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.
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…
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?
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.
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. ::
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!
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.
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)
1)PATIENCE REQUIRED: I tend to write a lot; especially if I am excited with what I am writing about. This may take time (days/maybe even a week!) in recieving anything from me because I have plenty other pages to respond to as well. I have listed of what I prefer in the panel to the far right of this profile. Sufficed to say, I do not tolerate one-liners.
2)DON'T STEAL EDITS: Self-explainatory. Either I or someone else has worked hard on them.
3)NO OOC DRAMA: I will not tolerate it. Even if I see it in status, I will delete you. In character drama is fine, of course, but let's keep a distinciton between those two things.
4) RELATIONSHIPS ARE OPEN. ALWAYS OPEN: First thing you should know: This is roleplay and not real. I am not seeking to date anyone through this site. In real life, I am happily married. I am just here to write.
In character, Solas is only attracted to FEMALE ELVES(however to a certain degree, he may flirt with other female races) and he is not an over-expressive individual when it comes to romance. He is "grim and fatalistic"--therefore, if(and only if) romance even occurs then expect angst and a lot of it. It may not be satisfactory...
5)I WELCOME AND REACT TO DOUBLES/DOPPLEGANGERS: There is always an explanation in the storyline for something like this; especially since time travel can be involved. In addition to that, if I end up with 50 Inquisitors of different races to respond to then so be it! (As long as they are all multi-para to novella.) Other people should not get upset about this choice since they are all recieving a similar response in my character's behavior.
6)OTHER CAUSES FOR DELETION: Instructing me on how to write my response (--either you want to rp with how I am, or you don't.) // If I send a starter without recieving a response back after four to six weeks and, especially if its clear you have been active with no reasonable excuse not to respond back. // Constant "Add Page" posts and no writing productivity shown. // No sl replies after a month. Basically, if the roleplay stops. I am here to write// *7 Days* is all the time I am going to allow new adds to reply to Discussions, to avoid my deletions. // Rules are not being followed or acknowledged in the slightest.
7)ONCE I DELETE you, I WILL NOT ADD YOU BACK: You only have one chance with me most of the time. Keep trying to re-add and you will be blocked.
Fade way to the wicked world we left and I become the dark of you. Say a prayer for the wounded heart within as I become the dark of you. Let Go. When all has come to life we live, we breathe, we die. They call me to the light, forever lost in time. ~Song: The Dark of You ~Breaking Benjamin
With the sound of thunder rang loudly in his ears, his grey eyes snapped open. A sudden pain struck in his chest and spread rapidly through every fiber of his being. It felt as though his blood boiled with hot magma and scorched its path all the down each microscopic blood vessel in his physical form. He had not recollected since he started to holler, but somehow he knew that the foreign voice filling the darkness with its pain-stricken agony was his own.
Darkness. There was nothing more challenging than the empty dark. The silent, empty darkness; with only one’s own thoughts left to ponder into nothingness. No light to ease the fears. No one to hold or confide in. What greatness he knew, what expectations he had; it had all faded away. Swallowed up by the empty, everlasting, abys. It was clear that he was alone with nothing but pain to console him. This had been it. The worst fear; dying alone. Carrying all that he knew of his people and failing to keep the truth remembered. Such a fear for any race would be terrifying. Not just because of his death, but the failure and extinction that was carried with it.
Something touched his face and he was startled; twisting his head away and shifting his hollering more into screaming. He screamed from the pain pulsing through his sunken form. He screamed to hopefully scare away whatever it was that touched his face. He screamed because it was the only voice he could hear and he feared if he didn’t hear anything that he would lose his mind next. The thunder echoed from deep in his ears, past his own voice; as though it was more heard from within his own mind. His arms moved, frightening himself more until his hands trailed down his shoulders and his arms to finally realize that there was nothing there. What had been touching him was only his own hands.
