Fadestrider

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March 3rd, 2019




Gender: Male

Age: 23
Country: United States

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October 06, 2017


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01/31/2019 01:57 PM 

When Doubt Won
Current mood:  accomplished

Disclaimer : This is a modern piece that takes place in the Modern Mortal Waking Realm. Hence, Solas has finished his confrontations in Trespasser and has moved on in search of the Idol (*Red Lyrium object from DA2) as well as what little magic he can cling to, in this new world. The struggle for a mage who pulls his elements from unknown sources --and still learning of those limits-- can be a challenging one. In a short summary to this, Solas is confronting his employer about some disturbing information that he has uncovered over the last month.







“He will see you in just a minute.” The housekeeper told Solas and closed the door to the study.

Solas was left to look around the room he had barged his way into. At first he wasn’t going to have been invited in but Solas was angry and he insisted to speak with Mr.Eisenhosfer on a personal matter. He threatened not to leave the premises until he had said his peace, and after some mild arguing over an intercom from the mansion’s door, Mr.Eisenhosfer had finally gave the housekeeper permission to allow Solas inside.

He followed the woman to the this room, where the very definition of a distinguished gentleman hung in broad colors of neutral and green. There were stuffed animals on the wall, deer heads, squirrels jumping in mid-air towards another branch, fish mounted in curved jumps, and ducks with their wings spread outward. It was a sight that Solas couldn’t look at without wondering if the souls of that wildlife had received any proper blessing. For some odd reason, the thought for a brief moment of Andruil, and of what she would have said or possibly done. What would a proud Huntress think such display. Would she approve? Would she sneer or laugh? Any outcome would have been probable coming from her because Andruil was unpredictable.

There was a fireplace at the far left side of the room from where Solas had walked inside and at the far right there had been Mr.Eisenhosfer’s work desk. Behind it were large windows that reached from the ceiling to the floor. The curtains were drawn back to allow the moonlight inside. Right across from where Solas had walked inside, was a large bookcase that nearly covered the entire wall. Books that only a pristine scholar from Harvard would have possibly read filled the shelves and mingled with political propaganda, mental disorders, and plagues from a generation Solas had never researched. From the wall next to Solas and leading towards the doorway had looked more like an opened bar. In contrast to the nose-to-grindstone study shelf, the bar shelf was filled all forms of alcohol,more prized trophies of jewelry, busts of people Solas did not know, and tiny sarcophagi that resemble miniaturized representations of ancient resting coffins to Egyption Pharaohs.

As he moved across the green carpet Solas could feel the energies of the room soaking in quickly through the holes at the bottom of his shoes. He could feel the soft carpet indentations from where furniture had been moved around the room often. The hard work of a man who spent his life chasing after fabled tales and struggling with living up to the expectations of his family. There was a similarity in that understanding Solas had not cared for in the slightest. He reassured himself quickly that he was nothing like this human. The thought made him sneer and he reached for the nearest interesting looking alcohol bottle and tumbler glass. Solas poured himself a drink and placed the opened bottle on the desk. Just as he was in mid-drink, he heard the door open behind him but Solas hasn’t turned around.

“Please! Pour yourself a drink, Solas. Care to prop your feet up on my desk too?” Mr.Eisenhosfer’s voice spoke practically dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ll stand, thank you.” Solas remarked and took another long drink before pouring the next one. He didn’t care for the taste, but he drank another anyway just to stake his claim that he wouldn’t be intimidated.

“Solas… It’s eleven thirty.” Mr.Eisenhosfer sighed as he stepped closer. “Whatever it is, can’t it wait unti--”

“Did you give her that option? To wait?” He questioned him looked back to the bottle to pour him another. “Or did you shove that syringe to her arm as fast as you could fill it?”

Mr.Eisenhosfer tilted his head, and turned slightly as he stopped a few paces away. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I uncovered everything. The tests, the threats--everything you did just to get her to comply to what you demanded--I know about it all.” Solas turned and slammed the empty tumbler glass down to the desk. “I was your friend, Hal. I stood by you, and you made me a fool. How much Red did you give her, Hal?”

He questioned and narrowed his eyes. His elbows pulled back, fists forming towards his sides and Solas snarled even in spite of his false human form. “How much Red did you force into that little girl? Did you even care what would--?”

“So, I took a few shortcuts. We were on a breakthrough.” Mr.Eisenhosfer started to explain and in return, his jaw had also stiffened. “In order to find a cure, it is necessary to study the effects of the disease--”

“There is no cure!” Solas roared much louder.

As if triggering from the shout, the glass along the trophy cases cracked and the pressure within the room had seemed to increase by tenfold. His shadow against the moonlight almost seemed to have grown, and was towering over in a silhouette of disgust.

Mr.Eisenhosfer started to stumble towards his knees. He clutched at his own throat in the desperation of something--to scream; perhaps--but there had been strangely a sudden slacked ability to even breath. It was as if the bubble of air around him had been sucked out of the atmosphere; exchanged for carbon dioxide. This had meant a huge struggling challenge just to breathe. It was then, Mr.Eisenhosfer had seen the bright glow from Solas’s eyes--swallowing out the irises and somehow, he had known then of what danger he welcomed into his home.

“There is no cure…” Solas began more calmly as he walked slowly towards him; towering over the old man choking at his feet.

“Red behaves like a viral parasite. A highly infectious viral parasite that can be contracted through touch, bodily fluids or even through breathing--if its small enough. It’s symptoms are slow and painful; attaching itself to whatever it touches. Red assimilates, penetrates and grows much like a tumor. It targets the brain, the nervous system, and any vital organ it can cling to; making itself impossible to remove without serious and damaging ramifications.”

Solas lowered his head down in a glare towards Mr.Eisenhosfer and watched as he struggled; nearly falling slowly to lay on his stomach. The human’s limbs attempted to flop against the green carpet like a fish that had been plucked from the ocean to gasp in vain.

“And you didn’t care. I checked over her receiving treatment procedure. The track marks in Ashley’s arms. The bruises on her ankles, her wrists... thighs…” Solas continued in his seething bitterness just to watch the human suffer at his feet. He tilted his head as his accusations dripped with verbal poisons.

“...You chained a deranged suicidal child to a padded room and there, you violated her in more ways than the monsters in her nightmares ever could. It was more than malpractice upon her, doctor, it was rape.”

After a moment longer, staring down into the fear that Mr.Eisenhosfer had of him, Solas closed his eyes. The elvhen breathed in for an attempt to calm his nerves. In response, the pressure within the room released and the circulation of air returned swiftly. For the moment, Mr.Eisenhosfer had just staying laying on the floor to breathe. His chest heaved hard and quaking from the strain of previously not being able to receive fresh clean air. The importance of it had never seemed so vital until it was snatched away from him, and Mr.Eisenhosfer wasn’t even certain as to how it was taken away. He couldn’t prove it, and he didn’t know what, but he believed that Solas had done something.

“Give me your hand.” Solas offered to him but his actions were far less comforting than his voice.

He snatched the old man back to his feet with a quick and violent tug, and Solas was more than eager to have his hand free from giving him any aid to begin with. The old man stumbled forward and coughed for air in between straightening up. He looked at Solas, and after the first few moments of trying to speak he found that even then it was becoming slightly of a struggle due to the strain in gathering air for any other purpose than breathing.

“Solas--” He started to mutter.

“Nuva dirthalas, felasil… I’m not going to harm you. You’ve done enough harm to yourself and others.” Solas sneered at him. He looked away then and in a slow march towards the door, he started to make his exit. “Pour yourself a drink, Hal. Go to bed…”

“Solas, I didn’t touch her!” Mr.Eisenhosfer coughed and started to turn after him. Solas rested his hand on the doorknob and stopped a moment to look towards him; giving him the chance to speak his peace. So, he hobbled his way to him in a slump plea to be heard. “Whatever she says; its a lie! Y--You gotta believe me…”

Solas glanced down and his frown hardened even more. It wasn’t even a deciding factor for him on whether or not Mr.Eisenhosfer even really did do anything to Ashley, because it was bad enough that she believed it in her very soul of what was done to her. Aside from that, even the drugs that were injected into her were against her will. No matter how a person looked at it, the actions were unwanted and they were forced onto her, into her, permanently changing her, infecting her, killing her and all of it was covered up by threats that frightened her. Even if she wasn’t physically raped, she certainly was mentally. So, to Solas, it didn’t make much of a difference at all.

He knew he needed to leave his boss’ room before he burned the human alive; and here--there were cameras. The thought still crossed his mind, but no--the elf forced himself not to act. He tried so much to force himself not to care. Caring was what lead to so many worlds hanging in the balance. Solas shouldn’t--couldn’t--care about this injustice. He shouldn’t--couldn’t--act upon that rage. If he did, then Solas felt that he would have learned nothing from his past. Doubt was a terrible challenge to certainty, and it creeped its way in even the signs were obvious.

“Make love to your wife.” Solas muttered to him as he turned away without much any reassurance to Mr.Eisenhosfer, and then started to disappear from behind the door. “She’s the only one willing bend over now.”

01/27/2019 12:07 PM 

Dancing With A Stranger
Current mood:  blissful

Disclaimer : This is a modern piece that takes place in the Modern Mortal Waking Realm. Hence, Solas has finished his confrontations in Trespasser and has moved on in search of the Idol (*Red Lyrium object from DA2) as well as what little magic he can cling to, in this new world. The struggle for a mage who pulls his elements from unknown sources --and still learning of those limits-- can be a challenging one. In a short summary to this, Solas is finally given a chance to relax at a club. He discovers that his secretary, Ms.Cane, has been waiting at the same club for reasons of her own.







The club was filled with the intoxicating sights and sounds of pure sin. This had been what taverns have turned themselves into over the millennia across separate worlds. Everything was just done in excess. Smoke glided across the floor almost in a heavy fog across the dancefloor and pouring towards the bar area. The place was packed with all kinds of people, and everyone had seemed happy. There were girls kissing men and other women while some men were doing some of the same. Sometimes it was difficult to tell who and what people were in the building because it was so dark with strobe lights and black lights used to light the place up.

Not even in the Fade, had Solas seen so many flashing colors in so many brilliant patterns. He had not heard so much laughter and sweet-nothings whispered amongst one another since his times in Ancient Arlathan; though this was a very long time ago. His senses filled with the scents of alcohol, sex, and permeated forms of loosely traced drugs. There was a lot flooding his senses towards ecstacy, and he needed this. After the night he had: from work, going to straight to being possibly thrown into jail for the night, and then suddenly released and informed that the murder case was dropped. He had not even the opportunity to shed the business that he wore. The dark silks and patented leather of the formal attire still clung to him from previous concerns that longed passed. His cologne had long since faded into a far lighter scent as well. So, yes. Solas needed an outlet for his stress. It was not as so much as a need from something requiring a release after a certain building point; but more like something celebratory for it was a small victory--though stressful. A few drinks wouldn’t hurt.

So, there he was, sitting at the bar, sipping the hard whiskey from his glass and soaking in the scandals and merriment around him. In some ways, it felt like home, but it was also so very far away from it. Back in his times of Ancient Arlathan, The People danced all the time. There were plays and costumes involved at specific parties. They’d cover themselves in dirt as to give blessings to the life’s cycle of birth and death. They rubbed and twisted perfumed lime and clay into their hair, making the stiff appearances of dreadlocks and shaved parts of their hair. The nobility had braided hair, but under the rule of Fen’Harel, it didn’t matter what hairstyle was allowed--for he didn’t care; and everyone who wished freedom was free.

In such a place as this, the lack of clothing had strangely been about the same, but it was in a different style. The music was far more electronic than pure acoustics, which in some of the songs, in his opinion, it wasn’t all that bad but he did miss the softer purity of tunes from an instrument. The drinks were sweeter with a stealthy and powerful creep-up that could easily have gotten him far more drunk than he would have liked to be. So, Solas did have to count his intake of alcoholic beverages more often. He actually stuck to the plain Jack Daniel’s whiskey for the time being, and wishing it had been elvhen spirit in his hands instead. On the whole though, it got the job done, warmed the throat and belly, and made his head delightfully spin. He wasn’t one to immediately complain from it.

This had been the first time after two years of coming to this world of dying magic, had Solas even looked at the other forms of entertainment. Naturally, it would have been filled with things far more physical and tangible to the Waking World of its reality as opposed to fluid thoughts, whispers and lucid fantasies that mingled and intertwined with one another. All of it required an adjustment from him.

Down the line alongside of the bar had been occupied with people scattered in separate spaces of barstools. He didn’t have to turn to his right to sense the presence of someone coming in close. Solas chose to ignore it; sipping more on the alcohol and relished in the way it slowly melted his insides.

