavellan:

[formallyfreya]

15 for that fanfic day meme :D

Omg. So This is the start of a LavellanXSolas Fic I’m working on. Modern AU. I haven’t worked out all the kinks yet but…

He’s sneaking out again, she thought, her eyes peeking through the curtains across the street. Being on the third floor gives one a great advantage when spying on the neighborhood. Lavellan knew everything that happened on her street. She knew when the Rutherfords were arguing, knew when the Hawke’s got a new dog, and even when someone threw a baby shower. She was always on the balcony, sitting, smoking a little leaf, and watching as things unfolded.

So of course she noticed when the quiet elf across the street, in the middle of the night, shimmied his way down the water drain. A bag was slung over his shoulder and a hood up to obscure his face. But it was certainly him.

What was he carrying? Where was he going that he didn’t want his roommates to know?

She was too high to follow him. He’d spot her in a minute too. But she did wonder about him. Sometimes at the end of the day he would sit in his window, legs dangling over the edge and a sketchbook in his hands. Who knew what he was drawing but he had a better view than she since he was up another five floors. Which made his climb down all the more impressive.

It was also infinitely more amazing because she was floating like a kite and things were always cooler then. He stepped off at the bottom of the drain and eyed the street. Then took off down the sidewalk with hands in his pockets. His gait confirmed his identity for her; calm, back straight, eyes ahead. A slight swagger in the way he walked that she had trouble taking her eyes off.

He worked nearby, she thought, because he didn’t have a car. He walked everywhere with headphones in and a solemn expression. But sometimes she spotted a smile as he thumbed through songs on his ipod. She couldn’t pinpoint his style really, as some days he was clad in sweaters and smart looking polos which gave off this sophisticated air about him. There was a night he wore a turtleneck that turned her face hot as a frying pan. She’d never thought modesty could look so damned attractive. But right now his clothing didn’t match the demeanor she saw.

A hoodie, old and faded, the words weren’t even legible anymore. Torn jeans, as if an animal had gotten ahold of them and shredded them to within an inch of wearability. And all the tears were backed with scraps of fabric, as if in some attempt to repair the holes. The bag was zipped tight with logos of various brands, no longer existent, plastered on it. It was full but with who knows what.

She entertained the thought that he was a drug dealer. He only left through the window like this once a week and his bag was full to the brim. But when he returned it was lighter and there was a jump in his step. Like he’d made a good deal. She even entertained that he might sell her some weed if she asked.

But she’d never actually spoken to him.

[zhanna0717]

Lies on your lips, love in your eyes.

This was a monster, but it’s finally as good as I’m going to get it.

It also has an intimate scene that I wrote out for it after I played trespasser.. It’s not complete and it’s just sitting there, so I’ll post the initial part and leave the NSFW stuff out. I also took out some of my fic’s context based stuff - mainly how Lavellan finally gets Solas to not run off in her dreams again. It wouldn’t make sense anyway. Also - I used a reference shot on pinterest for this and it didn’t lead to a source so someone thankfully tagged it when they reblogged this piece: http://www.sabrinaguthier.de/

I hope it hurts so good!!

Eyes glinted in the dark of the closed doorway. The same eyes of the wolf that prowled in her dreams nearly every night.

Etain exhaled forcefully, irritation blanketing her. And here we are again. She did not know how much longer she could possibly handle him keeping tabs on her but never speaking, never approaching her enough to be sure he was actually there. She had tried everything to draw him out, to somehow react to her. Nothing.

“Stop hiding.” She commanded and forced herself to sit up. She had yelled and pleaded the same words to him before, but her patience was gone, and she could no longer offer up anymore of herself for him to hurt. Her anger and despair finally got the best of her.

The furs on the floor brushed against her feet as Etain stepped closer, caution intermingled into her hopeless stride.

His nebulous eyes watched her, not a glimmer of hope left within them; blue-gray seas of an old soul, weary and growing ever colder, long lost to the joys of this world.

Her fingers shuddered meekly as she hesitated, standing close enough to feel his breath on her skin. Lavellan had stood so close so many times before, seemingly so long ago, in a different world, and yet she had never heard a thundering so loud within her chest. Her nervous hand curled into a fist instinctively, the shaking hidden from sight and mind. In a breath, in a blink, he will disappear, he will leave her wondering whether it was all another dream. Whether he was ever there or her traumatic past was finally taking its toll on her sanity; after everything, it wouldn’t be a surprise that her fear and pain would manifest itself in a ghost of the man responsible for it all. The man who rent everything she - anyone - knew about the world to dust.

His face was unreadable; a stoic carving of a solemn man, still and silent. His eyes never drifted from hers, but there was no adoration in them. Only anticipation for what she would possibly do next.

He could almost be real.

