faderift | a blaze of light in every word.

WHO: Solas + open!
WHAT: Lots of research thanks to Solas' keen intellectual interest
WHEN: During Phase One
WHERE: The libraries, mostly
NOTES: Feel free to ping me (

aziraphale) if you'd like something specific.

FIRST FEW DAYS

Solas spends the majority of his time in the library, and had done long before the sickness had started to take shape, so he assumes that it will not be particularly suspect that he has begun to spend more time there. There are books laid out over the table in front of him, pages open in a way that seems entirely at random, and folded pieces of parchment marking other areas for further study and interest; there's a notation on herbs in one book and another has a small set of healing spells that might prove useful, even if he's not inclined to go out of his way to heal anyone he meets.

What proves clear, eventually, is just how much time Solas is actually spending in his studies. For a man that enjoys sleeping as much as he does he is not getting much of it - and he has no other symptoms, so this is clearly a personal endeavour rather than anything from his own suffering. The piles of books get larger, higher, and he can often be found scowling at them, as if they should have more answers than they do, as if the hours he had spent uncovering the history of Kirkwall had been entirely pointless.

It had been, in a way, at least in his eyes; he had come no closer to the answers he sought. At least he was taking a break, a few days in, settling in his chair with water in a glass in front of him - no tea for now, he thinks, because the welcome arms of the Fade would be more than enough to soothe his rattled nervous. He is looking for something - someone - to blame, and so far he has found nothing to calm the storm in his own mind.

LATER IN THE WEEK

Once the week has moved forward and the symptoms have begun to get worse, Solas has taken something akin to desperate measures. Anyone who knows him well will recognise his absence from the library - those times he can be found sleeping in his room, a light barrier around him, deep in sleep as he searches for something. One of those times he comes out of his sleep and moves swiftly back to the library, beginning to write a series of notes down on parchment before - somehow - the knowledge slips from his mind. It's clear that he's learned something, but what it is isn't something that he's prepared to be vocal about.

The books on his desk have begun to change from healing tomes and medicinal diaries to scholarly notes on the Fade and the Veil, and the pages have just as many bookmarks as the others. The desk seems lighter, at least, and there's space for someone to come and join him, to settle down and quiz him. He also takes the time out of his studying to visit the nameless Rifter, and comes back just as quiet and solemn as he had been before; clearly, he's been checking on the man and his shard, but nothing has come of it.

More than anything else, Solas seems frustrated, uncertain and bristling with it. He has dipped into the Fade and the spirits there had little information for him, and the books have just as little. For the first time in a very long time he does not know what to do or how to help, and it leaves him remarkably tense.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Unsurprised, Inessa echoes the sigh. "His anchor seems no different from any other, that I have seen." She frowns, both stumped and unnerved. There seems to be so little they can do for anchor-bearers anyway, but at least the vast majority are conscious. That this man can't manage that much is troubling, and has her wondering what they've missed, what is preventing him from rousing on his own. Then she straightens a little, that frown becoming a more thoughtful one.

"If he cannot come to us, what about going to him instead? Could he be reached in the Fade?"

"I would agree with the assessment. I have seen nothing that makes him odd in comparison to the others." Which is frustrating enough. He can't see anything about this anchor that could explain why the Rifter has yet to wake, and nothing that Solas has tried has done anything to change his state - it doesn't even seem as though the anchor itself is causing him any trouble in whatever deep sleep he's in. It's clear that Solas isn't particularly happy about it, but he turns to look over at Inessa carefully.

"I am uncertain. I could make the attempt, but I am not certain that it would be as fruitful as we hope."

Inessa straightens a little, her gaze lingering over the prone rifter though it's clear that from head to toe, there's nothing about him which explains anything about his present state. She nods, not about to push undue hope onto a random idea, but unable to abandon it either.

"Nothing is certain, but no other options come to mind, at least not currently. Even if we cannot directly aid him, what we learn might set us on the course needed to correct this." Her gaze shifts away for a moment, back to Solas. "I would not put all this on you alone; if enough lyrium is accessible, it's worth considering sending in other mages as well. Perhaps they may not be needed, but I would rather overprepare than underestimate the risk."

