solas is a (harellan) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-01-16 15:44:00 |
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True to her word, Evelyn was waiting for him. She had know the little village well but it was still startling to see the difference a decade made – would make. The tiny hamlet was even smaller but the people less weary. Their lands hadn’t yet been overrun by a war nor were they inundated by refugees. It was peaceful. Relaxing, almost. One couldn’t completely relax when one was in hiding. Apostate Evelyn Trevelyan, how she never thought she would be in this position. In her defense, waking up from a near death experience in the past couldn’t be predicted but still she couldn’t help a thrum of uneasiness in her as she moved through the land. The staff had to be left in a nearby cave she had slept in the night before, no sense in alerting any curious and wary villagers and though her hand was bare, she had enough control over her mark to keep it from glowing. She was thankful for the lack of rifts, if only so it wouldn’t set off her hand like a beacon for any templar to see. So under the shade of a tree she sat, her strange new book in her lap as she waited for Solas. As she flipped through the pages, her eyes rose to occasionally check the road for his familiar face, or what she hoped was familiar. Truly, it was no matter. She was sure she could feel his presence, that distinct signature of his magic, a mile away. She wondered if he would recognize hers. Her clothes, thankfully and mysterious clean of the blood that had spilled at Haven but not completely void of dirt, were unimpressive, a simple pair of trousers and a long coat. Her dark hair fell as she ducked her head, obscuring her face, but the power of the mark was harder to disguise from anyone who was attuned to the magic. For mages, it was better than a simple wave of hello. He felt the Anchor long before he saw the woman who claimed to wield it. Solas made his way swiftly through the forests, half sliding down a rocky slope into the village proper. He didn’t take the main roads, too used to slipping by towns and hamlets unnoticed. Following the Anchor’s pull, he approached her slowly, quietly, his bare feet silent on the ground. A human woman, one brimming with magic. The Fade clung to her, the Veil pressing eagerly against her as though she was cherished. His eyes flickered to her left hand, but it was covered by a glove. Still, there was no mistaking the Anchor’s distinct flavor. He could never mistake that magic. Never. “Evelyn,” he said as he came to a stop beside her. Like her, he was without his staff. It was tucked away, safely hidden. He opened his mouth again to offer introductions, and then realized it was pointless. She knew him, though he didn’t know her. “If I may be so bold,” he said instead, extending his hand to her, “I would like to confirm that you bear the mark.” It was possible she had the Inquisitor bound and gagged somewhere near by. It was possible she was some kind of imposter. A quick glance at her hand would do away with possibilities, and he could examine the Anchor more leisurely when they were somewhere the templars were not. “Of course you do.” Her smile was small, but warm. He might have doubted that he was like the Solas she knew but that matter of fact inquisitiveness he had of all things magical hadn’t changed. Setting aside the book she spared a glance behind him to see if anyone was looking. In truth, a few were, but only for the oddity of the strangers. A new and unknown human traveler meeting and a new elven one coming to talk at the crossroads. It was strange enough to garner a glance, but little more than that. Tugging off her glove, one finger at a time, she unfurled her hand to him. The mark was there, none of the usual glowing green. But the magic. The magic pulsed as her palm opened, magic coiling in preparation for a release, making her frown as her attention centered on keeping it at bay. Then it stilled, quiet and calm, and she looked up at him for a reaction as she held her hand out to him. The smile surprised him. Lavellan rarely smiled, unless she was waist-deep in viscera. He might have appreciated Inquisitor’s Lavellan’s taste in his youth, but no longer. Her penchant for bloodshed and senseless violence discomfited him. Pushing thoughts of his own Inquisitor from his mind, he took Evelyn’s hand gently in his, his fingers curling loosely around her wrist. And there, slashed across her palm, was the scar left by the Anchor. “Remarkable,” he murmured, stunned by the ramifications of its presence. By the possibilities it represented. Releasing her, he clasped his hands behind his back and took a polite step back. “Come, then, Inquisitor,” he said briskly. “I shall show you the way out of our world and into the larger ones beyond.” His lips quirked up. “It is… fascinating. I suspect you will enjoy it.” His hand held her wrist and her fingers brushed his, tips finding his pulse and finding the mark soon settled into a rhythm to mirror it. “Isn’t it?” Multiple worlds, time travel, remarkable was certainly one way to put it. One of the nicer ways at least. When he pulled back let her go she quietly tugged back on the glove, still ruminating over all that he said. The idea that she would enjoy it made her quirk a dark brow. “Would I? You don’t know much about me.” Not that she knew much about this Solas, or even, her Solas. The