( Elera feels dwarfed here, among the ruins of the fortress that now belongs to her; ill fit to command an army of an organization that has caused more suffering for her people than she can count. Not that she doesn't know how to lead; she has been training to do that since she was young -- but the Inquisition something else. Alien, shemlen, no matter who made up its ranks. It's not something she wants, this weight and this title, but it is her's.
And, even as her bare feet echo on the stone floors of Skyhold itself, there's a possessiveness that seeps into the cracks. This is her's, this power, the ability to do something while everyone else is paralyzed or refuses. Elera swears to make it count for something, somehow.
She knows that she should see to those who rely on her -- the new arrivals and the politicians from what seems like all of Thedas, but she can't help but seek out the familiar faces first. Diplomacy can wait. Right now, there are those she wants to see that don't involve pomp and circumstance -- Solas being one of them. Perhaps a bit more than just a friendly face, Elera thinks, although she would never presume to know his own feelings. But she knows her heart well, and that Solas is above all else, a private person. Her infatuation would have to simply exist, and Elera has made her peace with it.
At least until he made some sign that there was a chance for reciprocation.
Pushing those thoughts to the back of her head, Elera runs through her mental list of questions to ask. Like how did he find this place, did he know anything about it, has he tried to sleep and explore it in the Fade? Her curiosity simmers under her skin as she makes her way towards the place he'd claimed for himself, making no attempt to muffle her footsteps or the sound of the door behind her as she steps into the rotunda.
Well, it seems like someone hasn't wasted any time getting comfortable. )
You've already made yourself right at home. ( She says, throwing Solas a teasing grin as she leans against the doorway. ) I thought for sure it would take a little longer.
( He was a nomadic soul, after all, and she wouldn't have thought he'd settle so quickly into having a room and space to call his own. Creators know she hadn't even visited her room yet -- there'd been a quiet bench in the garden that she'd curled up on for a few hours. The stone walls give a sense of permanence that even Haven didn't have, and Elera isn't certain she's ready to admit that she won't be returning back to her clan for a good long while yet. )
[Skyhold. He has returned, after so many ages. It seems scarcely real. He is standing, leaning on his new Inquisition-supplied desk. He's taking a pause in setting up his new lodgings, so that he may contemplate.
Is it fate or is it chance? The question is from the far distant memories of his youth. Long ago, when he sat at her side in attendance, she posed it to him many times, always in the same wry tone. Upon her shoulders sat the heavy twin burdens of rulership and adjudication. When weighing such matters she would oft sink into deep rumination before delivering her verdicts. In such a mood, she would sometimes muse aloud to him. This particular query ā€“ always phrased the same way ā€“ was habitual. With all he has witnessed over the past days, he has cause to think on it again.
An elf, chosen by Andraste, has earned human faith. They thought her dead in Corypheusā€™ siege, in the avalanche she called down to save them all. But, miraculously, she lived, for Andraste's arms shielded her from death. She walked through a blizzard to find her huddled masses, hopeless and desperate without her. She rallied them, and guided them through forbidding Frostback Mountains to castle in the sky. One long lost, but now shall serve as the home for these lost pilgrims.
A good story, and one he takes craftsmanā€™s satisfaction in having helped engineer. It will serve well for winning over the humans. But Solas is deriving his own hope from this, too. Not in what the humans will say, but in the truth, in all he himself has seen. In the moment, in the people, in her. Elera.
Though he himself is not sure what to make of it. He does not believe her guided by divine providence, but by her immense will and drive. Her spirit, glowing with impossible brilliance, draws them all to her. She has taken to leadership with an unexpected subtlety and deftness, and her spirit, glowing with impossible brilliance, ever draws her followers to her.
Yet her accomplishments remain those of a scared, vulnerable mortal, and they are all the braver and more remarkable for that. When they were separated and the avalanche crashed over Haven he thought, briefly --
As though in answer to where his thoughts have led him, she appears, framed in the doorway. (Fate or chance?) When he sees her come to him like this ā€“ freely, just to talk ā€“ it feels as though a light enters him. It is always surprising. His heart may beat faster, but he outwardly remains calm and level. There are eyes all around in his new, open room ā€“ he chose it for that very reason. Itā€™s a chance to set an example, so he greets her, formally, with her new title:]
Inquisitor.
[He tilts his head, considering her. He thinks: Skyhold is hers, now. Itā€™s pleasing.]