A wispy coolness caressed their transfixed silhouettes, rustling the mass of fragrant branches outside the door. Etain’s eyes lowered their focus from the scrutinizing orbs of the man that stood before her, whoever he was. He’s everything I was. Everything I am.

She fought with what to do; nothing she had said until this point elicited more than stares. In one seamless motion, Etain’s hand reached for his neck and her lips pressed gently against his own. Everything I ever will be. The feel of that impeccably shaped mouth of his, one corner perpetually pulled into a subtle simper, sent a fiery shiver through her veins.

She bit back the anger, refusing to accept what her senses were telling her- he was there. It wasn’t a dream.

She waited and hoped he would kiss her back, or push her away, or at least do something. Something to let her know she wasn’t losing her mind. She pulled away but remained close, enough to see the glow of her skin in the fire light was a cold white gleam in his eyes.

“You do not know what you ask for.” His whisper was not exactly a warning. Etain’s eyes fixed on his, a devious flicker darting across their entrapping depths. He hadn’t left, nor pushed her away. She baffled him as much as he did her. And so her battle weathered fingers caged around his jaw, her lips a hair’s breadth from his own, her eyes locked onto his.

She was not about to let him blame this all on her; a mortal bedeviled by an ancient god, desperate for his attention. No. The mortal held power in this forlorn story of pointless, masochistic entanglement, and she would make him know his place.

“Neither do you.” Her tone was as cold and dark as her eyes, full of menacing, velveteen allure. Toying with a god. How bold and harebrained of me.

His jaw set with a determined clench. “Etain.” The way he uttered her name, it was as if its short length carried miles of memories; the smell of her hair, the undeniable lull of her voice, the lines of his favorite scars slashing across her  skin. His brows tugged into a pained frown, the first sign of emotion and mortality in his resigned, stony face. There was no life in his arms, and they hung limp at his sides, never making a reach for her warmth as they would have done before. She spoke the truth, bitter as it was. The blame is mine, not yours. His own words haunted him.

What do I even call you? Etain swallowed a shaky breath, denying the tiniest burn in the back of her mind, telling her he didn’t need her any longer.

Her fingers slipped hopelessly from his chin. She smiled defiantly, venomously; the taste of mulled wine personified. The softest scoff pounced from her lips to his ears. Decidedly, she turned her back on the man she loved most, the man she craved so deeply, if he could be called such a thing. Fen’Harel.

His own sanity dragged behind her feet, and he watched as Etain walked away from him, his throat tightening dangerously. He couldn’t keep doing this to them both any longer. This was the last time. If only he hadn’t said that a hundred times before.

A wildfire raged beneath his ribs, thrashing around for escape. A prickle slithered across his skin each inch she drew further away from him. The despondent abyss yawned open at his core, savagely wrenching him in with each one of her steps. He hoped she would rise from the ashes of this shattered attachment, sunlight after a winter’s night, all while he would creep in the shadows, hating the light of day and the song of life without her. But he knew it was just as foolish to deny their reality. She was tethered to him much as he was to her. He had failed. He craved her light, needed it, yet only managed to dim it the closer he got to her. His heart lost its beat. Panic grated his nerves to leaky pulp.

Lavellan knew. Fen’Harel or not, she remained. Foolish girl. He wished she would have been livid enough to hate him to the utmost, that she would have sought solace in another. And yet a selfish murmur in the depths of his soul wreathed in mirth to see her once more. It pleaded for her affection, for him to bury his face into the hollow of her neck and kiss her skin.

Powerful long hands, capable of turning life to dust weaved themselves tenderly into her shortened, gilded mane. Turning her head to face him once more, his mouth swept down to her lips in a desperate attempt to arrest her escape. Lavellan hardly knew whether to give into the titillation igniting in her limbs or to send his skin crackling with fire. Lure me in only to push me away, then change your mind. Over and over and over again… It never ends, Solas. What do you want? 

His hands answered her. His fingers held the back of her head firmly, while his free hand traced the line of her collarbone before caressing her jaw. His lips glided slowly against hers, relishing, savoring, teasing. The smell of leather, damp earth and rainy forest lingered on his skin; it smelled faintly of sweat, wind and sunshine. His presence, his scent, his heat washed over her skin, knocking all reason out of her.

Protest as her few thoughts might, she was his, completely lost to his magic. She felt whispers of his quiet power tingle through her limbs, drawing on her own mana, leaving them both weightless and leaden all in one.

Time lost any meaning as the world around her lost its definition, shadows melting into the darkness. All that remained was the intensity of Solas’s presence, his energy, bending and twisting the air around them as it reached for her own crackling and writhing light, emanating from her skin like the white shimmer of distant stars. She felt as though every cell within her body connected with his, oscillating with a whole new power all their own. His touch not only brushed her skin, but her memories, her fears, her desires.

