|solas is a (harellan) wrote in rooms,|
@ 2015-01-12 15:10:00
|Entry tags:||!marvel comics, *log, dylan mckendrick, max main, solas|
Log: Max and Solas
Who: Max and Solas
Where: Max's Flower Shop
What: Old dogs learning new tricks, mostly
|They looked at him strangely, the humans all around him. Their eyes caught on his ears and then his robes, the ancient ones the Inquisitor found for him in the Dirth, and Solas wasn't sure if the humans were reacting out of shock or disgust or something else. There were, he reflected as he wove between them, many more humans here was than there were back home. |
The Veil felt different, too. Or, rather, there was no Veil. The Fade was distant, but he could still reach out and touch his mana, manipulating the etheric energies all around him with ease. He cast a barrier over himself as he walked, his ears flattening against his head in distaste. The air tasted foul, the people were loud and raucous, and strange carts lurched down the bizarre roadways. The stone under his feet was harder than any he was used to, unnatural and aggravating. More than once, he stepped into something sticky, and he tried not to think about it. It was, he told himself, not any different than walking through one of the human cities in Thedas.
Except it was much different, completely foreign in every conceivable way.
Forcing himself to take shallow breaths, he paused on the corner of the street, searching for any haven. Outwardly, he appeared as he always did: calm, composed, reserved. Perhaps somewhat haughty. The humans peered at him like he was a curiosity, and he bore their scrutiny with apparent ease. Inside, his thoughts roiled, recoiled, twisted, seethed.
He needed to find someone who understood this place and how he had come to it. He needed someone who could direct him home, back to the Thedas that wasn't his Thedas.
His eyes caught on a small shop nearby, flowers in the windows. The arrangements reminded him of the Graves. Following the flow of people across the street, moving only when they did, he opened the door to the shop and stepped inside. The scent of clean and green things filled his nose, and his posture shifted just slightly, his shoulders relaxing and his tension easing. This was familiar. This was safe.