And why would I not? It is as good a ruin as any other for setting my pack down... Though perhaps I do so more easily with the knowledge that this does not mark an end to my travels. Far from it, judging by the the latest talk of what comes next for the Inquisition.
[A grin appears to mirror her own.] I think you the greater surprise. You appear to be relishing in this place. Have you not been running all about ā€“ delving into the secrets of the deepest chambers, balancing on the highest ramparts? Dalish, yet your confidence here is downright proprietorial.
( Back at the beginning of all of this, Solas had been a welcome sight -- another elven apostate in a sea of religious shemlen. There was common ground there that she didn't share with any of the others; it had endeared him to her as a friend. After all, she had meant it when she told him she would do whatever she had to in order to keep them from using his good intentions against him.
It's that companionship that she seeks now, with the weight of her new position resting across her shoulders. A familiar face, a soothing voice that seemed to have an answer for everything. Even if she disagreed with him on much, she can't deny that part of the draw is the way they push against each other -- he challenges her to be better, to be sharper -- and she's thankful for it.
So he welcomes her into his space, and she greets him with another smile and dip of her own head. )
Just Elera, please. Or Lavellan, if you must -- I can already tell I'm going to get sick of the title before long.
( Perhaps. There's something to be said to having a title that makes the shemlen pay attention, that gives everyone a small amount of pause to think "perhaps she does know what she's talking about." It had been hard to have herself be overheard over the title of Herald. But she is in control of Inquisitor, of who that is and what it means. Elera will see to it that they cannot forget that she is Dalish, or that they gave her the position in the first place. )
Even better -- you don't need to keep the spiders at bay with bribery here. ( A gentle tease. He's right, however, there is far more work ahead of them than simply staying here and waiting for the trouble to come to them. Although that will happen whether she wants it or not -- that much she's sure of.
Elera has the good sense to look slightly guilty when he calls her out so clearly, only partly ashamed. It hadn't been something she'd planned to broadcast so easily, but neither had she intended on keeping it secret. The seeming contradiction is obvious: how could she be both Dalish and keep a handle on her new position among the shemlen?
If she were going to be completely honest with herself, she doesn't know. But she has enough faith in herself to believe she will come out the same person, or at least still her. This new position cannot go to her head, even as she begins spinning plans on how to make it work for her. The contradiction doesn't occur to her, at least not yet. )
The novelty of having my own castle hasn't worn off yet. ( She says, waving it away with a grin. ) I think it might actually be a first for any Dalish. Unless you know of anyone else who's stumbled across one in the middle of the mountains.
( An open invitation for him to talk more about this place's history. He knew where to find it, after all, even if she doesn't understand how. Solas has never turned down a chance to talk, and Elera's banking on that not having changd. )
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And, even as her bare feet echo on the stone floors of Skyhold itself, there's a possessiveness that seeps into the cracks. This is her's, this power, the ability to do something while everyone else is paralyzed or refuses. Elera swears to make it count for something, somehow.
She knows that she should see to those who rely on her -- the new arrivals and the politicians from what seems like all of Thedas, but she can't help but seek out the familiar faces first. Diplomacy can wait. Right now, there are those she wants to see that don't involve pomp and circumstance -- Solas being one of them. Perhaps a bit more than just a friendly face, Elera thinks, although she would never presume to know his own feelings. But she knows her heart well, and that Solas is above all else, a private person. Her infatuation would have to simply exist, and Elera has made her peace with it.
At least until he made some sign that there was a chance for reciprocation.
Pushing those thoughts to the back of her head, Elera runs through her mental list of questions to ask. Like how did he find this place, did he know anything about it, has he tried to sleep and explore it in the Fade? Her curiosity simmers under her skin as she makes her way towards the place he'd claimed for himself, making no attempt to muffle her footsteps or the sound of the door behind her as she steps into the rotunda.
Well, it seems like someone hasn't wasted any time getting comfortable. )
You've already made yourself right at home. ( She says, throwing Solas a teasing grin as she leans against the doorway. ) I thought for sure it would take a little longer.
( He was a nomadic soul, after all, and she wouldn't have thought he'd settle so quickly into having a room and space to call his own. Creators know she hadn't even visited her room yet -- there'd been a quiet bench in the garden that she'd curled up on for a few hours. The stone walls give a sense of permanence that even Haven didn't have, and Elera isn't certain she's ready to admit that she won't be returning back to her clan for a good long while yet. )
no subject
Is it fate or is it chance? The question is from the far distant memories of his youth. Long ago, when he sat at her side in attendance, she posed it to him many times, always in the same wry tone. Upon her shoulders sat the heavy twin burdens of rulership and adjudication. When weighing such matters she would oft sink into deep rumination before delivering her verdicts. In such a mood, she would sometimes muse aloud to him. This particular query ā€“ always phrased the same way ā€“ was habitual. With all he has witnessed over the past days, he has cause to think on it again.