elf had been much of a mystery back in Haven, though he seemed pleased that she would come talk to him. In part, she wondered if he enjoyed having a captive audience more than that she was curious enough to ask her questions. It mattered very little. As she made her rounds in the area she always made it a point to talk to all of her newfound companions, and her conversations on magic with Solas had always been interesting ones. The fact that he looked much as he did in her world boded well that perhaps he might act the same. “So. Fascinating. What is the world like?” Questions, she found with Solas, were usually a way to get in his good graces. A soft chuckle escaped him. “A fair point,” he admitted, giving her a slight nod of deference. “But you did come here, alone, as a mage. You have some sense of adventure, that much is clear.” He turned slightly, indicating she should follow him, and began leading her away from the Crossroads. There were exits tucked throughout the Hinterlands, if one knew where to look, most of them, he’d found, tied up in areas where rifts would one day form. He felt the exists like he’d felt Max and McKendrick: heavy weights straining against the fabric of the world, pulling it tight across his skin until the Fade left tingles on his flesh. “Which one?” he inquired as they walked, his eyes lighting in silent approval of her curiosity. “The first I went to appears to be populated exclusively by humans, though there are some anomalies. Mutants, they call themselves. It is… otherwise difficult to explain. Buildings as tall as trees, made of a metal stronger than silverite. Mechanical carriages that speed down thoroughfares paved not with stone but something they call pavement. I have yet to dream there, though I should like to find the time and a safe enough place. The memories of that world will surely be…” He made a quiet sound of delight. “Riveting.” Idly, he plucked the leaves off an elfroot plant as they passed it by, tucking the greens into one of his pouches. Old habits died hard. “And your world? Your Thedas? Have you yet traveled to Adamant? Have you reached Skyhold?” He tipped his head to one side to watch her as they walked up a steep incline. She couldn’t picture it. It all sounded too inconceivable. Too magnificent. Too strange and wonderful. “I have to go see it.” There were no two ways about it. Evelyn had often traveled, her family name and good standing in her circle allowed her a freedom most mages didn’t possess. Her (albeit short) stint as Inquisitor had only furthered that curiosity and wanderlust. There were places to see and nothing to stop her. There was danger, of course, but when wasn’t there. She wished to see this riveting world. The rest of his words had her shaking her head. Adamant? “Skyhold? What is that?” Somewhere important, perhaps. It sounded like an important place and she mentally added to her ever growing list. There were maps she had and mentions of places she needed to see but there was always something more pressing. Supplies had to be secured, so keys had to wait. Alliances had to be made, so treasure maps would take a back seat. She walked with steady steps, though she wobbled once without her staff and she cast a glance to the distant right where she had camped in a cave. “We’ll need to get my staff.” She pointed. She wasn’t sure where they were going but if it was a while, they needed to stop for it. She refused to continue to feel naked without it. Another man might have gone still at her question. She didn’t know Skyhold. He hadn’t led her there - or the him in her version of Thedas hadn’t led her there - and he wondered why, wondered what that might mean. “Forgive me. I should have begun with something else.” A tense smile flitted across his face. “What were you doing when you suddenly found yourself out of time, Inquisitor?” It was surprisingly easy to call her by that title, as if he were slipping into a familiar mold meant for the two of them. She bore the mark; there was nothing and no one else she could be. Except, he realized, she hadn’t yet reached Skyhold. And then she wasn’t the Inquisitor at all. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Calling her Inquisitor came much more easily to him than Herald. It always had. “By all means, lead the way to your staff. Mine waits near the doorway.” “Dying,” she said with a gentle peal of laughter. Not that dying was a particularly funny past time, but the ridiculousness of their situation was catching up to her. A little laugh wouldn’t hurt. She had blinked softly in confusion at the title, too used to still being called Herald or Mage or simply Lady. But he wasn’t making light of it and she brushed past it as well, and reached out to tug on his sleeve as she lead them down the soft side of the hill they had just climbed. “We escaped Haven through the mountains.” She couldn’t help but cast a glance in that direction, too far to even see the small village but still turning toward the familiar all the same. “I had been trying to reach them for… Maker, who knows how long I was out in the snow. It felt like years.” Just thinking of it once more made a shiver roll through her and she shook her head free of the thoughts, tucking back and errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t walk forever. Not like that. I must have eventually passed out. When I came to I was here.” She gestured to the world around them. “I took refuge in