“I didn’t think this would have been your kind of scene.” Ms.Cane’s voice spoke from over his shoulder.

Solas smiled warmly to the friendly voice that lulled close to his ear. Tilting his whiskey glass a bit further up, he gulped down another quiet swallow. He pondered from a glance past his shoulder to steal a reassurance of who he was anticipating before responding. “...And just what would have been my kind of scene?”

It was just enough extra courage to render his thoughts a bit more loose before turning in his stool to place the glass down. Solas turned, looking towards Ms.Cane and finally took the opportunity for himself to drink in her sight next. He saw that her attire had changed slightly than of what he was use to seeing. She kept the high heels and nude stockings; however the black pencil skirt and white office blouse was changed to a loose flowing cocktail dress that was raised slightly higher to her mid-thighs. The straps and ruffles were covered in black feathers while its centerpiece was pressed in charcoal and blue vitol sequins. Her ears were decorated from her bottom lobe up to the upper rim in a pattern of diamond studs and silver chains. Her neck was graced with a loose silver chain that cradled a silver celtic pendant--which had been a symbol that Solas only recognized from the heavy fanatic that his secretary had been over the design ever since she learned of her “dna origins” last year.

“Oh, I don’t know…” She smiled in return and turned to wave down the bartender. “...I didn’t think you went out at all. Like ever.”

“I have a way of stretching my legs now and then…” He shrugged some in response and watched her slender wrist, dressed by a diamond tennis bracelet, successfully twirl in the correct manner--he supposed--to get the attention she wanted.

“Give me a strawberry daiquiri.” Ms.Cane placed in her order and rested her elbow on the bar counter. “So… How did the questioning at the station go?”

“About as expected, I’d say.” Solas pondered with a glance up at the ceiling. His fingers traced patterns on the side of his tumbler glass. “Everyone’s keeping their jobs. The case was resolved under natural causes, and the only thing left is making the final deal through the company’s insurance.”

“Sounds like it went very well! So, that’s why you’re here.” Ms.Cane exclaimed and reached for her daiquiri.

She downed her drink way too quickly, causing Solas to watch a little in surprise with how fast that she was drinking. Either the alcohol content in a daiquiri was far weaker than what he was currently having, or Ms.Cane really had a desire to ‘take the edge off,’ or so he supposed. He tilted his head and that smile turned slightly more with nervousness as Ms.Cane slapped her hand against the bar and then placed her glass down.

“Ms.Cane?” He started to question and was pulled by the tug of his knees. Her bare hand redirected the steering of his barstool to turn towards the opened floor covered in fog.

“Come on. Let’s dance to celebrate.” She suggested and reached for his tumbler glass next, to pry it loose from his fingers and set it down.

“Dance?” His eyes couldn’t have been wider.

He was glancing towards the small crowd at the dancefloor and then back to Ms.Cane. The form of dancing he saw… Well… Solas didn’t really call it dancing. He called it grinding and humping right in public. Not even in Ancient Arlathan, would have such moves been considered appropriate beyond the bedroom -- unless they were being performed by bondservants and the like. There was no skill to this form of dancing, that even if Solas considered it, and he danced well, he still would have felt way too embarrassed.

“N-No. No--Ms.Cane--” He started to refuse and chased back for the drink that was removed successfully from him.

“Don’t tell me you can’t dance.” She giggled and took his hands, pulling him as she dragged Solas towards the dance floor.

“I can dance--I just can’t dance this--” He attempted to explain but his words were not speaking fast enough.

He wasn’t about to run from her, but he didn’t want to be removed from his chair either. So, Solas was reluctantly pulled into the foggy atmosphere, filled with other similar couples where were clinging to one another. They ground their hips to each other and intertwined loose fingers around one anothers’ clothing. To Solas it felt more like an uncomfortable clothed orgy among strangers. Perhaps at one time, he might have even approved, attempted to move as the people around him did, and let the electronic music of bells and other instruments that he couldn’t name carry his troubled thoughts away.

But not now. That would have been in another life. Another time.

Not that Ms.Cane wasn’t prepared to change his mind! With all of her provocative posings, the way she leaned into him and attempted to sway her form against him, she could have portrayed the sheer image of the wind attempting to seduce the mountain to yield. Such bravoda deserved a certain compliance and in spite of his efforts to seem appeased, Solas had been more than prepared to retreat. He attempted to inch away when he felt her hands grasp his, to pull forward and down to rest at her hips. His grey eyes glanced away, looking towards anything to find interesting except her -- if it was possible.

“I can’t--” He tried to explain quickly.

“Sure you can. Look. You don’t even have to do much. Just sway your hips a little with mine; like this…” She said and moved closer. Her body moved in tune to the rhythm, in tune to his own. “See…?”

She was far too close that his senses were in overload. Solas felt his throat run dry and his sense of balance wanted to fall underneath him. This could not last long. Ms.Cane was human, his secretary, and above all -- someone who was a part of this current world; a world that he had no business being a part of in retrospect. Solas refused to bend much to her guidance, but he didn’t want to hurt feelings either. Instead, he lifted his hands to her shoulders and took a step backwards to create some small space between them.

“Ms.Cane…” He pleaded in getting her attention, finally looking back at her.

“Just this once, can you call me Carol?” She mimicked his tone and pouted her lip at him.

Solas paused, glancing down and then back up at her. He acknowledged that all she was doing was trying to enjoy the night. It might have meant something more from her, but he doubted it. Perhaps she had needed cheering up; because he did take notice that she downed her drink pretty fast earlier. If that had been the case, then of course Solas would have felt guilty--if not obligated--to play the needed part she seemed to almost request of him. However, he couldn’t dance this way.

“My apologies... Carol. Force of habit, I guess.” He gave the excuse as smoothly as he could deliver it, and turned her hand into his hold in a manner he could find himself accustomed to.

He propped his opposite hand behind his back and gave a more proper bow before her. He caught the surprised glimmer in her eyes and accepted it as her knew interest to maybe follow his lead instead. So, without giving further explanations, Solas straightened his back and abruptly pulled her close to him once more. There was a respectable distance maintained between them, but it wasn’t noticeably too terribly. His body remained stiff as he guided her into moving across the floor with him. It was obvious that the dance was far more different than what other others around them had been doing.

“Oh! You prefer the classics. I should have known.” Ms.Cane smiled in delight and glanced around, feeling the eyes of other people looking their way. “Unfortunately, Solas, I don’t believe I can do this.”

“You were the one to drag me to the floor, were you not?” Solas beamed at her with a tease in return. “I had to put up with your bumping and grinding, now it's your turn to put up with mine.”

“Alright, but I’m not responsible for what happens to your toes.” She laughed as he noticeably took a stronger lead.

“Oh, you most certainly are...” He was quick to give a light-hearted argument in return, turning her with him in step to the music. “And I’ll bill you for the damage.”

Ms.Cane gasped at him and before she could retort, Solas pressed his hand to her forearm and pushed her back a few paces. In turn, he stepped back as well, leaving only one grasp of her other hand to remain as their connection. Walking around her and wrapping her form up into his awaiting arm, Solas came closer so that he hugged her from behind. The two then swayed to the music more in a fashion that was almost similar to those around them, but not quite.

“You’re evil.” She remarked over her shoulder to him.

Solas raised an eyebrow at her and loosened his arms around her to rest one hand against her back. “That’s no way to talk to your boss.”

Pushing down on her back, he leaned into her with a guidance to have her bend over in front of him; swaying once from her left and then the right before his wrapping that same arm back around her front, placing his hand towards her throat and guiding her back up. Solas could feel the pulse fluttering underneath the soft pads of his thumb. He could hear the sharp breaths escaping her lips and knew her heart was beating much faster than it was previously. This had been a more appropriate dance suited to him: something that pressed between classical and tribal, and something that required a bit more...emotion thrown in the mixture. Considering how very smoothly she seemed to fall in step, Solas considered himself a good teacher.

“Now, you’re learning.” He smiled near her ear, and spun her spun her away, only to gradually guide her back towards him.

“You should have told me you could dance.” She spoke softer, falling more into step with him across the smoke aligned floor.

“I did.” He responded in kind with a smile.

He watched the way the lights danced over her face like intruding breeches attempting to pull from the Veil itself. It was as terrifying to him as it was beautiful. Gliding across the floor together in a more classical pattern, Solas finally had collected the nerve to ask her what had been weighing on his consciousness.

“Why did you bring me out here?” He spoke upon a turn that took them both across the dance floor.

Ms.Cane glanced down and then back up at him briefly. Her cheeks flushed pale from embarrassment and she shook her head slightly as if almost wanting to avoid the questions. “Ah...I don’t know… My date wasn’t showing up tonight.”

“The cad!” He exclaimed and earned a giggle from her.

“Cad indeed…!” She agreed and smiled brightly for a moment. After a side-glance away, Ms.Cane pouted a little briefly and then looked back to Solas once more. “Oh, well… His loss. Besides. You’re much more fun.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Solas smiled and lifted his hands to spin her once more.

Slightly, he tilted her frame back, only to pull her flush against his body one last time at the song’s ending. Dipping her back into a low bend, Solas posed her there and looked down at the marvel he polished from that plain example of erotic dancing. There, was his pride showing--his canines flashing in a devil’s smile.

“So… My style is better?” He asked upon carefully pulling her back up so that the weight of gravity and balance could adjust itself for her.

“Oh, hell yeah…” Ms.Cane rasped; still attempted in catching her breath as she stood upright to her feet.

She looked up at him completely enamored. Unaware by then the dance floor had cleared to watch them dance, for the moment nothing but them two had seemed to matter. Ms.Cane slid her arms up along his neck and traced patterns onto the back of Solas’ bald head and pulled his head down towards her own. In turn, Solas had looked from her eyes and then towards her lips in a final understanding of what she was attempting. Really, it shouldn’t have been so puzzling, but his mind had been slow from the whiskey and his head was dizzy from more than just dancing.

His eyes closed and their lips had met in an estranged connection. Cold from his execution, but gentle in an attempt to tease and compromise from hers. An image of something bright from his past flashed in the forethought of his mind, Solas immediately pulled his head back from her capture. Reaching up, he grasped one of her hands and slid it down to his cheek instead.

Ms.Cane opened her eyes from abrupt departure. She blinked at him quizzically and then slowly frowned in slight disappointment. “There’s… someone else?”

Solas swallowed uncomfortably and nodded before a final confirmation. “Something like that… Yes.”

“Is it--?” She tilted her head some and watched him lower his head. Ms.Cane sighed with a roll of her eyes. “Christ, Solas… It’s been, what? A year since we’ve worked together? I thought we would have -- well, talked... about -- ...I mean you don’t tell me anything!”

“I’m sorry.” Solas slumped a little and gradually released her.

“No. No, don’t start that because, I came here with someone in mind to being with.” Ms.Cane shrugged and folded her arms. “Wow… I mean wow-- She must be really special.”

“She was.” Solas nodded and felt her eyes following him then. So, he forced a smile and reached up to wrap one arm around her shoulders to guide her back towards the bar. “...Please don’t fret, Carol… I’ll still drink with you. I’ll still dance with you. And when you puke, I’ll help hold your hair back.”

Ms.Cane laughed at him and smacked his chest with the back of her hand as they walked together. Solas knew that she tried to understand him, but there were some things that he could not explain about to anyone in this realm. If there was a moment in his sad journey to catch levity, he would try to grasp it but not at the cost of misleading others in such a manner. Although, in some ways, Solas couldn’t have asked for a better companion in this strange world.

01/25/2019 07:30 PM 

Clearing His Name
Current mood:  contemplative

Disclaimer : This is a modern piece that takes place in the Modern Mortal Waking Realm. Hence, Solas has finished his confrontations in Trespasser and has moved on in search of the Idol (*Red Lyrium object from DA2) as well as what little magic he can cling to, in this new world. The struggle for a mage who pulls his elements from unknown sources --and still learning of those limits-- can be a challenging one. In a short summary to this, he is being interrogated at the local police station. He is briefly considered a suspect for a possible murder investigation that hangs by the thread of one individual.







The room that he sat in was cold and unpleasant. To his left was a false mirror, where he could feel the eyes of other people watching him. He was surrounded by stone, concrete and emptiness. Solas could feel the emotions of many different individuals who had once been here before. The high tension, the sweat and anger from souls both guilty and innocent have sat and collected in the same chair that he was sitting in now.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention and he looked up to see another human walking in through the door. The man wasn’t either of the two officers that brought him here. He looked rather disheveled and stressed from the same case that had been hanging over Solas’ head. His business suit hung over him like a loose curtain. It would have been easily imagined that his shoes were too big for him too. The detective walked in, sifting through loose papers that he was carrying on a clipboard and blindly reached the table that kept him spaces away from Solas.