Fen’Harel…

She only prayed she wouldn’t wake up.

[gotelfed-blog]

Flash Fiction Challenge

Finally sat down for this xD Write something in 5 minutes [got a little longer] with no editing. Tagged by @theindomitable-ladymal. Thank you! :3 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Why Mythal?", Solas's question lingered between them like a chasm , and Daiya studied him carefully. Daiya was surprised Solas even recognized her Vallasalin. He held much contempt towards the Dalish, and his abundant knowledge about them bemused her. The question made her stir uncomfortably; despite their blooming friendship, this was not an issue she wanted to present to his mocking attitude, and he quickly recognized her hesitation. "I did not ask to cause you distress, lethallan", a gentle hum in his words, "If it is something you wish not to share, I understand". A small smile played on her lips, his tender kindness tugging at a part of her core. "I was simply surprised you recognized the markings", she teased, "as you seem to disapprove of my customs". He frowned at the statement, a crease forming over his nose. "I do. But you cannot condemn an idea you are unfamiliar with. Nor can you change anything without understanding", his voice calm despite his grimace, "a lesson the Dalish would be wise to learn". Now it was Daiya's turn to scowl, but she kept her mouth shut. She knew he was right - the Dalish were quick to judge. The knowledge Solas shared with her in those few short months proved invaluably insightful, more so than anything she knew before; Blasphemous, perhaps, but she was never god-fearing; quite the opposite. She observed him a moment longer as his anger softened and turned into a sad smile. "I choose Mythal for… what she stands for". He looked slightly troubled when he asked "And what does she stand for?". Daiya steeled herself, fixating her gaze on his - as if she could, by will alone, make him understand that this is not a topic for jesting or scrutinizing. "She is a protector. She is a voice of reason and contemplation, being both fierce and gentle. I find these qualities are worthy of admiration. I choose her Vallasalin in the hope of being like the stories make her to be". It seemed her answer stunned him – his brows shot up, his lips moving to form words though none materialized. "I…", he began, and a weary sigh escaped her lips. "If you are about to tell me it is a foolish dalish custom, then please…". He looked at her for a long moment before averting his gaze, eyes filled with pain that puzzled her. "No", he finally replied, "I will not". *~*~*~*~*~*~* I was thinking about writing some playful flirting, but I think i’ll wait for Friday fluff/Saturday smut >v>

[elfroottales]

I just had an awful thought..what if we get the romance plot back full force BUT 

the only way to save the  Inquisitor’s life is for Solas to die?

(Ooor give up his godhood and become a normal elf period but we all know Bio loves their life or death stakes over a happily almost ever after)

[anabelreinaart]

Halloween comes Dragonageish... I'm doing Solas's route and I have all the feels since the beginning...so I decided to come with something for this Halloween based on Solas.

[hellyeahdragonage]

Solas: I love you

Lavellan:

[gotelfed-blog]

Playing with a Shadow

Daiya could hear the canine visitor before she saw her; she stalked from behind a low bush at the edge of the camp, its light brown colored head peeking with curiosity. This wasn't the first visit the little fennec paid to their encampment; in fact, to her great surprise, it has been a whole week that this particular one followed them around the Hinterlands. Daiya smiled, continuing her work on the nearly boiling stew. She knew it will come closer to demand her affection, when it grows a little hungrier.

Solas, who sat beside her as silent company, noticed the fennec as well. "Strange. Do they usually behave like this? ", he asked quietly. Nodding, she hummed. "They do try to get scraps, when they can, though following us around so intently…", her sentence trailed off as she picked a bundle of herbs and sprinkled them over the stew. From the corner of her eye, she could see Solas ogling her; it was hard not to notice the extent of attention he lavished her with.

The fennec peeped, disrupting her train of thought, and skipped happily toward them. Placing the remaining herbs aside, Daiya grabbed a piece of ram meat as preparation for their little 'ritual': even though the fennec already trusted her enough to lay in her lap, she refused to come closer without some coxing; Stopping at a few meters away the fennec sat, cooing. Daiya offered her hand forward, wiggling the meat. "Come on", she said lovingly, "I know you're hungry". The fennec squealed, approvingly it seemed, as it came closer with small steps until it snatched the piece and ecstatically ran around the two elves, chittering, before it stopped to gulp the meat down.

The warm sound of Solas's laughter surprised her, and she turned to face him. "Want to give it a try?", she grinned. "I wouldn't want to interrupt the two of you", he replied when the fit of laughter calmed, "it is quite endearing to watch". Despite herself, Daiya snickered. "First I'm graceful, and now endearing. You flatter me". "Perhaps", the warmness in his eyes making a subtle blush run through her cheeks.