He traced his hands back over his face once more to feel the scars of the vallaslin. It felt foreign to him as well. Solas traced the patterns of the tree; envisioning its shape that stretched all across his forehead. Memories flooded his mind as fast as his racing pulse pushed the fiery blood in his veins. He gritted his teeth as tears streamed down his face; enduring the flashes of images. The Evanerus. The All-Father burning the brand of his wife on Solas. Then he remembered the voice of Mythal, asking him to come.
That’s right. She wanted him here. She called to him from beyond the Fade and forced his blood to rush. She forced the air into his lungs and pulled him with her magic--pulled him into the physical and solid form that was his body. Unfortunate that it was against the will of the All-Father, Elgar’nan. Unfortunate that Mythal could never ease the suffering of going against her own religion’s commands. Unfortunate that there was no other way her will could be done and so again the Dread Wolf must rebel.
That made more sense to everything, and it calmed his thoughts a little. The pain and the darkness was from his own tomb. He was cursed to serve Mythal in this manner. Because no one could kill him, he was sentenced to sleep--and because a calling that was faded from time, forced him against the unconscious command --and against his own wishes--his body reacted to the insubordination with pain. Of course this also proved another point. He was not dead or stumbled in his path to have suddenly been locked away in some other part of the Fade. Solas was still very much alive after the huge explosion that destroyed everything he knew and held dear; after centuries upon centuries of searching the Fade and feeding his thirst for what knowledge he could acquire in dreams.
Solas tried to focus on the spell to remove the markings from his face. He had to pull the energies from memory and do the spell he knew well to remove the markings. He could hear and feel his own flesh becoming to burn. The sickening tang of seared skin filled his nostrils just as the sting of forced rejection hurt his face. He had not done the spell in a long time, so it was not a perfected cast. Though when he felt the soothing after effects cool against his skin, the feeling of molten magma pushing hot through his veins quickly began to subside. The pain was finally going away.
Rivers of tears streamed down the sides of his face then. He felt reborn. Clean. It was just as he had given the same feeling to other slaves from so long ago. Solas was free from the influence of another and he was alive. The air --though dusty-- smelled in some way sweeter and he felt cool to the touch. Despite how much he screamed and wept moments ago, now he was laughing from the bubbled joy that mixed with that sorrow.
“Mythal....” He mumbled. His voice raw and dry from disuse. He started to wipe away the tears, and smearing away what he could only assume was blood from his forehead. “....Ir abelas.”
Even after so long, Solas was still rebelling against the will of the Evanerus and this time he wasn’t even trying that hard. His only true regret in it was that doing so was a just as much a disservice to Mythal as it was a service in contrast to The People. It would not matter how much he apologized to her. In this awakening, he was to become her vengeance and salvation against the world. This was because the damage he had done was too great and he knew that.
He sighed then; for a moment just relaxing and preparing his body to move. Everything still felt sore and so very weak. He didn’t need light within this tomb to know that his body was probably malnourished and lacking muscle. The sickening feeling of nausea churned and tumbled within his stomach; reminding him of the hunger for food. He felt as though he could consume the quantities of a dragon’s feast, but the nausea settling so strongly in him would quickly disagree what his mind fantasized.
As weak and tired that he was, Solas knew it would take everything in his concentration to attempt in sitting up. He took another sigh, trying this time to concentrate on his hearing. There was nothing to answer him but the lingering thunder that echoed still in his mind. No direct path that even his sensitive senses could detect at the moment; because they were stripped raw.
His muscles were slow to move. He could feel ligaments shifting and threatening to twist and pull if Solas did not move slow enough. The struggle against gravity was more of a challenge than he remembered as well. He pressed weight against his wrists and tried to use them for balance. His head was spinning the further that he rose but he pushed onward. He pushed and hissed from each movement until at last, he sat up.
Disclaimer : This is a scene taking place just before the Fade Kiss in the game. It aids to the many reasons why Solas keeps himself at a distance from her throughout the game.
It didn't always happen this way. The sky was never so blue to him before, nor was the world ever so clear. Solas was almost certain that he was in the Fade; perhaps locked in a dream. However, he was not certain because everything appeared far too perfect. He had fallen asleep, and it was the last thing he remembered before waking up to this point.