“Solas….Fadestrider…” He spoke slowly and his nose scrunched a bit in disapproval. “Is that supposed to be some kind of actor’s name?”

“It is mine.” Solas answered quickly; watching him as the man stepped closer. “I took the name for myself.”

“And...you went through the proper channels to have your name changed?” The detective asked him.

“Yes.” Solas answered again. “Although I find this irrelevant to the questioning.”

“We’re trying to determine if your citizenship papers are legitimate.” The detective said and moved towards sitting down.

“My citizenship papers are legitimate, detective. They were cleared as of last year.” Solas frowned at the turn of the conversation that was being steered. His eyes turned slightly more towards the loose papers were being shuffled like loose leaflets. “My immigration probation officer had assured me of his final visit last year.”

“Except there’s no record of your birth or previous home address. Two basic requirements on the immigration forms to fill out, you left them blank.” The detective explained and finally placed the papers down on the cold table with a loud ‘slap’ to the surface.

“...You know my name, Detective. What’s yous?” Solas asked, looking up from the papers.

“Detective Reed.” He answered.

“Mr.Reed, it is no secret that I was not born in the United States. The home I came from was war-torn. Any records of my birth or previous residence was destroyed by fire and hatred. I managed to escape, and I find it insulting that after two years of relative peace on the matter, this specific issue is even being brought into question.” Solas explained and pressed his hands to the table.

“Are you trying to say you’re one of the French refugees who recieved the presidential pardon last year?”

“I’m saying that if this has stemmed from anything involved with Mr.Eisenhosfer, then it is an insult to his death and it is waste of everyone’s time. I was told this interview was only to clarify the insurance claims to Biotech Industries. If it is anything less than that, then I have nothing more to say.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” Reed corrected him and pointed down at the loose papers on the desk. He tapped the surface patiently then, catching Solas’ attention towards it briefly from his actions. “If its discovered that you’re hiding here illegally, then you are not protected by our government's laws at all. We will be forced to send you back where you came from and have that government question you instead. Either way, we will be getting answers out of you.”

Solas tried not to laugh at the given threat. He tried not to smile, so he covered his mouth and looked away; doing his best to appear more in contemplation. After all, here he was trying to save this sad world from its a highly infectious and deadly disaster and he was suddenly held captive essentially by one old woman who was bitter with him. She was forcing the hands of the police to have Solas detained here -- at least for a time -- but this was going to spiral out of control if he didn’t cooperate, and Mr.Reed was making that abundantly clear.

“...I was trying to protect their reputations…” Solas finally mumbled from under his mouth’s cover and stared more towards the opposite corner in the room.

“Who’s?”

“Everyone involved…” Solas sighed and rubbed his head; lowering it to stretch his flat palm across his smoothed skin. “As you wish… I will answer to the best of my ability, on the condition that the question of my origins does not continue to be an issue. I find that an utter waste of time and an insult to all parties involved as well.”

“Why?”

“Because I have the papers already proving my citizenship. Because it was Mr.Eisenhosfer; who took me in when I needed a home. Because I would be nothing without the Eisenhosfers, and I would not wish to do any damage to the company that treated me like family. Because law enforcement and border control would certainly have more pressing matters to tend to than to check records that have already been cleared… Pick any answer…”

Mr.Reed must have decided that it was any good of an answer as that he could recieve on the matter, and assumed then that Solas had been prepared to cooperate. His eyes looked back to the papers as he showed his good faith by stacking the papers more neatly together and returning them back to the clipboard.

“We’ll consider the matter closed in an agreement for your testimony today.” He offered then and scooted the clipboard to one side. “Now… Where were you on the night of Mr.Eisenhosfer’s death?”

“I had went to see Mr.Eisenhosfer that night, in his study. We got into an argument, and afterwards I left. I’m certain that Mrs.Eisenhosfer would be eager to verify my alibi.” Solas responded and looked back up towards him then.

“You left after a heated argument?” Mr.Reed questioned him in a sarcastic tone.

Solas tilted his head at him and raised a slight eyebrow to him. “Yes. I left. Were the cameras in the room not working? Mr.Eisenhosfer kept all of his properties heavily surveillanced. There’s cameras in his home, cameras at work, cameras at my home… For two years, I’ve been watched through a lens. I would have expected the police to check those tapes before immediately questioning my records.”

“Let’s start at the beginning.” Mr.Reed said pulled out a tape recorder from his pocket. He placed it into full view, setting it on the table and pushed the record button. As he looked back towards Solas, he found him sinking further into the chair. “Mr.Fadestrider, were you aware of Mr.Eisenhosfer’s heart condition?”

“I was.”

“Were you aware of the medications that he was taking?”

“Yes.”

“What were the medications and medical conditions that you knew?”

“Betaxolol, Isosorbide dinitrate, Pradaxa, two breathing treatments with a vaping machine--let me think for a minute--Albuterol Sulfate--that’s it, Omega 3 supplements--which was common fish oil in a pill, daily vitamin supplements, and viagra. He was diagnosed with mild allergies, angina, high blood pressure, and has experienced two strokes within the last six months of his life.” Solas paused for a moment and glanced down briefly. “...I believe... the viagra may have been the cause to some of his heart conditions but Mr.Eisenhosfer had been taking viagra for nearly over a year since before his first stroke. He was never one to listen when it came to his own limitations.”

“You’re suggesting that he combined viagra and heart medicine together for a year?”

“No.” Solas shook his head quickly. “He was taking viagra long before he started showing any signs of heart problems. When it became apparent that he needed to end a personal intimate chapter in his life, Mr.Eisenhosfer refused to heed the warning signs. At that point, he simply added his heart medications on top of taking viagra. I’m certain, from his medical records, you will find that he had a tendency to lie about his condition rather often, and he visited a new doctor almost every time he needed a refill of something.”

“So, he never once took your experimental drug?”

“My ‘experimental drug,’ Tsyresenol, has passed the FDA,and it’s not meant for heart problems. It’s for alzheimer's’ disease.” Solas straightened in his chair then. “While it’s true that Mr.Eisenhosfer was showing symptoms, he is--was--a prideful man. He would never have taken Tsyresenol.”

“But he would take viagra?”

“As I said, he was a prideful man. He took viagra to prove to himself, and maybe his wife, that he still had the passions he once had years ago. If he was to take Tsyresenol, that would be an admittance to himself that he could not remember his wife’s birthday or their anniversary. It would be a self-reflection and acknowledge that there was a grave chance that he could not remember of what he had done in the past week. He might not even remember that he was married...” Solas paused and tilted his head.

“...It becomes a fine line between intentional behavior and incompetence, Mr.Reed, and there are a lot of us who are… merely chasing after our youths. I believe that was what Mr.Eisenhosfer had been doing long before he even met me. So, no. He would not even consider Tsyresenol.”

“Uh-huh…” Mr.Reed concluded and glanced back at the tape recorder briefly and rested his hands on the table. “Is that what you two were fighting about that thursday? Your drug?”

“It is a medicine… And no. We were arguing about something else.”

“Really? Because this is what I believe that happened.” Mr.Reed began and leaned forward. “You were having troubles in the market for your drug. The patent was falling through, you needed money, and Mr.Eisenhosfer wasn’t going to give you anymore funding. So, you got angry.”

Solas stared back down at his hands and his frown slightly increased. “Tsyresenol was not even mentioned in our argument. It’s actually doing very well in the market, too, considering that the medicine is still fairly new.”

“So what was the fight about?”

“...It would probably be in your better interests to ask Ms.Winters.”

“No.” Mr.Reed glared at him impatiently then. “I am asking you. There was nobody else aside from Mrs.Eisenhosfer who was with him that night--”

“Check the cameras or the autopsy report. We argued and I left.” Solas interrupted with a slight raise in his voice and then slowly took in a breath. He looked towards the mirror then and peered through it to find Mrs.Eisenhosfer standing on the other side. Despite the glass mirror being in the way, their eyes had met. “I handled a discussion poorly and I regret our last words being bitter, but I am not the cause.”

“Solas, look back at me.” Mr.Reed redirected him with a wave of his hand.

“Mr.Fadestrider, if you please.” Solas corrected him but followed the requested direction.

“Fine… Mr.Fadestrider…” Mr.Reed sighed. “I’ll ask one last time. What was the argument you had with Mr.Eisenhosfer?”

Solas glanced back towards Mrs.Eisenhosfer from the other side of the glass; almost as if to have given her one last chance to have the interview stopped before he had given his answer. It was true, he knew far more than what Mrs.Eisenhosfer wanted to ever have revealed to the public. If he did talk, it would ruin her. Deep down, he didn’t want that -- though it wasn’t only because for her sake, but also for Ashley Winters. Such dirty laundry had no business being aired out where it didn’t need to be. Though, with given no answer, except for a cold stare in return, Solas paused once more, sighed heavily and looked back to the tape recorder.

“Alright…” He said and lowered his head. “Mr.Eisenhosfer was--”

The door opened and the Chief of Police walked into the room. He looked towards Mr.Reed and marched to the table. “Stop the tape.”

“What?” Mr.Reed asked and bolted from his seat.

Before Mr.Reed could even react, the Chief of Police snatched the tape recorder and ejected the tape from the recording machine. He then handed the tape out towards Solas who only looked back at him quizzically. Unsure if this was yet another kind of ploy, he was cautious about taking the tape into his hands.

“This case has been officially closed.” The Chief of Police explained with a frown and clenched teeth. “Mr.Eisenhosfer died from a heart attack. Natural causes and self-neglect. That’s what’s in the autopsy report.”

“I see…” Solas concluded and finally accepted the tape into his hands.

“But there is another matter. The insurance for Biotech Industries.” The Chief of Police reminded him with a stiff nod. Clearly enough, he didn’t want the investigation to have stopped, but had little choice--for some unspoken reason…

“Of course.” Solas agreed with a nod, and tucked the tape into his coat pocket. “As I have said before, her lawyer can speak with mine and we will have a final settlement pulled up before the end of the month.”

“What just happened?” Mr.Reed seethed towards the Chief of Police. “I was close to something--!”

“Close to unleashing three lawsuits on us and five more across the city.” The Chief of Police responded back in a grumble. “Mrs.Eisenhosfer is dropping the investigation, and with the autopsy filed as it is, there’s no real cause to continue.”

“Damn it, but--” Mr.Reed hissed.

“Trust me. Let it go.” The Chief of Police glared back towards the detective and handed the tape recorder back to him.

“Mrs.Eisenhosfer?” Solas asked from the other side of the glass. He stepped towards it pressed one hand to the side of it as he spoke to her. “Your husband was a close friend of mine. I still consider us all ...close friends...in a way, and I truly am sorry for your loss.”

He didn’t receive an answer. Solas didn’t really expect to. Despite the glass that separated them, he could still see her form trembling from bitterness and regret. She was still in mourning, and probably would remain that way for the remaining years of her life. Though, it was better this way. Better to look for any happiness ahead, if it could be found. Better than to dig in a continued hole that only uncover self-shame to her or the family name.

01/22/2019 03:35 PM 

Longing
Current mood:  apathetic

Disclaimer : This is a modern piece that takes place in the Modern Mortal Waking Realm. Hence, Solas has finished his confrontations in Trespasser and has moved on in search of the Idol (*Red Lyrium object from DA2) as well as what little magic he can cling to, in this new world. The struggle for a mage who pulls his elements from unknown sources --and still learning of those limits-- can be a challenging one. In a short summary to this, he feels a bit desperate and ashamed of past choices.





“I never thought of you as someone who could do that...”

The words stuck in his head like a repeated mantra. There were a lot of misconceptions about him. The most highly misjudged was his capabilities as an individual rather than ‘who he was’ as an individual. Not many people got to see so close into his heart, and so most judgments were even invalid. However, his abilities and of what he could endure were always things put on display, common, and often underestimated. There was no limit to capabilities or of his endurance; no solid interpretation of his suffering or intentions. Only he knew, and at often times, he had amazed himself. He even shamed himself.

Much like a repeated pattern in his long life, Solas had risen and fallen from power often. He fought as a war general in service to a royal noble family. He rose from that position to a King and then later a God. Then after the very Holy Ruler he once served under struck him down, he attempted to strip himself bare of all such rank to oppose and insight a revolution. This lead to Mythal’s demise, in which case, Solas punished the world again. In turn and stripped completely back down into nothing: screaming and crawling in the dark of some long forgotten tomb over centuries upon centuries later. The world in which he awoke was falling apart once more, and quickly Solas aligned himself with an organization that helped to restore their current world--which in turn helped buy himself some time and assess what he planned to do with it. Again, he had to leave and this time with powers mostly restored, Solas left for a wild hunt across other worlds. He searched across space and time through eluvians that he had to tirelessly infuse with magic and the wisdom of souls willing to help. With sheer luck, he stepped through, clean again--stripped of rank, social order, power and money completely again.