There is nothing particularly special about the Rifter either, other than the rather odd nature of him almost slipping from the mind the longer you're away from him. Solas is drawn back because of the anchor, of course, but even he finds remembering him difficult, as though he slips from his mind like water through a sieve. Disturbing, and worthy of note, but he's not entirely sure how to deal with it beyond constantly reminding himself.

"I can make the attempt, sometime soon." He's already been prepared to talk to the spirits about him, at least, to see if they can recognise anything about him, but he's not sure what sort of answer he hopes to get. "If there is anything to be done then I will certainly ask the mages for aid. Otherwise, I think it best not to give people cause to worry."

Her gaze doesn't linger long on Solas, though that's due to the presence of the patient and how easy it is to let him slip from her mind if not staring right at him. It's an unusual and interesting phenomenon, to be sure, but one thing at a time. The matter of his comatose state is more of a pressing issue, assuming the two aren't linked.

"People are already alarmed enough as it is, that's quite true." She crosses her arms, lips curved in a thoughtful frown. "Even so, I am ready and willing to assist however I can, if it comes to that. We...couldn't save the girl with the chest-shard. It's something that weighs heavily on the minds of many in the project. If we can save someone else...."

There is very little that Solas knows about this man - the spirits had been evasive and uncertain, likely because he was a Rifter and beyond their usual ilk - but he's aware that whatever is afflicting him had been present before he had arrived in Thedas proper. Whatever that is, Solas cannot say, but he can't help feeling frustrated and at a loss, trying to connect a dozen thoughts that have no real link to one another.

"Her death was unavoidable," it's not said cruelly, and Solas doesn't mean it a dismissal of the pain that it had caused, but he knows how some people regard him in the wake of her death. It needs to be clarified so that he is not vilified - a strange turn of events, that would bring a grim smile to his lips if it were the time or the place for it. "I do not think that what he suffers is borne from Thedas. I think it may be beyond our means."

"...I know it was." Solas' words are met with a defeated rather than accusatory expression. Sina's death was unavoidable, though the irrational part that seeks blame places it upon herself rather than Solas. No one else has a chest shard at the moment (thank the Maker) but that hasn't lessened her concerns, or the strong desire to counter it with a change for the better. This man's issue may not be related, but even so, he's a rifter. He's still a point of interest and concern for the project.

"Perhaps it is, but I hope we can exhaust all other considerations beforehand. If nothing else, studying his condition might at least prepare us for another such arrival." The thought has her shaking her head -disturbed at the notion of it happening again- but for all they know, it could.

It doesn't make him look particularly good, he assumes to be on the defensive, but with Gwenaëlle's visit hanging heavily in his mind he's aware of the fact that people are looking for someone to blame - and his sudden arrival in Kirkwall is more than enough to give them ammunition. He doesn't want to be brought forward and accused of something he did not do, but it feels more like a technicality than anything else, especially in the eyes of those that had lost someone they cared about so deeply.

"I am noting whatever I can," which isn't much, even for his studiousness. There's very little change, and his anchor has done nothing that's required much of Solas' intervention, which is odd for those newly stumbled through the Rifts. It makes him frown, his hands crossing behinds his back. "I'll make sure to continue. There is no documentation of this illness, so ours may be the first in history."

There's a twist of her lips that's not exactly a smile as she nods to that. "A fascinating thought, were it not for the life at stake. What happens will set a precedent, one way or another.

Thank you for your diligence, Solas. If you need assistance or a break, please don't hesitate to ask. If I can't be here, someone from the project will." She fully intends to, but it entirely depends certain unpredictable matters of later.

"Thank you," short and simple, and what he means. He respects her recognition of what he is doing, but he knows that it'll be seen as a reflection of what he has done in the past - helped those suffering with the weight of the anchor because of his careful and studied knowledge of the Fade and the Veil. No one has questioned him on it too far, which he is thankful for.

"I will make sure to keep the healers aware of his condition, should anything change. I am doing what I can, but there are no promises that can be made for his health."

a blaze of light in every word.

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