Solas had no idea how he ended up in Lavellan's personal quarters. Her personalization of the room was everywhere. There was the plush Orlesian bed covered in red satin and comforters filled with cotton, her stained glass windows, curtain, and even her mural above the second floor banner were all decorated with the signs of the Dalish.
Lavellan took a great pride in the fact that she was Dalish, as she rightly should have done. Solas was not one to argue with her taste in decor, but that was not his issue at the moment. He tried to find things that were out of place; something that could prove to himself without a doubt that it was in fact just a trick of the Fade. he could not get far in his assessment; though, for Lavellan walked into her room.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting." She welcomed him with a bright smile.
She wore the same grey silk garments that Josephine appointed her to wear from the moment the Inquisition position had been established. Aside from his own armor, Solas had not changed much from his long sleeved apostate attire. She turned then and started to remove her boots; setting them by the bed.
"Your jaw looks a little slacked, Solas. Are you alright?" She questioned then with a light joke.
Solas had not realized he had been staring until she practically pointed it out to him, and he quickly in turn, lifted his eyes away and reset his jaw.
"I'm... having an exercise of my focus, it seems... by trying to determine if this is a dream..." He spoke with honesty; in the hopes that maybe -- 'Lavellan' could and/or would answer him in the same manner.
"Well, there's one way to find out." Lavellan smiled as she came closer. She reached up and traced her hand against his cheek, guiding him more to her.
Solas's eyes glanced up from her lips and before he could speak, he found hers pressed to his own. They were soft, warm and tasted of strawberries, cherries and cream. For a moment, nothing mattered but those lips. Solas couldn't breathe, much less react logically. His lips responded, and far more boldly than Levallan's first introduction.
He was swept up with wanting her, wanting to kiss, to touch and taste--anything and everything about her. In that one moment, whether from a dream or a reality, she was there and his desire for her had been so easily overwhelmed. Solas was certain that she could have felt his complete physical reaction between them as well. It was not something that he could help. It had been... very long--too long--since Solas had any intimate contact from anyone, and he was very attracted to Lavellan. The subtlest touch could straighten his spine, and the slightest whisper to his ear could have left his throat dry. He would have been in a state of arousal so powerful and uncomfortable that he feared of what control he may lack because of it. Indeed. Solas was very much aware of his own body's responses, and because of such, he chose to remain distant.
Better to not feel at all than to be tortured from a physical tension she knew nothing to being the cause of--nor having any interest or desire to help in easing it away. He certainly would not become a toy or a task for anyone else's whims either--and certainly not her. It should not be her place. It would not be her place... but Solas was not pushing her away....
She smiled upon nibbling his bottom lip and nudged her nose against his nose before pulling away. Down, Lavellan went with her eyes bright and smiling up at him. Solas could only reach for her in almost a feeble attempt from struggling with himself over what he even wanted to do; for surely he could have pulled her back up with ease.
"Vhenan--" He breathed, but instantly took in a sharp inhale briefly from the sensation of his clothes being loosened. Instinctively he moved that hand to stop hers. "--That is not wise."
"Why? I'm tired of these games, Solas." She spoke with determination and looked back at what his hand covered before her. Lavellan smiled with curiosity and interest then. "I have a hint that you are too."
A surprised chuckle arose in spite of Solas' mild embarrassment then, only to gently sway back down and nestle in the comforting sigh he held laced with lust. The Inquisitor caught him off guard and because of that, he could not refuse her. Any excuse that he normally would have given was instantly flying out the window because from the start of all of this, he could not make any sense of it. It was almost as if deep down, he already had known that this must have been the Fade....
"Alright..." He said; deciding that he could stall for time while indulging his curiosities that remained. "...You win, Vhenan..."
Lavellan's smile of victory to the argument could not have been any wider. Her attention went back removing Solas's hand to greet his manhood that sprang past its confinements towards her attention. She took him into her mouth and a few moments later muffled a little in surprise to finding his hand on the back of her head.