The world that he entered now was so much different. So, very apart from his every day norm. There was little-to-no nostalgia to slip back into. There were no elven tales of the Dread Wolf to prick upon the edge of his razored back. There was no knowledge of the red solidified lyrium being the infectious cause to drive mortals insane with power-lust, paranoia, and deranged ravings.

The insanity would have been--in fact--a blessing to most before the assimilation had set into effect. Luckily, there had been no public announcements of such an occurrence yet, but Solas was in the middle of still attempting to locate the source to what red dust he has occasionally came across.

When he first wandered the streets of the new world, he showed pity to an infant and nearly immediately afterwards, he learned the new popular forms of this world’s weapons. He learned of them the hard way, and what magic he did display had stirred a ruckus mild enough that he had to press his search blindly onwards. His search lead him towards a genetics clinic, where he curiously explored the area, tripped a few security measures and accidently found a cure for alzheimer's disease; which was something that most scientists there were still attempting to study.

The very incident lead Mr.Eisenhosfer, the Head Director to him and at first immediately threatened to have Solas arrested, then it lead to threats of quarantine, until it was discovered that Solas’ exploration had in fact helped to find a leading cure to what was being studied at the time. Solas offered to stay with the head director’s work if he had promised him that it would not go public with his own name, and also that he helped Solas to find a quiet place to stay. This allowed the trespassing mage to isolate himself from the rest of the world and still continue slowly in his research. For the first two years, he took his time in studying books, dreaming, pushing in advertising of his medical answer so that it could develop into a patented cure, and waiting for when the next crisis would--should come to him. He stayed with the company, bought secret papers to secure his citizenship, and earned the Head Director’s trust through giving him business advice and philosophical ponderings that left him in deep thought over which decisions to make. After the second year, Mr.Eisenhosfer had mentioned briefly in verbal and written documentation to have his company passed onto Solas for his rapid achievements… and Solas thanked him by inducing a heart attack from a spell three weeks later.

Again, one stripped from nothing, he climbed high into power and learning; these were things that he excelled in greatly. Left alone, he could thrive above the heavens if it were need be. After all, it was done before this...and even that bored him--forced him into other motives.

Placing him back to the here and now… sitting in front of a desk owned by “Biotech” Industries, in an office designed by “Biotech” architecture, dressed in a silk and patented leather suit that was paid for by “Biotech” money, and breathing “Biotech” air. He made himself almost a living brand for “Biotech” --not because they paid well but-- because they lead him closer to his goals. It was hardly much different from when he worked for the Inquisition, really. Back then, he wore the armor that the “Inquisition” fitted him with, carried the weapons the “Inquisition” gave him, lived in the “Inquisition’s” own quarters--even though he found Skyhold for them, and he was once again breathing air that was not his own. A brand that overspoke his own name. A continued repeat in his history.

He could not say that he did not enjoy his perks and current pleasures. Solas liked the view from his twelfth floor office. He liked the glass that instilled a hint of vertigo but kept him protected from a full plummet to the ground. He enjoyed the plush carpet to his feet, which was much softer than the concrete outside. Having a personal bathroom was also another plus, as opposed to what conditions he had once been resorted to enduring in the open air. Even so, these were tiny pleasures in comparison to what greater things he yearned for and what was now missing in his search.

In reflection of his long-term physical changes at the moment, he was not even feeling very much as a true elf anymore. He had used a cosmetic spell to round his ears for protection in this world. After all, he was surrounded by humans who seemed otherwise ignorant of elves and their existence in general. However, Solas has been regretting this decision ever since it was done, even if he believed it ultimately necessary. To him, it seemed that the people had forgotten magic entirely. They had created a world that was dull and almost lifeless. It was a world he had no wish to remain in for long.

It was such a stigma for him that this thought eventually lead him into other forms of desperation. After two years, Solas was begging to debate on cutting out the bottom soles and heels to his shoes. His black $300 suede shoes. It wasn’t really the price or the object itself that even bothered him. (Because he had been removing chunks of rubber from the bottom of his shoes for some time now!) It was the fact that by choosing to wear the shoes as they were meant to be worn, then he would finally have severed the last connection that he had always deemed as meaningful. No matter of what world he had crossed, Solas had always been barefoot---or rather, the bottom soles to his feet remained bare. Of course, there were footwrappings but his heel and toes were always opened to the elements around him. The cloth would soak in the water and snow. All of this was done because he insisted to absorb the pulse of the Waking World around him. Nature; it was in a sense a source of magic due to its very elements and it was something Solas had always clung to. He needed to feel that connection to whatever magic that he could. However, the magic to this world was close to non-existent and he had more likely of a chance at getting tetanus than absorbing the pulse of this world into his body, through his bare feet.

He pressed the blade of a pocket knife to the bottom sole of his shoe and something in his mind told him to stop. The longing for a feeling he could scarcely obtain from such a world was otherwise pointless. Besides, it was not even his own world. Who was he to continue trying in searching to breathe into it, if the magic itself was already choking on its last breath? If in turn left him to choke as well? If Solas couldn’t connect to it, then he couldn’t be a part of it. If he couldn’t be a part of it, then he needed to stop trying. But sadly, he was an addict to that feeling of passing mana. For him, it was essentially a breath; therefore, he struggled with an addiction to breathe. Folding the pocket knife to a close had never seemed so challenging before, but it was done slowly and far more secure than necessary. He promised himself to save the shoes’ mutilation for perhaps another day.

It was dark with the city lights shining behind him; filling up his office but only intruding as far as the smaller shadows of the room would allow. The sound of thunder was rolling its warning of impending floods onto the world. His eyes casted a shadow towards the small mirror on his desk. Solas saw the reflection of himself and the rounded ears he wore. Ears that were not elven; ears that resembled almost human. He traced them with the tips of his fingers sadly. Solas could barely look at himself in the mirror anymore, for he was not himself; so the his last distraction had finally been to place the pocket knife back into his desk drawer. Feeling the cold air from the “Biotech” air conditioning unit blast icy wind as sharp as the winter’s north over his head and shoulders, Solas returned his shoes back to his feet and practiced the mundane art of putting his feet into them. The rubber and leather that fit so snugly around his feet was as comforting as all of it was suffocating. Regardless, Solas forced himself to tie the shoes securely, and pressed his weight down. For this was how things were to be from now onward. He had to accept it until at last, he could return home.

He heard the sound of the doorknob beginning to turn with a small click. Tensing slightly, Solas eased back into his leather chair and sat up. He peered across the room and saw the company’s secretary, Ms.Cane; who was under any other circumstances, a delightful woman in a petite frame and dirty blonde tresses.

Right at the moment, her hair was still strung up in its tight bun with a pencil to hold it up. Her glasses, thin-framed and rectangular were pressed to the bridge of her nose. She wore heels only a desire demon could prance around in, a nude flash of stockings, a classic black pencil skirt, and a blouse that seemed cut from a cloth out of either Antiva or Orlais--the nostalgia in Solas couldn’t help him determine from which exactly. But her stance was always striking since the first day she was introduced to him, and Solas did at least notice.

“Mr.Fadestrider? The doors will be closing soon.” She announced to him personally; as she had done nearly every night because Solas did not approve of intercoms. He didn’t trust most electrical devices even to this day.

“Of course, Ms.Cane. I’ll be on my way out.” Solas answered to her and after tying the last knot, he started to stand up. Without looking towards her, he finally asked the question that seemed to loom more silence between them. “...What is it, Ms.Cane?”

“...Its the police...again.” Ms.Cane answered and looked back down to her notepad in her hands to avoid seeing the visual slump in Solas’ shoulders. “They just want to ask a few more questions.”

“Very well…” He answered, since he did not feel capable of refusing one last interview.

Solas knew that this would been an issue brought up time and again, but there was nothing that could be proven other than the fact that Mr.Eisenhosfer was dead, and he happened to have made Solas the beneficiary to his company. Yes, it probably made Mrs.Eisenhosfer a little angry and that was probably why there had been a push for one last statement from Solas on the matter. However, it should have been a dispute between the company’s insurance and Mrs.Eisenhosfer’s own lawyer. Solas didn’t believe himself to have time for such games, so he played them through gritting his teeth.

He would have taken the stairs, but the police accompanied him to the elevator instead. They hadn’t spoken to one another, since it was already plainly assumed that he was going to be interviewed back to their station. Though this was promised to have been the final time; because it was mainly a dispute between the company’s insurance and Mrs.Eisenhosfer’s lawyer---much like Solas had already concluded.

Desperately through touch, Solas remained searching for that mana to soak into him and breathe away. His fingers traced along the walls like a blind man in search of braille. He felt the cool metal surface of the elevator before he was guided to step inside. His left palm reached idly outwards to grasp the rest-bar from inside the elevator. All along, from the quiet ride inside and then out, he was still searching subconsciously. Solas could sense the traces of magic but it was so miniscule; strained. It left him feeling as though he was trying to breathe through a plastic bag. Just when he started to reconsider his thoughts of cutting holes in his shoes after all until at last…

...they had stepped outside of the building and into a downpour.

The rain was something that disgruntled the officers as they tried to rush Solas towards their vehicle, but he struggled to stand still. He looked up towards the sky and greeted the dark clouds with a smile. At long last, he felt it. The magic of purity from nature itself was pouring down upon his face. Solas could not have thought of anything more cleansing. He stood soaked and finally at some relief; almost as if he experiencing a baptism of sorts for the first time when in truth it was the ecstasy of mana that he reveled in -- allowing him to be a part of its world. The element that came from nature’s own source, splashed over his face in heavy wet sheets. The rain water breathed its power into Solas straight through his skin and in turn (nearly as the addict as he was to it) Solas could exhale and breathe a little easier. He could almost feel as though he was one with the source of magic that remained---until one officer dragged his drenched body into a police car and slammed the door shut. For now, Solas sat there in silence and in peace.

01/14/2019 05:51 PM 

Fen'Harel Visits The Pantheon
Current mood:  accomplished








The year was 1:20, in the Age of the Rapture, a time when the Elvhen Pantheon (had only a few centuries prior) established themselves as ruling Gods Among Elvhenan. It had not started out this way at first. Even ages long before this moment, there had been a previous dark war; one that defined the members within the Pantheon itself. They started out as a handful of well equipped soldiers; capable of wielding magic and violence in equal measure. It was they who rose up against their own King and carved their mark across the land. They alone established the Elvhen Empire for what it was in this day and age, and they named their Capitol Arlathan The Emerald City. Mortal soldiers, who then rose to kings, by now had risen to godhood.

It was still a question as to how godhood had even been established! But mostly everyone within the Pantheon at least knew, that their gratitude was given to “Dirthamen.” A beginning and an end that stemmed from the common wish to appease Elgar’nan, the All-Father and first Elvhen Emperor of all over Elvhenan. That rise had almost stretched outward to even other separate worlds...

Other members within the Pantheon had tried to please their All-Father as well. For if Elgar’nan had ever been angry or restless with his people, the entire world would suffer his fury. Mythal, the All-Mother, could only soothe Elgar’nan for so long.

Evuneblar (Moonflower) displayed his talent for crafting. He created idols and orbs that were capable of producing fast travel between their secret and separate kingdoms to the mortal realms. Thus, his name had been then as the “God of the Craft, June.” His purpose had been given to teach the elvhen how to build from the resources around them.

Din’assan (Deadly-Arrow) had the easiest of ways because she was one of Elgar’nan’s favorite children. She brought the best feasts to the table, and was greatly responsible for feeding those within the Pantheon. Thus her name had been then known as “Andruil, the Goddess of the Hunt.” Her purpose had been to teach the elvhen how to hunt meat and fend for themselves out in the wilderness.

Siona (Good’and’Sweet) was also a favorite for Elgar’nan because she stayed as a homemaker and cooked what Andruil would bring for their gatherings. Thus her name was then forever known as “Sylaise, the Goddess as the Hearthkeeper”; for Sylaise taught midwives, mothers, and homemakers of their role as one to stay at home, birth children, and make medicines and small crafts that would benefit the people as a whole.

Atish’an (Peace) had helped Elgar’nan by taking some of his workload as the All-Father off from his hands. With Mythal’s help, Atish’an carried souls over to Uthenara, “the Deep Sleep.” He cared to the Dead and taught the elvhen of burial rituals and rites that would please Elgar’nan and ensure a peaceful passing of spirit and knowledge upon the moment of death. He and Mythal used objects and landmarks that they had blessed with their magical power; such as the Soul Cairn and the Well of Sorrows. Because of this, Elgar’nan bestowed Atish’an a new name as “Felon’Din, the Friend of the Dead,” otherwise known as the God of Death.