the cave once I realized I wasn’t back where I should be. I’m still not entire sure what is going on. I just wish I knew what happened to everyone.” Uncertainty made her worry her lip with her teeth, her brow drawn and her eyes troubled. “If they made it somewhere safe and sound.” The touch startled him slightly. He wasn’t used to any kind of contact, casual or otherwise, and he realized, quite suddenly and completely, how entirely different Evelyn was from Lavellan. It was strange that a single touch could make that clear, but it did. “Yes, I remember that,” he said softly, his voice pitched low. “Cullen and Cassandra would have found you eventually and brought you to our camp. Your sacrifice allowed the people of Haven, the fledgling Inquisition, to escape from Corypheus. Because of you, they survive.” He fell silent, pensive. Until they discovered whether or not they could return to their respective worlds, it would be best to say as little as possible. To reveal as little as possible. She needed the freedom to choose her own future, and he didn’t want the uncertainty of improbable tomorrows to hang over her. He would keep his peace about Adamant and the Fade, about the Wilds. “They did?” Her relief was immediate, the dark shadow lifting from her face as her voice rose with hope. “Thank the Maker. I was wor—and poor Chancellor Roderick was in such a state. Did--” She cut herself off again with another shake, this time fond. No sense in worrying about everyone now, not when she was so far away. Solas said they survived. The details didn’t matter. “I’m so very glad.” An easy silence settled between them before they found themselves getting closer to her cave. The area around them quiet, she was glad to see it didn’t “I take it this Skyhold is in my future then? You still haven’t told me what it is. Or is it best left unsaid?” She supposed it was it. Leliana hadn’t said much in Redcliffe, not that it was anything easy to say, but perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps knowing too much would upset whatever delicate balance the universe had set before them. She could only shake her head. “Tell me of your Herald then. You said she was elven?” An elf being called a Herald. She could only imagine what that was like. He considered her question. “I don’t believe there is any harm in speaking of Skyhold in a general sense. It is the place the Inquisition calls home. You will lead your people there after you recover from your ordeals.” His brows drew together and he muttered in Elvish. “Forgive me, that is not the correct verb tense, but the common tongue lacks the nuance to describe it.” A dry chuckle escaped him and he shook his head slowly. “I would not call her mine. Lavellan simply is. She is a force, like a hurricane or a tsunami. There is no stopping her. She is… rash, impetuous.” The draw of his brows became dark, almost brooding. His expression made it clear he didn’t approve of her. “It has been years since the humans lifted one of the People so high, and with her every choice she proves to them why they should never follow an elf again.” His words were bitter and more than a little sad. “But that is no matter. She is not here, and you are. You are a mage. One of great skill. It is obvious from your aura.” He gestured toward her, a sweeping motion with his hand. “Tell me, what schools do you study? Where are your interests and strengths?” Evelyn’s expression was troubled as he spoke of this Lavellan. She hadn’t sounded so terrible. A force of nature wasn’t always such a terrible thing. She thought of Cassandra much the same way. Bull in his more forceful moments. Even Vivienne. But the picture he continued to paint wasn’t a kind one, and she couldn’t help but feel for everyone who had to follow such a leader. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her words carried easily now they were at the mouth of the cave and no other sounds of the world to interrupt them. At least the shift in conversation turned to lighter topics, at least as far as she was concerned. “Great skill, hm?” Her lips quirked up in amusement. It was a compliment Solas had paid her once before but she wouldn’t tire of it, and she took it with ease. “Spirit,” she said as she crouched down to collect her things, shaking her staff gently to clean it. “That’s not to say the others aren’t as, ah, interesting. Or flashy. But we mages always tend to favor one or two over the others, don’t we?” She gave him a wry smile as set her staff upright and ventured back out of the cave. “I used to talk about it with you. You and Vivienne, actually. She and I had been circling around the idea of my narrowing my focus towards the path Knight Enchanters take, though we hadn’t the time.” She was struck by the confession, one she had been meaning to broach with Solas in her time, and she nervously ducked her chin. “I had wanted to ask your opinion on the matter, actually. To see if you agreed or if you thought I might be better suited to your discipline. Dorian, I’m sure, would be heartbroken that I haven’t given much thought to his.” She could just imagine the wounded look he would give her. If she ever saw him again, that is. Her apology caught him off guard, though he hid it well. Empathy from a human was always surprising. It wasn’t unwelcome, just strange. He was grateful that she allowed him to redirect the conversation toward her own skill, unsure how he might have continued if she