Solas had given a quiet sigh after a short moment until he couldn't take her free range to torture his needs much further. He pushed her to take him in deeper and after her mouth widened slightly to accommodate his readied length, he pushed a little further. Not allowing her to move. Not allowing her to breathe. However, he was watching her carefully. Her wide eyes remained confused and stunned as if wondering of what she may have just agreed to. She was adorable with her mouth around his firm length. Though when she started to choke, his attentiveness responded by sliding away and out of her mouth.
"Enough?" He questioned in which she responded with a nod between gasps.
"Again." She told him in urgency and wiped the corners of her mouth, and it became another sight for Solas to lock away in his mind and cherish.
"Again, what?" He toyed with her then; resting his hand over the top of her head and caressing her cheek.
"Again... please?" She questioned him curiously at his stalling; even she was beginning to notice it.
"Sathan, 'ma'isha." He corrected and quickly guided her back to taking in his length once more. He smiled down at her; subtle and small but prideful just the same. "On'ara'lin.*"
Again, his hand remained firmly to the back of her head as he sank all the way inside of her mouth. Down as far as her throat would allow; until he heard the slight grunt of discomfort and he would hold it there for a few seconds longer before sliding away. Over and over, the process had seemed to repeat until Solas felt his senses attempting to give in to the anomaly of the realm around them. He needed to slow down...
"Ven-- Venavis...**" He commanded began as a request that soon escalated into a hoarse whisper in between plucking her away. "Venavis, vhenan..."
She glanced down at his eagered sex; twitching with an obvious urgency, and then back up at him. "But... You're not done."
"I... have a high endurance for... such things." He reassured her with a small chuckle that probably would have been dark if not breathless.
She seemed confused then and tried to reach for him to hold in her hands, but the act was thwarted due to Solas taking her hands into his own. "But--- But you shouldn't have--"
"I don't want you worrying about that. I want you to come." Solas paused on the sentence on purpose to watch as Lavellan's cheeks began to glow upon the moment that he pulled her up towards him and then finished explaining. ".....To bed."
Lavellan giggled then, with a quick approval and Solas watched as she bolted off in her victory. She was certainly quick to drag him back from the balcony in return. Her hands returned in a quick initiative to remove his clothes; scaling up along his chest to lift away the long-sleeve sweater and wrappings. The urgency alone pulled a moan from him and he kissed her with a passion that demanded slowness. His body pulled closer to her, pressing his chest back to the softness of her breasts, and preventing that misfit urgency from getting too far out of control. Once the message had been clear, he bent her slightly towards the bed and roughly pushed her onto the mattress.
"Solas?" She huffed between the shock and the whine of his directing behavior.
He reached down towards the folds of her jacket; taking the cloth into both hands hands and ripped open; utilizing magic to his advances in order to tear the undershirt beneath it as well. Punishment, perhaps; for being too demanding...
"Solas!" Now, she was scolding him--or would have been if it was not for the shock and the anticipation clouding over her better judgement.
Her breasts were now exposed to him and to the cold. Solas showed his appreciation by cupping them into his hands and moving his right touch towards her nipple to pinch and lightly twist just enough to hear Lavellan squirm and whimper more.
"I believe the term you are looking for is 'ma'isha." He corrected her with a pinch slightly harder than the first only to smooth his touch back over the palm of his hand then.
"What... What is that?" Lavellan cooed and squirmed to reach him, but Solas managed to see her reactions first and when she started to move, he covered his hands over her wrists briefly to place barrier spells over them. This had left her attached to the bed then. After a few struggles, her body slumped and she looked back up at him, panting, wanting, startled and even frustrated beyond belief.
"Master?" She flinched in her question. Half expecting that to have been the answer.
However, Solas only smiled softly as his eyes dropped back to looking at her breasts; admiring with how well they fit in his hands. "No. Not at all."