Solas (Pride -- before he was ever named Fen’Harel) harnessed and created a source of an easy and abundant access to magic. With but a thought and a wiggle of one’s fingers, sand could turn into water and crops could grow effortlessly. Fire that burned without the use of consumable resources could warm chlled bones. The loss of loved ones would never seem as painful, because lingering pieces of the soul could have still been reached unless the Soul Cairn of Felon’Din or the Well of Sorrows from Mythal would have already collected everything of that soul. This large abundant place of fulfilled dreams, desires, raw untapped magic and unleashed ecstacy had become a world all on its own; one that Solas called “The Fade,” for it blended so very well with the Waking World as though it were a genetic mutation parasitic and beneficial. For this, Elgar’nan smiled and was willing to give Solas a new name. He would have been named “Nuvenan (Wish)”, but Solas kept his name as one of “Pride.” In doing the act had still remained humble for he did not wish to call himself anything else. His biggest desire had been to mingle with the people and share in the enjoyment of his own creation. Which ultimately meant, being lazy to rule as a King or even a God.

Athim (Humility) attempted to appease Elgar’nan with the creations of the Eluvians. These were constructs of extremely high and wide mirrors that acted as physical portals for the elvhen people to commonly use among themselves. Mythal helped Athim to create them and infused the portals of transportation with her own magic while Athim created maps for the common elves to follow. It was because of the Eluvians that fast-travel had been even possible. Places in deserts could be suddenly inhabitable. Resources could be transported through these portals to help growing colonies of different forms of elves and elvhen from all over the world and even other separate worlds.

Thus, for his efforts, Elgar’nan named Athim renewed as “Dirthamen, God and Keeper of Knowledge.” He was to teach the elvhen people of loyalty and stripped their souls of their wisdom upon their moment of death, should they have chosen in their afterlife to serve him rather than to slumber. Through this, he also taught the elvhen people of faith and Dirthamen became the first to inspire the true rulers as Gods after Elgar’nan had declared it to be so.

But for Dirthamen (Athim), it was not enough.

Dirthamen was jealous of what greatness that Solas had done before him. While Solas was able to excel in magic as if to pull things from thin air to manipulate at his will; Dirthamen had to work with physical tools and the exchanging of elements. The Equivalent Exchange was a rule of thumb that Dirthamen’s talents had been forced to abide by while Solas’ abilities had not. Again, in an effort to please their All-Father Elgar’nan, Dirthamen the God of Knowledge, displayed his talents in experimenting and of what rewards that came from it. He would not explain his experiments though---he spoke of the gift, and so his title grew to The God of Knowledge and Keeper of Secrets. Dirthamen’s experiments provided the Elvhen Pantheon with the gift of Godhood, and it was through the rules of Equivalent Exchange, on a very grand scale, that this was done. It was also one of the few secrets that he had planned to take to his Immortal Grave.

The exchange had been simple and gradually noticeable for the members of the Pantheon. Time for them had slowed down. They ceased to age, their mortal wounds healed remarkably fast from magical attacks given to them, while death could have still been a possibility -- it lead the Spirit and its Wisdom to a state of Rebirth and Continuance, and their physical and ‘previously mortal’ needs were almost non-existent. A stroll to watch the flowers bloom could take years. A nap for them could vary between months to decades. With such power and infinite strands of time, the Elvhen Pantheon became bored with one another and at times even frustrated.

It was here that the Age of Rapture was truly defined; for it was here that social hierarchy was created and the Gods lived in almost equal measure and awareness of themselves as they did with their more mortal individuals. First there was the Gods known as the Elvhen Pantheon, then there was Elvhen Nobility (which compiled of the strongest mages and richest blood closest to the labeled Gods), next was the Common Elvhen who served as farmers, teachers, craftsmen and other semi-noble trades that benefited the people, and then there were the slaves and those of manual and undesired labor.

Even worse, the ‘slaves’ of the Common and Nobility were considered the Slaves of the Slaves; for even with how very defined that the Elvhen people were, the Gods had still considered all of them to have been their personal Slaves. Through Dirthamen’s teachings (as well as the influence of other Gods mentally), nearly every elf excluding the highest of nobility were to mark their faces in their own blood as ink. The images they would depict would be in tribute whichever God or Goddess that they worshiped. Sometimes this even involved changing their own names, as per custom demanded of it.

Yet, even this had not been enough to satisfy most of the Pantheon Members, for they were fickle and restless. Thus, began years of fearful wars and bountiful banquets just for the Pantheon to entertain themselves and earn bragging rights among one another.

Solas had a pride like no other, and he lived true to his name. His temper was short and his wrath against his enemies was fierce. Indeed, he was strong-willed, sly and cocky as a fighter just as much as he had been a lover. Within his games of Desire and War, one of the greatest prizes he had ever achieved was June’s Foci (The Orb), and he struggled in multiple battles amongst June, Dirthamen and Felon’Din just in order to keep it. Solas stole the Orb and he used it often to toss into the mortal realm to watch for any interesting outcomes or he’d use it to cross over into the mortal realm himself. Solas had no intention of surrendering his new plaything, no matter how other Gods sneered and fought him.





----------------------------

While the madness of bloodshed and blinded feasts continued onward, there had also been a slow and steady arrival of Humans to the Northeastern parts of Elvhenan. It seemed that during this time also, the mortal elves had began to notice the slight changes in themselves. Their long lives were gradually beginning to shorten. Mortal wounds festered and remained infected longer. Healing magic, and magic in general had become weaker. The mortal elves felt like they were fish attempting to swim in a pond filled with sludge. It was as if mortal elves were attempting to filter longevity through all of the sudden heavy pollution. They felt sickened and they prayed for answers that would never come. Instead, the Elvhen Pantheon retreated back to their confinements within the Holy Emerald Cities of Arlathan and their secret Castles of Solitude away from the mortal realms. Instead of real answers or solutions, blame was thrown to the Humans for bringing their unknown mortal diseases with them that ‘somehow’ affected the pure-blooded elves...

The truth to the mystery? It had something to do with Dirthamen’s Equivalent Exchange technique that made the Elvhen Pantheon into Gods and Goddesses. However, this was something that Dirthamen would never admit about to anyone. Instead, he had been the first to cast blame to the Humans, and there had been animosity and separation from Humans ever since.

-------------------------------

When prayers had reached Solas about the mysterious disease, it had been the first thing to truly grasp his attention. At this present time, not even Slavery was truly something that weighed heavy on him because he was lazy in answering to the common prayers of his people and far more aggressive and immersive in his battles and playing around. Slavery was common since his original birth, and he had even his own collection of worshipers as such so it was not something he paid much attention to as a problem yet.

But a disease?

An unknown--unmarked--disease that affected his people and a disease that he felt himself somehow affected in return (but in an opposite effect) did grab his attention. After all, it was not any sudden knew understanding that the Pantheon’s lives were all somehow much longer and richer than anyone else’s, while the mortal elves underneath began to show signs statistically in their suffering. This was one problem that Solas felt needed to have been brought in awareness.

So, Solas spoke with the other members of the Elvhen Pantheon; the ones who had yet to create anything namely beneficial to the elvhen people that Elgar’nan would have deemed worthy. With their help, he raised an army to take to the Emerald City and there, Solas had finally addressed the issues of the this mysterious disease and its effects with Elgar’nan personally. However, the result had not been in Solas’ favor. He and Elgar’nan ended up arguing, and that argument turned quickly into a battle, and that battle ended with Solas almost being killed by a strongly enchanted artifact of the Gods. Elgar’nan hurled a spear right to Solas’ head, and he would have even died had it not been for Mythal rushing to his rescue and talking Elgar’nan into calming his anger.

So, instead of death being the ultimate punishment for Solas and those who stood by him, Elgar’nan banished him from the Holy Emerald City of Arlathan within Elvhenan-- their home and starting point as Holy Entities. With the exception of the Twentieth Anniversary, was Solas and those who stood by him ever able to return back to the Emerald City just so that Elgar’nan could please his Eternal Wife and All-Mother, Mythal. As such was still an outrage to Solas, and he swore to the heavens that he would find the truth and cure to this disease. He would end the hypocrisy and blasphemy that his own ‘family’ (including himself) had created; because he had finally seen of what torture all of it had turned into for the common folk that he loved. This, of course, meant that in addition to this and for the need of a continued growth to his armies, Solas would need to also put his oath to ending Slavery as well. He would free his people from the very curses that he and the Pantheon had created…

Solas announced his rebellion loudly at public gatherings and village squares masked as a town’s crier. Once he acquired a gathering, he would show the unbelievable strength in his magic by opening portals to other worlds for his people to view and learn of their So-called Gods, and then Solas went a step further with his promises to the people by using his magic to completely remove the vallaslin (blood-writing) that marked an elf as a slave. With this gift, he cleared each soul that he touched from harsh labor, unfair treatment, and prejudistic damnation. Slaves and otherwise mortal elves who felt bound to their Holy Entities in chains turned to him for salvation and freedom; and with this purpose of freedom they sought to rally behind him.

Seeing this army grow as it did angered and frightened most other members of the Elvhen Pantheon. They saw armies beginning to grow rapidly, seeing their servants and loyal worshipers leave them for instead Solas’ favor. Elgar’nan attempted to end this problem quickly by publicly shaming and strike fear in Solas’ name by renaming him as the fearful Fen’Harel (Dread Wolf), and those once Holy Entities that followed him as the Forgotten Ones. The Pantheon tried to teach their elven mortals to be afraid of Fen’Harel, not to listen to anything that he preached or to look upon anything that he would show them. The Pantheon tried to warn the people of how irrational Fen’Harel was, how much of a liar that he was, how he would use their souls against the Holy Pantheon and if they did reach to serve Fen’Harel then there would be no place in the Elvhen Heavens for them. The Pantheon tried to give the same damning speeches in regards to the Forgotten Ones as well, for they had served Fen’Harel from the start and deserved an equal punishment in slander and exile. The Forgotten Ones were wounded from the slander and had little choice but to disperse in their previous gatherings.

However, Fen’Harel (Solas) had not allowed the slander to damage his pride in the least. He in fact, turned the cursed-name against the Pantheon and used his newly given title to create loyalty to his new-found-and-free followers. He also used it to strike fear in his new enemies. For this, Fen’Harel thrived as an untouchable rival against the Pantheon, and more namely against Elgar’nan. From time to time, he would still receive visits from Mythal and/or Sylaise.

So, with his foci in his hands, and a heavy wolf skull to cover his scarred forehead, the Dread Wolf carried his mantle high and with pride. He continued in reaching out to others for his cause, and he awaited the day for when his armies would be strong enough to go to what he believed to be the Final Pantheon War.





-------------------------------------------

The year was not very important, but on an average assumption it was around 1:20 of the Redemption Age, within the Winter Solstice. It was also the marking of the birthday to Fen’Harel as well as the Twentieth Annual gathering of the Gods to the Emerald City. Naturally, Fen’Harel had to be present. Mythal would not have had it any other way, for she missed her exiled friends and family. In return, Fen’Harel was not that bothered by it. He’d wear the attire of long draped silks and gold plated armor. He’d speak to the staff politely and present a curtly nod when deemed necessary. However, as a noted effort, Fen’Harel tried his best to avoid his adopted “Father” during such events.

Besides, there had been so much fun already to have been had. The Emerald City glittered in all its brilliance just as he first remembered it. The Sentinels were increased in number; each elven soldier had the vallaslin (blood-writing) that marked their face to a service mostly to Elgar-nan or another Pantheon Member. The music that filled the air was soft and melodious. Rodhesils (magical ivory-carved wind instruments) were being blown to the same tune and with it came images pulled from the Fade itself. The images created scenes of when the Gods had blessed the lower mortals with healthy crops and fertile lives. Fen’Harel could smell the luxurious aroma of magic being conjured to suit the bards. Even without them; though, the air was still sweet with wine, honey, steamed vegetables and bread rolls. Any of the kills that Andruil acquired from her hunts were succulent and tender; but this day had been a separate special celebration....

More often than most, Andruil was holding hunting parties for some secret purpose. Fen’Harel had only recently began to uncover some the already tantalizing details and scattered gossip among his estranged brethren. During his current visit back home, Fen’Harel had learned that Sylaise married June, and Andruil was beginning to court a mortal elvhen female noble--which was rather scandalous within the Pantheon, to say the least. Another secret scandal was Dirthamen’s twin brother, Felon’Din, who had been requesting constant and continuous time from Mythal. Within certain rumors that were being protected by Dirthamen, was that Felon’Din was diving into madness from his eager desire to prove his love and devotion to Mythal, and Felon’Din’s only method in doing so was to cause more and greater sacrifices and wars from his own people. It was such news that Fen’Harel simply reveled in, and it gave him a bit of satisfaction that June, Dirthamen, and Felon’Din were finally, finally, ...distracted enough with their own problems that they had to gradually ease up from fighting Fen’Harel as much.