'What is the matter with you', she scolded herself as she averted her gaze from him. She felt slightly guilty at the fact the two of them got so close so quickly. Not that he gave any signs he was interested in anything more than her friendship, as she assumed the mutual flirting was a way of playfulness they both enjoyed. It simply felt odd to have intimacy in a relationship with a man since Taren's death. Just the thought of Taren made her swallow hard on the cluster of tears strangling her throat. It has been three years, true, but still… She missed him – her best friend, her lover, her… Forcefully pushing the thought aside, she picked up another strap of meat, inviting the fennec to come closer again. It peeped happily, picking at the strap before settling in her lap.

"I thought about coaxing her to come back with us to Haven", she mused out-loud. "She is a wild animal. Are you sure that is wise?". Daiya snorted, pointing at the curling fennec. "This seems wild to you?". "Well…", he shrugged, and she gestured with her hand to stop him. "I know it is wrong to take an animal from its natural habitat... But… it is selfish, I suppose, but I feel a connection with her" She buried her fingers in the fennec's soft fur, and it cooed again; "It seems she got attached as well".   They sat in silence for a while, when suddenly Solas scooted closer, his knee scraping hers briefly; she found their occasional physical closeness relaxing, in spite of the knot forming in her abdomen. She liked having him close - even if she was not quite ready to accept it. "Have you thought of a name?" he asked. She considered the question, brushing the fennec's brown fur. Then an idea sparkled in her mind.

"Banal'ras", she stated, the word rolling off of her tongue affectionately.   "Ah", he extended his hand to pet the fennec's head, "Considering the circumstances, it is a fitting name". The fennec glanced at them with dark brown eyes, as if she recognized the topic of discussion, voicing a short and content chirping.

***

His initial criticism about Daiya's decision to keep the fennec was slowly fading away. The lonesome elven huntress seemed a little calmer, the gleam in her sapphire eyes was warmer, her smile wider as her petite companion followed her around Haven; It seemed like she restored a part of herself, one that was lost in the chaos of recent events. Solas was content at the change in her, a part of his guilt dissolving.

The fact that the fennec turned to be a mischievous thing was partially contributing to his approval. Not once Banal'ras was caught by one of the Herald's inner-circle, chewing her way through a precious item, "borrowing" a piece of clothing or simply demanding attention in the most creative of ways. This lazy afternoon seemed to be a temporary truce in her impish behavior, when a faint sound of scratching from somewhere behind the wooden door caught his attention.

Setting the tome he was sifting through aside and getting up, Solas approached the cabin's door and opened it; a brown fluffy tail dashed in, cowering under the wooden bench he just left. "Well. What have you done this time?", he asked, amused. The fennec peeped, lowering its head to the floor and peeking at him with her large sparkling eyes, as if she was trying to look as innocent as she can be. Closing the door, he approached the bench, crouching to get a better look at the animal hiding underneath. "As long as you'll be quiet", he stated calmly, a hint of his amusement playing on his lips, "I promise to keep you hidden". The fennec let out a low chitter, and he grinned. "A deal it is, then". Pulling on the blanket he placed atop the bench, he managed to cover its lower arch – completely sheltering the fennec's hideaway. Taking his place again, he opened the tome and waited for whatever trouble to come.

Loud metal clanking and the crunching sound of snow being stepped on informed of someone approaching. "Are you sure it went this way?", the Seeker's voice was questioning, skeptic. "Aren’t you supposed to be better suited at finding things, Seeker?", a woman's voice fumed, one he quickly recognized as the First Enchanter's. "It stole your robe, Viviane", Cassandra grumbled. "And nipped on your book", Viviane snapped. Solas couldn't help but chuckle as an awkward silence stretched between the two women, one that was soon disrupted by the Seeker as she opened the cabin's door.

Her face softened a little when she spotted him sitting on the bench; "Ah. Solas. Have you seen Daiya's fennec? We are at a loss". Viviane's head glanced inside before voicing a low grunt, turning her head in disinterest. He closed the tome on his lap, trying to look as casual as he can. "I am afraid not". "Oh", she replied, looking quite disappointed. "Thank you, then".  

The door closed, and a few quiet moments passed before the fennec's head peered, the blanket falling atop her head and completely covering her large ears.   Only a few moments passed, before the fennec jumped up to curl on his lap – bashing the tome aside.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This is dedicated to my own Banal’ras (Shadow in elven), my dog. She passed away this July. She was 14. A vet we went to gave her the wrong pill for her heart condition... and she died. I can’t put into words how much I miss her, and how guilty I feel for her passing.  It might be selfish, absurd or.. I don’t know. it was hard to write this, but I will keep intertwining her in Daiya’s story. I want to create a place that allows me to keep her memory alive.

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Want to read more? Daiya Lavellan Masterlist.