"You expect me to speak in words I barely even know to try to get you to do what I want? Isn't that like honoring the Dalish you hate?" She struggled, mewled and hissed all at once with trying to escape his prison. Surely, she would have pounced him to the floor had her own way, if given the chance...
"I expect you to learn, Vhenan." Solas answered just as calmly as ever; though when he moved to straddle her, he made certain that she could feel the excitement in him that she still managed to stir. His hardened length pressed in a purposed and casual rest against the top of of her sex, leading all the way up towards her stomach.
He smiled at her startled gasp from feeling his warmth suddenly straddled over and on top of her. Solas knew of what she could have possibly been thinking and he managed to grasp her attention successfully.
"And I have never said that I hate the Dalish. I don't hate them; however this is by hardly any means of honoring them either... The only one I am honoring, is you." He explained while rotating her breast in his left hand. His eyes met hers as he kissed her right breast then, raking his teeth lightly over the hardened nub and then suckled the tender spot gently.
Between her whimpering, and softer sighs in urgency, Lavellan tried again in her pleading. "Solas please... I need you."
Solas paused from his actions and lifted his mouth away after a moment too long. "...Hmmm? In what way do you need me, Vhenan."
Her cheeks blushed again, and Lavellan swallowed dry air as she attempted after a moment to wiggle her waist underneath him. Solas couldn't help but to chuckle at her fevered attempts, but he wasn't about to allow her much control just yet, either. He shifted his body lower; sliding down along Lavellan's front to reposition himself in front of her silk slacks. Of course by now, they had been ruined, soaked and sticking to her with more just sweat. Perhaps he had her waiting a little too long...
"Well, now, let me see..." He soothed her urgency with soft and gentle instruction as his hands moved downward to use a spell to make her slacks to have disappeared. There before him, he saw what troubled his lovely Vhenan.
"Oh... This won't take long." He reassured her and ran the knuckle of his curled index finger over the swollen wet bead of exposed nub; only to extend that same finger and bestow more direct attention to the area in a feathery massage.
Instantly, Levellan started to tense again. Her eyes squinted shut as she tried to explain. "No, that's not what I--"
"Relax." He all had but ordered the word which rendered her silent as he brought his cheek to rest slightly against her inner thigh. "...Ha'mi'in. Lasa em tua rosas'da'din.***"
Solas didn't know if she knew of what he was saying anymore, when his lust had reached certain peaks. Then again, he didn't leave her in much of a position to argue against him either. He pressed his tongue against her aching clit, licking firmly in a similar motion that his previous direction suggested. For a moment, Lavellan had been extremely quiet, but her body remained in a struggle from tensing in his grasp and then relaxing. He opened his eyes while enclosing his lips around her mound. Levallan was watching him, and blushing with a look of disbelief that he was even there between her legs. Solas moaned slightly in approval and reached with his hidden right hand to hover over her entrance. From there, he focused on magical energies that penetrated and stretched her awaiting center. In response, that eye contact was broken. Lavellan instantly moaned louder and rested her head back against the mattress in defeat; though Solas had his own plans in mind.
He remained with his back arched, slightly pressing his hardened muscle against her knee and taking in the delight of seeing Lavellan tense in desire for him and hearing her moaning his name. It was a novelty fetish for him, after all; in seeing and knowing that this proud Dalish woman with so many highly given titles was sweating in her sheets at night for him, an elven apostate who had nothing. He had no clan, no power worthy enough in either political heresay, or currently in enough magic that should impress someone like her. All that Solas had was his name, and Lavellan called it in praises for him over and over. Wave after wave, until she couldn't speak; until her body tensed on a verge of something she couldn't seem to describe.
"I can't... I can't anymore, Solas. I'm going to--" Lavellan was close but then everything seemed to stop. She arched her back and waist to lift them in protest with her pleading, because Solas had suddenly pulled away. "No! Don't stop!"
"I don't believe I gave you permission yet." Solas responded in a dark tone that answered more to her confusion than her demands. Clearly, he was not going to bend to the whims to his bound prey easily. "What do we say when we want something?"