Wars required manpower and resources, after all…

Fen’Harel raised a glass to familiar Forgotten Ones who had been invited to the same gathering. Revassan and Geldauran were standing off to the side. Revassan’s dark beautiful skin stood in stark contrast against Geldauran’s far more fair complexion that together, they stood out amongst the mingling Pantheon’s Members. It was difficult for their sight not to have been avoided. Off to the darker balconies, Sylaise and June were sharing a moment in paradise together by watching what few nobility, that were invited to the gathering, danced below them. Dirthamen was staying close to his twin brother; keeping him from straying off to annoy Mythal. The All-Father, himself, had yet to make an appearance; which had been for the better to Fen’Harel’s interests.

Before Fen’Harel could explore the floor much further, he felt his body suddenly pulled to the dark corners of the large Emerald Palace. At first he had assumed it was a possible informant or maybe even an awe-struck admirer. It was his birth-season, so he’d might not have been one to refuse, if it had been a common woman or nobility striking enough. However, such inquiries were quickly halted when he felt the cold enchanted blue vital dagger that pressed to his throat. His grey eyes peered between the folds of shadow and light to see the person who had managed to capture him so surprisingly, and his smile of intrigue and curiosity slowly crept across his face.

It was lovely Andruil, fierce, forceful and paranoid as ever. She was dressed in the autumn silks and the golden armor of a warrior; which had almost would have made her stand out as well. Except, for Andruil, this sort of tom-boyish attire of hers was quite normal. Her matching hair was cut a bit choppy that maybe it had touched the dull edge of a dagger. Perhaps the very same that was pressed to Fen’Harel’s throat even now.

“La savh na ma. (And a hello to you.)” Fen’Harel finally broke some of that tension; if just to distract her from possibly cutting him-- for he would not put it against her.

“Telahna. (Silence.)” Andruil hissed at him with a glare. “Garas quenathra? (Why are you here?)”

“Andruil,” the oddly given purr in response from the Dread Wolf guided his head to tilt slightly towards the angle of the blade at his neck. “Ara’lin vegara bel’alan’anar, tas ir enaste. Eolasma. La rasama melava ena’las. Nuvenal Mythal itha em. (I return every twentieth year, as I am given my right to. You know this. Plus, it is the time of my birth. Mythal would want to see me.)”

Andruil huffed but didn’t shift in her stance any. “Nuva ma lasa vhallal i vara. (You give your greeting and then leave.)”

“Elvar’nas, thuast i’ve na vasa em adahl tas mar edh’paragirem’len sa anar. (How cold, for someone who tied me to a tree as her personal sexslave for a year.)” He was quick to tease her then.

Her nose crinkled in disgust of him as she retorted, “Tel’lath da’mi inor shol’en mar-- (I have no love for the small blade between your legs--)”

“Tas tel’lath da’mi daremah arainmuin. (As I have no love for the small blade to my throat.)” Fen’Harel finished for her and glanced down back to the blue-vitol’s edge as though to have kept his point of her pointy-end valid. “Telsilal ir sathemah mar palashalan? Ar itha as ema vallaslin. Ha’mi’ni, ar ema tel’esay. (You worry that I will sway your fair maiden from you? From what I had seen, she does not wear the mark of the slaves. So, I have no interest, rest assured.)”

Andruil tucked her blade blade back into its sheath. The dim light clung to her tanned form like a blanket of dark velvet and comfrey. With a high raise of her chin, her glare still pressed down onto Fen’Harel harshly. “Inislea dar’ma. (Inislea is mine.)”

“Inislea asamelin? (Is Inislea her name?)” Fen’Harel grinned again; able to relax now that the blade had left his neck.

“As. Dar. Emma. (She is mine.)” Andruil repeated with a growl looming next to him, which had caused the Dread Wolf to momentarily close his eyes.

“Ma nuvenin. (As you say.)” Fen’Harel answered her and began his turn away. “Sil’dirthemah? Elgar’nan tel’enasta. Nuva is din’sa tuna mar. Sa isa‘hima venuralas. Shathe shiralen. (Might I offer some wisdom? Elgar’nan will still not approve. He may even kill her to punish you. She will need to be immortal… Good luck.)”

“Dahn’direlan. (Idiot.)” Andruil hissed at his backside and slipped further back into the shadows like the huntress that she was.

Fen’Harel had not wanted to stay long, really. He wanted to see the All-Mother, wish her well and show her that his scar had been healing very well with time and appropriate healing magic. Then he wanted to return back to his Land of Outcasts where he could celebrate the season of his birth far more appropriately. His idea of such would involve a tasteful orgy or two, a feast just as satisfying as the Emerald City could provide, and -- of course -- the ultimatum to free slaves of their servitude in exchange of their service to fight for their own freedom. After all, he didn’t completely remove the vallaslin from their faces just from the kindness of his heart. Fen’Harel wanted to see armies flourish and strengthen. While they didn’t have to be specifically under his ruling, they needed to have at least been hungry for Change in their current world and willing to battle even their own Gods for their Freedom. With such a fall, then Fen’Harel could one day learn the truth of everything.

So, turning away from the shadowed balcony, himself, the Dread Wolf began his slow mingling again. His long brown dreadlocks so far had not been damaged by Andruil’s blade; and rested in a half-bun that neatly tucked back to show of his elvhen pride. He glanced around the long banquet table; idly tearing away a chicken leg and unceremoniously gnawed on it without a plate or napkin. Perhaps that had been his small rebellion; and one of many that Fen’Harel may end up showing this night…



01/09/2019 01:37 PM 

Character Study: Solas
Current mood:  accomplished

-- Another Questionare: This time OOC --

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1. Does your character have siblings or .family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

Yes, but its more of a spiritual family than any actual blood relatives. He is closest with Mythal, whom he considers his “Mother,” in plenty of ways. But, yes, their ages are realistically somewhat of the same in actuality.


2. What is/was your character's relationship with their mother like?

Mythal? Complicated. She is his closest friend, his advisor, and in some ways an idol. Solas has a love for her that is so strong, it’s vengeance in her name has crossed both the heavens and earth through time and space.


3. What is/was your character's relationship with their father like?

Elgar’nan? Complicated. He was the first who Solas had ever looked up to, for a time. Solas fought for him as any soldier would until Elgar’nan had given his own titles as a King. In the act of loyalty, Solas ruled over lands in Elgar’nan’s name as a risen God until his own people cried out to have been free from him.


4. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

It is rare. Solas explores the Land of Dreams and in those dreams, he searches for new scenes. New places and new stories. He searches for things he has yet to learn about from other cultures, other forms of magic and other great legends.


5. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

Again, this is rare. Its mostly explained in Answer 4; however, in the event of a nightmare, Solas is mostly in control and knows of himself being self-aware to what he is seeing/experiencing. Most of the time, such visions are spurred on by a demon that wants to possess him and in most cases, Solas would destroy the demon or attack until it has surrendered and moved on.


6. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

Depends on the situation at hand. Solas is not ashamed of his body for any reason, but he doesn’t flaunt his physic. When swimming or bathing in a lake, he will at often times strip to the bare minimums; because heavier armor would cause him to sink like a stone. In retrospect, no matter how strong his resistance to cold weather may be in particular, he will certainly bundle up to protect himself from snow and/or sleat.


7. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

No.


8. Does your character remember names or faces easier?

Its about the same for him. Solas has a vivid long term memory, and it helps to wander the Fade in recollection of older memories.


9. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

Solas is hardly at all preoccupied with any act of claiming of monetary gain or material possession. If he ever is, it is because he is attempting to acquire a bare minimal amount for specifically needed items. Solas has already lived his life as a King, a God, a Rebel/Savior to the Bound and Chained, and he has accepted the reduction his role has become. He has never essentially fought much against titles or riches placed upon him because both eventually are removed and gone.


10. Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

Success. Solas has a goal in his long life and he seeks to achieve it, no matter how much destruction and despair he causes to himself and others -- because he believes that in the end of its achievement, Happiness and Success can be measured as one and the same.


11. What was your character's favorite toy as a child?

Solas’s favorite toy, was hardly a toy at all. It was a magical orb (foci) that he stole from one of his spiritual brothers, June, and claimed it for himself. Solas fought plenty of long wars against June in order to have it, and Solas had no intentions of ever returning it. Such in-fighting from fickle Elven Gods, made the place of Elvhenan very War-Driven.


12. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom or ambition in others?

Solas admires wisdom because he wishes to learn.


13. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

It depends on the situation and his state of mind. For the most part, Solas seeks the truth of what usually happens and applies it accordingly. However, in terms of his history and to what fate has turned him into, Solas blames himself.


14. What does your character like in other people?

Solas likes innovative thinking and knowledge in other people. He enjoys seeing beneficial changes made from any downtrodden behaviors of a society. He also enjoys self-courage and determination from others; those who are willing to put the sword in their own hands and fight their own battles.


15. What does your character dislike in other people?

Things that Solas doesn’t like shown from other people are bigotry, slavery, cowardice, and ignorance.


16. How quick is your character to trust someone else?

Solas doesn’t trust anyone completely. He doesn’t even trust himself.


17. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close to that person?

This depends on the situation… (?) And of what exactly this question means. “...suspect someone else?” --In what? In battle? If its something like his suspicion of others being involved in a plan against him personally; its not likely unless he feels that it may be something obvious. He is rather paranoid, and because he is paranoid, Solas does have (or can easily acquire) others to spy for him -- or he would do the spying himself until his questions or paranoia is sated for that time.


18. How does your character behave around children?

Solas likes children. He likes playing with them and teaching them things, if they show a curious mind. However, this can be subtly the same things applied to his views on other people/species in general.


19. How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

He confronts it in the manner that best suits him. This can possibly take form in many different varieties, but he will strive for it to achieve the same desired results.


20. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

Solas generally attempts to use a peaceful method in any confrontation unless it is either clear that there can be no fair resolution and/or he loses his temper. Over the years, his temper actually does slow down but his violence beyond that would generally be about the same.


21. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Squandered achievements and ungratefulness.
For example: Solas fought in countless wars to free his people from slavery under false gods--even of slavery from under himself and of what his own people believed. He removed their face markings and in their fear of false gods in general, The People rejoiced over the public hanging of Mythal.

So, Solas rallied The Forgotten Ones to confront the Pantheon which resulted in his vengeance. It became an act that destroyed and reshaped his entire world. After he awoke from his long slumber, Solas came to discover that The People have either sold themselves back into slavery, sacrificed armies of themselves in acts of betrayal, and/or began to thin their own precious bloodlines by sleeping with other races.

In a sense, The People have welcomed a slow death in chains, which had been the very thing Solas has fought against for so very long. So, now he is indifferent and disgusted by his own people and everything else in the current Waking Realm.


22. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

It depends on the criticism; though most of the times, he is on the defensive.


23. Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn't work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

It depends on the situation and whether or not it is a long-term method or something that is short-term.


24. How does your character behave around people they like?

Solas tends to listen more to people that he likes, and he enjoys answering any questions they may have for him in return. He is genuinely calm, thoughtful, and appreciative of that person’s company.


25. How does your character behave around people they dislike?

If Solas is around someone that he clearly doesn’t like, his slow temper tends to show it through snarky remarks and strained sarcasm. He tries to have a tolerance for others because he feels he is in a world that is not his own anyway -- so his personal forethought is not rightfully entitled. However, if he is being attacked or if he finds that he clearly does not enjoy what he sees, Solas will retaliate accordingly.


26. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor or protecting their status?

By now, Solas would feel that defending one’s honor and protecting one’s status is essentially the same thing, and he has no time for doing either. He cares very little of what honor holds for him personally and cares even less of what others think of him.


27. Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

It depends on the situation. He tries not to involve himself into other people’s problems much; rather instead, he tries to give guidance and observes -- if he wants to help. However, if its a personal problem, he tends to attempt in handling it himself and in his own way.


28. Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

Yes. Hence, the Spiritual Family that has been made long ago as a pact. Elgar’nan was his marked Father, High King, and Confidant. Mythal was his Mother, High Queen, and Idol. He has also had plenty of ‘Siblings’ who were not of blood relation but only claimed as family by Spiritual Belief. Some of which, were those he has even slept with but it was all done in mutual celebrations of one another, or to achieve his personal goals at the time.


29. Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

Such people/species come and go. Solas is a wanderer and not one to stay in one place even when guiding others.


30. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say "I love you?" Can they say it without meaning it?