did not. “That we do,” he agreed with a small smile, watching her collect her things. She moved differently than his Lavellan. Not as smoothly or deliberately but still with grace. Perhaps she had purpose in her movements while Lavellan had only impulse. “The Knight-Enchanters?” His brows rose. “If I am not mistake, their techniques descend from those of ancient elven mages called arcane warriors. The formal name for it was dirth’ena enasalin, knowledge that led to victory. Mages who eschewed physical confrontation called it ghilan’him banal’vhen, the path that leads astray. They served as bodyguards or champions for nobles and were the living embodiment of will made manifest, mind shaping the body into the perfect living weapon.” For a moment, he was silent, considering her and what he knew of the arcane warriors. She had the build for it, but he couldn’t say if she had the will. Time would reveal that. “Dorian is a skilled necromancer, but it is best to let the dead rest where they have fallen. It does no good to make spirits dance to old memories against their will.” Her smile only deepened. Of course Solas would know all about the ancient elven roots of modern Thedosian magic. Of course. But far from being less than thrilled she soaked it up, enjoying the lesson and the familiarity of the moment all at once. “Well, it’s not as if he makes them dance much. We haven’t any music,” she teased, though she tugged at him gently with nimble fingers and set them back out and away from the cave. “Should I take it you approve? I half expected you to say your way is better. Solas—my Solas, that is, I always wondered if he would have suggested I study the way of rifts as he did. He—you… Andraste isn’t this confusing.” She broke her thought with another laugh before marching on. “You’re quite skilled. It’s clear you take pride in your spellcraft and you make it seem so effortless. I wondered if you would scoff at my love of spirit blades.” She practically sighed dreamily as she thought one being able to wield one. Again, he was startled by her good nature. By her teasing. She was nothing like Lavellan - and he needed to stop comparing them. Drawing parallels between them was useless. It did neither woman any favors. With a dry chuckle, he gestured for her to follow him once more, leading her back toward the ruin where a rift would be in ten years. “I imagine he and I were very much the same creature until this happened. Think of us as the same person, if it eases your mind. As for rift magic, it is an esoteric field of study. But the wise can better themselves even in the midst of battle. Perhaps especially then.” He slanted a look her way that was light with amusement. “Your choice affords you that opportunity.” For a moment, he was silent. “I thank you for your compliment, however, and look forward to see your own skill. It is a rare mage who wishes to burden herself with armor and fight in the thick of things.” It was a compliment, in its own way, perhaps backhanded on the surface but not meant to be so. He was intrigued by her interests - and impressed. “Should you ever wish to discuss the finer points of theory, I would be happy to engage you.” He shuffled down a rocky slope. At the bottom, he paused and held his hand out to her. “Watch your footing. The rocks here are slippery, and I would not wish to be responsible for your untimely demise, Herald.” He approved and another weight lifted off her shoulders. She took the compliment for what it was, quite used to Solas’, ah, flavor of flattery. “You say this now but you don’t know how carried away I will be. Or perhaps, I should spare that warning for everyone else. I’ve had quite a few long conversations with you about magic before.” As he offered her his hand, Evelyn took it, grasping it tightly as she steadied herself on their climb. “Please, just call me Evelyn. I’ve been trying to get everyone to stop calling me Herald for ages now. You have no excuse now that we are just meeting.” “On the contrary, I would welcome such conversations,” he said, helping her down the slope. He felt the crackle of the Anchor even through the leather of her glove. It nipped and bit at him, and it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. “I merely hope they won’t bore you, as I imagine you’ll have to cover the same ground with me that you have before.” When her feet found solid purchase, he released her and took the lead once more. His staff was halfway up the next rise, and he lifted it from its hiding place in a single, graceful motion. “I will do my best, Inquisitor,” he said, “but you are who and what you are. It would be a disservice to you not to recognize that.” He climbed the rest of the rise and led her down what remained of a broken causeway, stopping at the shattered end of it. “Here,” he said, lifting his hand and letting his fingers catch on the thin lines of the Veil. “The Fade presses close. Can you feel it, tingling against your skin?” “Evelyn,” she reminded him again with a cheeky smile. “I was Evelyn before I was a Herald, and I will be an Evelyn long after. But you keep calling me Inquisitor. Is that what they call me later?” It was the last of her curiosity about the future, or at least the last she would voice it. It felt innocuous enough to ask. “Am I truly the leader in the end? Not--not Cassandra?” It sounded so strange. It was the Seeker who pulled her out and set her free. Who called the Inquisition into