An elf, chosen by Andraste, has earned human faith. They thought her dead in Corypheusā€™ siege, in the avalanche she called down to save them all. But, miraculously, she lived, for Andraste's arms shielded her from death. She walked through a blizzard to find her huddled masses, hopeless and desperate without her. She rallied them, and guided them through forbidding Frostback Mountains to castle in the sky. One long lost, but now shall serve as the home for these lost pilgrims.
A good story, and one he takes craftsmanā€™s satisfaction in having helped engineer. It will serve well for winning over the humans. But Solas is deriving his own hope from this, too. Not in what the humans will say, but in the truth, in all he himself has seen. In the moment, in the people, in her. Elera.
Though he himself is not sure what to make of it. He does not believe her guided by divine providence, but by her immense will and drive. Her spirit, glowing with impossible brilliance, draws them all to her. She has taken to leadership with an unexpected subtlety and deftness, and her spirit, glowing with impossible brilliance, ever draws her followers to her.
Yet her accomplishments remain those of a scared, vulnerable mortal, and they are all the braver and more remarkable for that. When they were separated and the avalanche crashed over Haven he thought, briefly --
As though in answer to where his thoughts have led him, she appears, framed in the doorway. (Fate or chance?) When he sees her come to him like this ā€“ freely, just to talk ā€“ it feels as though a light enters him. It is always surprising. His heart may beat faster, but he outwardly remains calm and level. There are eyes all around in his new, open room ā€“ he chose it for that very reason. Itā€™s a chance to set an example, so he greets her, formally, with her new title:]
Inquisitor.
[He tilts his head, considering her. He thinks: Skyhold is hers, now. Itā€™s pleasing.]
And why would I not? It is as good a ruin as any other for setting my pack down... Though perhaps I do so more easily with the knowledge that this does not mark an end to my travels. Far from it, judging by the the latest talk of what comes next for the Inquisition.
[A grin appears to mirror her own.] I think you the greater surprise. You appear to be relishing in this place. Have you not been running all about ā€“ delving into the secrets of the deepest chambers, balancing on the highest ramparts? Dalish, yet your confidence here is downright proprietorial.
no subject
It's that companionship that she seeks now, with the weight of her new position resting across her shoulders. A familiar face, a soothing voice that seemed to have an answer for everything. Even if she disagreed with him on much, she can't deny that part of the draw is the way they push against each other -- he challenges her to be better, to be sharper -- and she's thankful for it.
So he welcomes her into his space, and she greets him with another smile and dip of her own head. )
Just Elera, please. Or Lavellan, if you must -- I can already tell I'm going to get sick of the title before long.
( Perhaps. There's something to be said to having a title that makes the shemlen pay attention, that gives everyone a small amount of pause to think "perhaps she does know what she's talking about." It had been hard to have herself be overheard over the title of Herald. But she is in control of Inquisitor, of who that is and what it means. Elera will see to it that they cannot forget that she is Dalish, or that they gave her the position in the first place. )
Even better -- you don't need to keep the spiders at bay with bribery here. ( A gentle tease. He's right, however, there is far more work ahead of them than simply staying here and waiting for the trouble to come to them. Although that will happen whether she wants it or not -- that much she's sure of.
Elera has the good sense to look slightly guilty when he calls her out so clearly, only partly ashamed. It hadn't been something she'd planned to broadcast so easily, but neither had she intended on keeping it secret. The seeming contradiction is obvious: how could she be both Dalish and keep a handle on her new position among the shemlen?
If she were going to be completely honest with herself, she doesn't know. But she has enough faith in herself to believe she will come out the same person, or at least still her. This new position cannot go to her head, even as she begins spinning plans on how to make it work for her. The contradiction doesn't occur to her, at least not yet. )
The novelty of having my own castle hasn't worn off yet. ( She says, waving it away with a grin. ) I think it might actually be a first for any Dalish. Unless you know of anyone else who's stumbled across one in the middle of the mountains.
( An open invitation for him to talk more about this place's history. He knew where to find it, after all, even if she doesn't understand how. Solas has never turned down a chance to talk, and Elera's banking on that not having changd. )