The first admittance is always the most difficult for him. He is not able to say it without some meaning to some degree. Though after that, it can become easier for him to speak about. However, even with as much poetry he may give, he does have some intimacy issues that may never be resolved or time in itself just may never permit him to resolve it.


31. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Solas believes in rebirth, but not in a sense that memories are carried over into the next life. If he does die, everything that he knew would be lost forever. His race will never again reclaim the pride and greatness they once had, and His People will never be able to return. He will die as the last of His Kind, and while Solas has no fear in the act or art of dying in itself, he does however greatly fear in being the last of His Kind to die. This is because his death would potentially mark the ending of an Era that one day could have been reclaimed.

01/03/2019 08:04 PM 

My PSA
Current mood:  sleepy



Okay, I’ll be cleaning up my friends list on here. Not the recent adds, but I will give it week of no response before probably reaching out. Now, those that have not responded since back in August & July of last year; I am gonna just assume their page is either dead or they never had an interest to write. And I know I am coming off from a hiatus myself, and I am even requesting and apologizing to those that do have actual storylines with me. But if I haven’t even received a “Hello” or a discussion or starter in over three months, then I shouldn’t have them around. Honestly, if you feel that I’ve done the same to you, then by all means remove me or let’s talk about a storyline. I’m not here for someone’s drama, or to be a trophy, or to be stalked. I could care less about ‘who’ you are behind the character, so long as we write well together with that specific character. Otherwise, if we’re not even talking at all from that page then I feel I’m being stalked or placed as a trophy, and I could think of a friendlier method to see how I am doing. Most of the time, you’d just have to ask.

Also, I will start blocking specific groups that continue to try adding me. Just expect it if your page is from one of them because I am not dealing with groups. I hate groups! I have had too many bad experiences with them (for years, so if you plan to ask me - don’t) that I am forever downright disgusted by groups.

I prefer one-to-one role play adventure/drama storylines. I don’t expect romance because my character has extremely high standards as well as intimacy issues, and usually an unsatisfactory storyline if a romantic option was even chosen. However! Because my storylines are all one-to-one style then I have a ‘multi-love’ set up. Don’t like that? Delete my page. My character only would barely consider elven women anyway, and I am sticking as close to cannon as I possibly can with him. The only exception to cannon part is probably my guesses to how he would respond in certain situations ---- I can only anticipate so much of what/why/how he would react to something specific.

So, just to be clear on any oversights: It helps us both if my rules are read and understood. ::

http://www.roleplayer.me/view_blog.php?id=0000418363

I will not do blog role plays. If your character does do blog roleplays and expects me to do it; Don’t. I’ll just do us both the favor and have your page removed. I play my preferences by my character’s preferences. I stick to only messaging and comments (if its prefered elsewhere), and I’m not one for playing in groups. I do put my adds and considered pages on a time-limit which will be picking back up soon. I may be going on an adding spree again but if I feel that a person does not know anything about my verse there is a chance that I will not add that person; or if I think they may be involved with a group; because there is a chance I would not add that either.

I’m eager for actual storylines and to try in getting back into to writing again! So, if the expectations are mutual thus far then let's write!

^_^

[ This blog post is private ]

10/02/2018 03:37 PM 

A Random IC Interview
Current mood:  accomplished


1. What is your name?

My name is Solas.  *smiles proudly*

2. What is your real name?

*Blinks*  Excuse me?  ….Um, no… I mean to say, Solas, always has been and always will be my name.  I may have been called a few questionable things in the past, and some I may even answer to -- but I am still forever Solas.   If you’d like, I could go into detail of why this is so--?

3. Do you know why you were called that?

Oh, you do wish to know!  Very well.  It’s a name I took for myself.  Where I am from, that was our custom as we grew into adulthood and throughout our later stages in life.  We took names that linked to attributes in which we chose to put our entire being into following.  In my language, the word “Solas” means “Pride,” so therefore it is my statement to the world that I am the embodiment or an extension of Pride itself.  This is because, I am prideful in myself and over everything that I represent.  It would be similar to someone naming their child after an attribute that they believe would express them the best.  For example; the name Joy or Justice or Grace or Chance.

4. Are you single or taken?

I am single but not always alone.

5. Have any abilities or powers?

Yes.  I am a mage, but I don't normally exploit my abilities for senseless endeavors.  So, please don't ask me to use my magic to clean the floors or wash dishes.  Things like that are a waste of my talent.

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Stop making assumptions of me.

7. What’s your eye color?

Grey.

8. How about your hair color?

*Laughs and rubs his bald head.*  If I had any?  Brown.

9. Have you any family members?

Sadly, none related by blood.  I am somewhat still finding my place in the current world before connecting with others.

10. Oh? What about pets?

I don’t really keep pets, but I am fond of animals.  All except for ravens…  I believe I may have mentioned as much, once before in a previous questioning.  

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

Something that I don't like Sincere Ignorance and Conscientious Stupidity.  Such things have brought down Empires, if given enough power.

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?  

I enjoy exploring ancient ruins, painting, mulling over the philosophies of wisdom and truth.  I’m a very quiet individual.  I keep to myself more often than most times, and I read.  A lot.

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

*smiling falters*  It's possible.  

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

*sighs*   If I were to make any confessions to you, we would be here a very long time.

15. What kind of animal are you?

For some reason I have--once or twice--been associated with wolves.  It's mostly from the Dalish.  They fear wolves but at the same time respect them, and while to most I would be considered an unwanted outsider they usually are or would become aware of my magical talent.  So, they tend to equally keep their distance from me and maintain their superstitions.

16. Name your worst habits.

I would say… my stubbornness and perhaps my curiosity.  I used to be arrogant and at times showed a bad temper.  However, I am older now and for the most part, I believe I have learned to cope better.

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

I used to…  I suppose in some ways, I still do.  So… Yes.

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

Who?  *Blinks curiously*  The one I looked up to?  It was a Spirit.  Spirits have no gender to define them and therefore cannot define sexual preferences for themselves.  Even though the gender that it tried to portray itself to be was, in fact, a human female it was not a definition of what it was.  


*leans forward and rests his hands to the table*   In most cases… Spirits have a tendency to...reflect their image into what others would either consider that Spirit to be or of what that Spirit strongly feels that it wishes to become.  


For example, I can look at my hand and no matter how strongly I wish for it to extend and grow feathers -- no matter how delusional or great in number that other people would possibly view my arm as bird’s wing -- I will never be able to fly.  


However with Spirits, their entire manifestations are as interchangeable and lucid as water.  Their forms can change on a whim from another's point of view or even themselves, if they truly believe.  That is where the problem in their transformations remain; although in conclusion the complications of Gay, Straight, or Bisexual are just as equally nonexistent for them.  They are Spirits.

*Still is being stared at and so Solas rolls his eyes.*  


Although, if you’re referring to me…?  I have a stronger tendency to find my psychological and physiological preference lean towards elven women--but only if my mind can even be stimulated through conversation.


19. Do you go to school?

*smiles proudly*  No.  There is nothing any institution can teach me that I have not already learned on my own, and I have learned far more than what they could offer.

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Honestly?  I don't believe either option is even one available to me.  I’m not in a position where I could ever see myself settling down, and dating --in general-- is by far the last priority on my mind.  Suffice to say that children may never be in my future.  That does not mean I find either idea abhorrent.  They are just not goals that I would see myself intentionally striving to achieve.

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

Doubtful.  Highly doubtful.

22. What are you most scared of?

My biggest fear is dying alone; to be the last of my kind and carrying that with my death that would ensure the eradication of my species’ heritage.  It is one weight I do not wish to be placed on my shoulders, even when I strive to challenge that fear every time I march into battle.  I am not one to hide from danger, and death in itself is not a fear for me.  It is the blame.

23. What do you usually wear?

Dorian and Vivienne would both call it the ‘hobo attire,’ but I believe I have upgraded.  I’ve added silveritte armor to protect me against physical damage and a fur pelt to keep me a little more warm.

24. Do you love someone?

Love is abstact and boundless in its forms and perceived limits.  With that said, I love greatly and many.

25. What's their name?

As I said, I love many beings under many forms of the notion of ‘love,’ and therefore, if I were to sit here and name off each and everyone under the specific form of love that I have for them then we would be here quite a while.

26. When was the last time you wet yourself?

Is this a serious question, or is something Sera insisted to be asked?

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

When one first sees me, usually I am labeled as an elven apostate.  So that would automatically assume me to being of the Low Class… … But it is amazing how far someone without social ties can climb that ladder of hypocrisy.

28. How many friends do you have?

I believe I have more allies than necessarily friends.  There are extremely few people to who I truly confide in when I need to.

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

‘Pi’ is the circumference of a circle divided by its diameter.  The number is often equal to 3.14159 when one follows the formula accurately.  


There is also ‘pie’ that can be a versitile and tasty treat.


30. Favorite drink?

Hot Chocolate.  It takes a while to make and the ingrediants are usually hard to come by, but it is perfect during a cold evening.

31. What’s your favorite place?

The Fade.  Anything and everything I could ever wish for remains at my fingertips.  It is an answer for me should I choose to search for something to learn, for entertainment, or both because learning can be fun.

32. Are you interested in someone?

This question seems a little redundant...

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

Oh, for-- Really?  If I had known we were going to turn this into a fiasco I would not have entertained this from the start.

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

I’d prefer to swim in the lake.  The area is usually more secluded and if and when I would like to do so, there are plenty of spirits to talk to when I meditate in such a place.

35. What’s your type?

*face-faults and his ears lower*  And here, I thought I made it clear that I am not exactly dating material…  *sighs and closes his eyes briefly*   ...Alright.  My type…  None.

36. Any fetishes?

*Is actively ignoring the question and reaches for a heavy mug of some unknown liquor to drink.*

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

While I like to think that I can compromise within reason…  I prefer to maintain control.  Mostly.  But I’m not certain of the relevance to this question.

38. Camping or indoors?

Just because I’m an elf does not mean that I enjoy the outdoors--but--I enjoy the outdoors.  So.  Camping.

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

Not necessarily.  Although, I would appreciate it if we were to refrain any questions of my personal sexuality or vices.  Reflections of such are… well those can be complicated and uncomfortable to openly discuss with just anyone.

40. Now it’s over!

A pity.

09/11/2018 08:16 PM 

Hot for Hahren - NSFW
Current mood:  aroused

Hot for Hahren - NSFW


Disclaimer : I don't own *anything* in this written piece. I repeat! I did not write this. However, the author and the link is provided here. I posted this up because I admire the work and reading this is probably the best birthday present to myself that I can have. If you like it too, please leave the author a comment where it's due on the author’s own page. And thank you for reading. Enjoy! (:D)

By Click Here for Astralizey / Click Here for Astrakhan

Click Here for Archive of our Own




©whispersfromthefade.tumblr.com


******************


Fen’Harel lay stretched out on the great white couch in Sulahn’nehn’s imperial chambers, his mind in the Fade. He dreamed no longer of memories long past, as he had for centuries. The return of his brethren had sorely reminded him of the horrors that past contained that he had wistfully tucked away.

Now, his dreaming mind filled him helplessly with memories of Sulahn’nehn herself; the way she moaned and begged him to f*** her harder, the way her eyes widened when he succumbed to his own furious, feral passions. Her soft crimson hair brushing against his chest as she writhed against him in ecstasy. He could no longer control himself around her; thankfully, she did not seem to want him to. She had forgiven him, finally, after rebuffing him twice. After outright declaring she hated him. He was, more than ever, grateful for her love. But yet, he was under her spell. He was a god, and he had fallen for this sweet young elf, so few years to her experience, and she could control him. She could banish him from her empire, and her dreams, with a word. She alone brought him joy, the only joy he had known in two thousand years, and she alone had the power to take it from him.

He awoke to Sulahn’nehn’s beaming face as she climbed onto him and straddled his lap, still clad in the majestic white lyrium gown she reserved for special occasions, such as the meeting with the King of Nevarra she had just left.

He smiled and yawned. He had dreamed of her so often, after he had to leave, but her blissful physical presence was overwhelmingly different. Her touch felt so much hotter and more electric against his skin, her kisses so much softer and wetter, her bites shockingly sweet in their stings. Her hair still smelt of fragrant smoke from the hearth by their bed.

He groaned as she smiled and rocked against him, his c*ck throbbing against the confines of his tight breeches as her skirt splayed out around her, the bright glow of lyrium obscuring his view of her. This was not what he had planned after her duties today. She still had much to learn.

“Vhenan, perhaps we should continue later. I had a desire to teach you more of our beautiful language this afternoon.” He reached down under him to pick up a tome, one he had selected to interest her most: a songbook of ancient elven chants. She knew many of them through her services to Sylaise, as he knew well, but she still did not fully understand their meaning. Perhaps the familiar lyrics would help her to understand the language’s nuances and structure.