"Sathan..." She closed her eyes shut as her blush darkened. "Sathan pala em!*(4)"
Solas looked to her in surprise, but didn't hesitate in his actions next by shoving that warped sense of energy faster within her awaited center. In no time, she was calling in bliss from his arm pressing that control over her until at last she came with a strangled echo of ecstasy chasing behind her. He softened his last two strokes within her, letting her tension relax and to give her a moment to catch her breath before he began again.
"Do you know of what you just said, Vhenan?" He asked her and leaned back. He started to take off his clothes then; by tracing his hands over them and using magic to make them disappear.
She could only look up to him with glazed eyes, spent in utter confusion and thriving only on the physical desire that he could give. It was how he wanted her; to have that expression from her. Because of that, he couldn't hold himself back anymore. His focus on his restraint had reached its limit. Solas was eager to teach her more, and so he removed the warped pressure of magic from around and inside of her. Then he replaced it with himself, by sliding in that hardened length finally to where it mattered, inside her aching awaiting entrance.
"I'll show you." He spoke, his tone coaxed with need and began thrusting into her
If she believed, he would have started slow, she would be mistaken Solas was pounding into her fast and rough; leaving her no room to beg or make demands. She could take it; he had made certain of that earlier. Besides, having her spent in this way before initially claiming her was the most ideal method for him. He bit into her neck, clawed at her front, and clawed at her front while whispering ore filthy things that she barely understood. The minute he felt his need returning and hers beginning once more, he started to slow down, causing her to howl in frustration against him.
"I know... I know you want to; so ask for it." He instructed through gritted teeth and clamped his pearly whites onto the pointed rim of her ear, making her holler in bliss and pain.
"Sathan! Sathan 'ma'isha!" She called out for him. Her body twisted and growled underneath him like an aroused dragoness, frustrated with her restraints until he answered to her begging once more. It left her panting only his name. "Solas!... Oh, Solas--"
Then everything had went black. Solas groaned, raising his head up from the couch pillows around him. He heard the door knocking from the other side of his door. It took Solas a moment to even realize that this whole time he had been dreaming. He knew he had been in the Fade at some point in time, which was why everything had just seemed less complicated for him to try and make sense of it all. The Fade reacted to emotions and wishes, and now-- now it had a recorded piece of himself attached to it.
"Solas? Are you awake?" Lavellan's voice called from the other side of the door.
Solas' ears turned flat as he stared at the door in horror. He swallowed down the lump wanting to form in his throat because he could still feel his stiff girth trapped between his slacks and pressed between his left thigh and couch pillows. He could have flexed his muscles and almost dozed back off to sleep, humping the couch pillows for a little bit longer but that infernal knocking...
No. Solas couldn't slip back into sleep. Lavellan was on the other side of that door. She would walk in any minute, and she would know... No. Solas could not allow Lavellan to see him in such a state either. So, he stood up and ran off to the other side of the tower. Solas sought the back entrance, and opened it; quickly to brace the cold air to calm that heated rush in his loins.
The door behind him opened up and Lavellan wandered inside almost aimlessly until she saw him carefully looking over his shoulder to her. She raised an eyebrow slightly in confusion as she started to come closer; inch by inch, Lavellan started to notice other small signs about him as well.
"Didn't you hear me knocking?" She started to ask curiously.
"I was ... exercising..." He spoke a half-truth, and waited until the sharp wind had cooled his body before finding the confidence to turn back and face her.
"That explains the sweat, I guess..." She started to say after studying his pale face and look of exhaustion.
"Sweat?" Solas leaned away almost at an alarming rate, since he didn't trust himself to be touched just yet either. He moved past her then; excusing his own body language by creating a diversion instead...Anything at his desk at that moment would do. "Y-yes... Well... Nothing given, nothing gained, I suppose."
* "Please, boyfriend." "Good girl." ** "Stop." *** "Relax. Let me make you cum." *(4) "Please, f*** me!"