formation. Would she not be the Inquisitor instead? The thought fled her as they stopped, and she paused a moment to still her mind as she reached out to feel the Fade as he said. She felt its presence as she once did, the thrum of power and magic and she quickly tugged off her gloves, wanting to feel it on her bare skin as she so easily did before. “To think a rift will open here one day.” Everything felt so peaceful now. She worried they were going to disturb it and yet her hand still rose, fingers dancing along the edges of the Fade. “Not Cassandra,” he said, and resolved to say no more. Calling her the Inquisitor was bad enough. So Evelyn she would have to be. He watched her, silent and curious. She was so composed. So quietly confident. She exuded a presence, a natural aura of command, but it was a gentle thing. It deserved respect. She was the kind of person the Inquisition needed: clearly kind and thoughtful. “One day. But not today.” Without much thought, he took her wrist in his hand, like he must have the first time she sealed a rift, and pressed her palm against the place where the Veil was at its thinnest. “This is what you must search for, this feeling, as though someone has dropped a weight into the very fabric of the world. These dips and divots are doorways. There are many, some harder to find than others, but you should not struggle to find them now that you know what to look for.” He released her hand and stepped to the side. “Reach into the Fade and pull, just like you would pull on a door.” She could have laughed at how familiar this was, Solas grabbing her hand and pressing her mark to the Fade. Instead she merely gave a squeak of surprise but otherwise didn’t resist. Her eyes fluttered closed, a foolish thing except she knew there was no danger now that he was there and the rifts would not open. Her mark brushed against against the thin barrier and she sighed, etching the sensation of strange reality in her mind. He made it sound so easy and when she opened her eyes, it was to toss him a look, equal parts incredulity and amusement. Reach for a door. Pull. “But what awaits me on the otherside?” It wasn’t fear that laced her voice but pure and unfettered curiosity. There was a world to explore and things to learn. She would never shy from that. He gave her a wry smile, knowing but amused. “Adventure, Evelyn,” he said. “Open it so I know that you’re proficient.” He spoke the words like a teacher would to a pupil. His brow rose, but the expression held no hint of mockery. Just that same amusement and a light bit of teasing. It had been so long since he’d last teased someone. He’d been teased, certainly, by nearly everyone in the Inquisition, and it had never seemed right to be playful with Lavellan. But there was an easiness to Evelyn, a warmth that invited him to be more of himself. Now that was a tone she knew very well, and the indignation she tossed his way was playful and over the top, a small misdirection as she raised her hand, her other gripping her staff. Her eyes unfocused, her attention elsewhere as her mind sought the Fade. There it was again, the thin barrier, the whisper of power. Reaching inside herself she felt her own power flare out, reaching, reaching and, as he said, pulling. Or rather, she ended up pushing. Her eyes snapped shut, the force of the push shocking her and knocking a gasp from her lungs. She had only a split second to grasp Solas’ hand, her staff pressing awkwardly into the top of his as she pulled him to her and held him tight. And then in the next moment, she was standing in a hallway. Her steps were a stumble as she found solid ground once more and wide eyes took in her surroundings. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting - especially when he said adventure - but this wasn’t what she had in mind. He choked on a wheeze when she pushed. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t surprised at all. His hand in hers, he found himself yanked through the fabric of the worlds. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation anymore, not after the sheer number of journeys he’d made on his own. Still, it took him a moment to orient himself as she stumbled. Releasing her hand, he stepped away from her, settling his staff on the carpeted floor and leaning against it, lips quirked. This was exhilarating, this sharing of something new with one of his own. She wasn’t of the People, but she was a mage and she was Thedosian and that was more than anyone else could offer him. “Welcome to Passages,” he said, gesturing grandly to the stretch of hallway. “It’s a hotel - something akin to an inn, but significantly larger. Each door leads to its own world.” He grinned at her, expression mischievous. “And I have yet to encounter templars in any of them. Come. I will show you the one I discovered earlier.” The small lift of his lips was telling. He wasn’t scolding her. This was good. This was perfect. “A hotel,” she murmured, testing the way the word warped around her mouth. With her staff righted, she looked down the corridors he gestured to. Dusty and worn, it was strange and wonderful to behold, different and yet not so much so as the occasional ruins they stumbled across. When she turned back to him, she was surprised to see such mischief on his face, but not so surprised when she felt her features mirror his. “Lead the way,” she said, the excitement building in her voice and lighting her face. |