She sighed and rolled off him, allowing him to right himself on the couch to make room for her. She snuggled in to him as he selected a song she sang very rarely, one which she sang with little emotion. The songs which she understood she could sing like an ancient elf reborn; her haunting rendition of “In Uthenera Na Revas” still made his heart ache at its memory. But this song was one she did not seem to truly understand: “Suledin,” a song of endurance. Fen’Harel cleared his throat and began to read to her.

“‘Melava inan enansal.’” Do you understand this phrase’s meaning, ma vhenan?”

She frowned for a moment. “That’s from Suledin, right? Something about time, and blessings. I’m not sure what “inan” means.”

He smiled at her. It was such a small participle. “The word “inan” denotes something that has passed. In this case, time was once a blessing.”

She yawned. “So this line refers to the loss of immortality by my people, then?”

He grinned and nodded. She was so intelligent, such a quick learner. She had proved as much in her mastery of the Anchor within minutes.

“Very good, da’len.” He had not meant to refer to her as such. In their growing closeness, he had come to accept her as an equal, and now he knew she truly was an equal in her own right. It was inappropriate to speak to his love with anything but sweet nothings… but the moment had reminded him of years ago, when she was still so green, when her eyes would widen with every trickle of wisdom he let slip.

She had noticed. Her green eyes narrowed as her lips curled in a wicked smile, raising an eyebrow. “Da’len, is it? I guess you can keep going,hahren.”

She licked her lips until her tooth caught her lower lip in a long bite and gazed at him up and down. He loved the way she looked at him, like nothing else existed. It was all the more exciting in her grand chambers, with distractingly priceless white lyrium lining the ceilings. It would not do to let her distract him now. He sighed and kept reading.

“Ir su araval tu elvaral, u na emma abelas.” He looked at her expectantly; she sighed, and rolled her eyes. He smirked at her petulance. She was still so childish, sometimes, in all her wisdom.

“Something about travel, and uh… oneself and sorrow?” She rested her hand on her chin, looking bored. He had hoped she would enjoy this more. She was so eager to learn her people’s secrets, most of the time. Perhaps her lust had distracted her.

“But long journeys are made longer, when alone within.” He smiled and continued. He would go deeper into the structure another time; translating it was enough, for now.

“In elgar sa vir mana, in tu setheneran din emma na…” Fen’Harel looked down at his breeches with a startled gasp.

Sulahn’nehn was ignoring him entirely, quickly unlacing his breeches and freeing his quickly stiffening cock, his thick head shining red with intense arousal. She licked her lips and gripped his shaft, looking up at him mischievously as she slipped off the couch to kneel between his thighs.

“Go on,” she whispered, her sweet voice lilting devilishly.

He nodded and momentarily closed his eyes in bliss as she began to slowly kiss and lick the head of his throbbing cock, pumping his length with her slender, warm fingers all the while.

“Lath sulevin, lath-” He gasped, his reading interrupted by her warm, wet mouth enveloping his c*ck hungrily, quickly taking the length of his member down her throat, her nose pressing against his groin. She began to suck gently, stopping to lick the length of his shaft and swirl her hot tongue over his glistening head before taking him into her mouth again. Mythal’s tits, she was good. She had always been eager, but somehow over these years she had learned some glorious technique he had never experienced even in all his pleasures in Arlathan.

She looked up at him and smiled wickedly for a moment, and he suddenly remembered what he was doing, what he had planned out for the afternoon. He cleared his throat again and continued, stammering as she took him fully into her throat once again.

“Lath… aravel ena, arla ven tu… vir mahvir… ahhh.” The moan escaped his lips as he spoke, and he gazed at the beautiful curlicues of the ceiling in satisfaction as she began pumping his shaft with her hand once again and took his balls into her mouth, sucking hard.

He was panting now. But there was little left of the lyrics. “Mel…a…na ‘nehn… enas-aaaahl… ir… sa.. lethallin…”

He came hard, and she took his hot seed into her mouth, forcing him down her throat again as he pumped himself into her. Fen’Harel leaned his head back on the couch with his eyes closed, satisfied, still panting. Sulahn’nehn stood up and grinned at him, a feral grin that made his aching, relaxing member begin to twitch once again. She bit her lip and stared at him seductively, slowly unpinning her outer gown and letting it fall to the floor as he watched attentively. Underneath, she wore a soft green satin slip, barely covering her breasts and thighs. She never broke her gaze from his eyes as she slowly slipped the thin straps from her shoulders and let the soft fabric kiss her slender body as it fell to the floor. He was utterly under her spell. This would not do. He had to remind her that he was her equal… and she could not distract him with her own lust whenever she demanded it. She had controlled his every thought for far too long; it was time to take charge. He knew well enough that she would enjoy it.

As she approached him, smiling and licking her lips, he looked up at her sternly. “Da’len. Sit.”

She raised an eyebrow, stopping in confusion. “What-“

“Sit,” he snarled, rising up to his feet powerfully, never breaking his gaze.

She stared up at him in surprise, her lips parted in awe, and slowly kneeled, still looking up at him. He stepped close to her, her bare breasts brushing his thighs, and raised her chin roughly.

“You need to learn that other people are not your toys,” he said sternly. “You cannot distract me from my tasks whenever you wish it. If I say you will learn, you will learn.”

He squeezed her chin to punctuate his words, and smirked at her look of utter worship as she nodded, wide eyed.

“Yes, Fen’lath,” she whispered up at him. He loved her name for him, but for the moment, that would not do. He brought his head down to whisper in her ear, grazing her delicate point with his lips.

“What was that?” he murmured. She gave a tiny gasp and a giggle.

“Yes, hahren,” she purred, biting her lip. He smiled, and sat back down on the couch in front of his kneeling love, picking up the tome again.

“Let us return to where we were, da’len. Do you recall the meaning of the word ‘inan’?” He raised an eyebrow, and a hand, bending the Veil he once created with his will to gently lap against her clit. A teasing hint of what the correct answer would bring. She grinned and moaned, leaning her hands back on the floor behind her as she kneeled to give him a glorious view of her naked curves.

“Something that has passed,” she whispered.

He smiled, and bent the Veil to stroke her again, harder this time, an invisible hand rubbing and vibrating against her clit with an electric force that sent her eyes rolling up into her panting head. She was so close now, but he wasn’t done. He withdrew the magic again, and she lifted her head to pout at him sadly while he smirked and shook his head. “Translate this line, da’len. ‘Ir su araval tu elvaral, u na emma abelas.’”

She gasped and shook her head, frowning in concentration. Clearly, she had not been paying attention earlier. He ghosted his magic between her folds again, to motivate her, before retracting his magic away. Her eyes were shut tight in frustration.

“When long journeys… are made longer… um.” She paused and gasped at the welcome surge of magic he returned to her dripping folds. “Na emma abelas… when sorrowful within?”

He smiled and laughed. It was a mistranslation, but not a bad one; “sorrow” was the most common meaning of “abelas,” after all. It would take time for her to learn their language’s many homophones.

“Close, da’len. So close,” he grinned, watching her writhe in front of him, drawing so close to completion. “When alone within.”

He punctuated the statement by sending a thick wave of the Veil itself between her open thighs and into her dripping cunt, sending her crashing to her back with an ecstatic wail that would surely have carried through the Palace itself. He stood again, his breeches still unlaced from earlier, and removed his clothing quickly as he retracted his magic once again and left her panting at his feet, nearly paralyzed from pleasure. He quickly lifted her up and threw her roughly on the bed; she giggled and moved up the bed to rest her shoulders against a pillow. He sat at the end of the bed, observing her. She was so beautiful, even more beautiful without the angry red markings that had covered her face years before.

And she was his again. Though, for a time, she had not been, thanks to his own selfishness and guilt. If he had only told her before, in Crestwood, perhaps she would not have sought solace in the arms of their friends. Cullen, Briala, Sera, Bull… The thought of Iron Bull ravaging her slender body, her arms tied roughly above her head, flashed through his mind and made his eyes darken with jealous lust.

“Is this where Bull tied you up, da’len? Did you moan in pleasure as he filled you?” He smirked at her expression of shock as he crawled up to join her, but did not expect her expression of shame.

She frowned at him. “If you hadn’t up and left, I wouldn’t have had to-“

He stifled her complaint with a passionate kiss. He knew all too well how much sorrow he had caused her; in any case, he rather appreciated her new experiences. He stroked her face and smiled at her as she gazed at him apprehensively.

“It is no matter to me, vhenan. You are more like the ancient elves than you know.” He chuckled at the memory. “We were free with our love. Our feasts were decadent orgies that lasted ten years or more.”

He kissed her again, pulling her in close beside him as he caressed her silky hair. He brought his lips close to her ear. “And we invented the art of vhenan’eth, the safe heart that binds. Our friend’s methods are rather… unrefined. Would you like me to teach you how it is truly done, da’len?”

He grinned at her obvious excitement as she nodded. She would not see her desires fulfilled so easily.

“Beg for it, da’len,” he softly growled as he rose up to pin her arms to the bed with his hands, the tip of his erection gently pressing against her wetness. He wanted to hear her beg more than he wanted to enter her, right then.

She acquiesced so sweetly. “Please, hahren. Please, I want this, I want you, I’m yours. Please,” she panted, her voice growing more strained and breathless with each word as he rubbed himself against her.

He closed his eyes for a moment and focused his will through his hands, still clasping her wrists down to the bed. When he lifted his hands, solid snakes of green veilfire bound her to the bed, and she gasped in delight. “That’s so brilliant. I never thought of that. That’s the same sort of veilfire I use in song-magic, right?”

He smiled and nodded at her distraction. Finally, he had been able to distract her desire with wisdom. Usually, it was the other way round. He grunted and stood up on the mattress, lifting her legs high in the air as he entered her. She laughed as she moaned, completely inverted on the bed with her wrists still bound to the bed itself by his magic. He gripped her slender thighs tightly as he pushed himself against her roughly, until he felt a little tap on his ankle. She was head butting him.

“Uhh.. I think I’m about to pass out. I’m not used to being upside down.” She giggled again, and he gently released her back onto the bed, where she pulled him towards her with her legs, her wrists still bound.

“Bind me tighter,” she whispered, as his eyes widened and he bared his teeth in hunger.

He began to trace snakes of veilfire around her body, magical wisps that hummed against her skin and bound themselves to the wisps around them like tight armor. She gasped and wriggled underneath him as he traced lines of veilfire down her shoulders, the green light curling around her bare breasts and hard nipples before coursing down her stomach to her groin, caressing between her folds and grazing up her ass. She trembled as the veilfire extended to mask her eyes with its green brightness, her features still visible but her vision blurred. She moaned as he released her arms and bound her wrists and knees tightly together, pushing her face-down onto the bed with her ass high in the air, quivering in anticipation. He sighed in satisfaction at the gorgeous elf prostrated in front of him, fully submitting to his will with pleasure. He knew she was too feisty to truly submit to him, but he appreciated her strength of will. It made hunting her and pinning her down like this all the sweeter. He set the veilfire off with a touch; it began to hum and vibrate, soothing her entire bound body as she softly moaned.

He licked a finger and gently pressed against the entrance of her ass, working his way in as she moaned again, a little louder. He slowly worked another finger in, holding the two apart to make her ready for him, before he coated his throbbing c*ck in magically enhanced saliva and thrust into her ass. Her back arched as she bucked against him, her hands and knees still bound helplessly, the veilfire at her cunt humming and whirring at his command. He stopped for a moment to gaze at her again, still deep inside her, and waved his hand to will the veilfire circling her groin to congeal itself and enter her. She gave another gasp and turned her head to look up at him, panting wordlessly, the look in her eyes betraying her satisfaction. He bent down and kissed her as he pounded harder into her ass. He could feel the veilfire in her cunt filling and warming her. She pressed up against him as much as she could given her precarious bindings, kissing every inch of skin he briefly made available to her.

She climaxed yet again, a surge that made her clench hard on his cock, and it sent him over the edge. He nearly howled in pleasure as he came inside her, lying on top of her prostrate body in a loving, but exhausted embrace. He touched the veilfire on her shoulder, and her bindings slowly dissipated, leaving her lying comfortably in his arms with a look of amazement. He was tender with her now, holding her like a delicate, precious jewel in his arms as he lovingly kissed her, massaging her shoulders with his strong hands. She sighed, deliriously happy, and took his hand in hers, stroking his palm and sucking on his fingers gently.

“Remind me to be naughty again next time you teach me something, hahren,” she purred. He laughed, and shook his head; the act had the opposite effect from what he intended. She never failed to surprise him.

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