she is all the colours in one.

[dirth]

WHO: Solas and Galadriel
WHAT: Solas had a Bad Field Trip and is sad.
WHEN: On his return from the Temple of Falon'din
WHERE: In Solas' room
NOTES: References to terrible Temple things (suicide, blood, death)

The Temple had been nothing that Solas had anticipated.

He had expected the old elven architecture and the artefacts; those were things that were easy to guess and imagine, especially in something as old as a Temple to one of the evanuris. He had even imagined, perhaps, a handful of spirits or guardians, something to test them, to judge them, to push them one way or another. He imagined that it would be something familiar, easy to figure out, easy to encourage his fellows into following his lead. Who else would know as much about this type of place than him, after all? He had lived it, breathed it, shouldered it.

He had not expected it to break his heart the way it had done. Reminders of the pain he had caused written in clear lettering. Bodies of dead elves that would never wake from their long sleep. Spirits calling for him, damning him, wearing the guise of someone he had cherished and adored. Each step, each pathway, had split his heart open and left him feeling broken and unsure, his hands shaking and his mind numbing and the burden of it pressing down on his shoulders, carrying that weight from the escape across the river of blood all the way back to Kirkwall itself. It's something that Solas cannot shrug off, no matter what attempts he might make.

There's not much time nor space for Solas to sleep as he might usually and when he gets back to his room he spends a long space of time considering his options now. The Temple had opened his eyes to a great deal of things, that is true, and the weight of that is bearing down on him all the more. He doesn't feel as though he can do anything right now, in this moment, and he knows that it's the weight of uncertainty and guilt pressing down on him; a few days, a reminder of his cause, his mistakes, his duty, then he will be fine. He'll return to what he was before, determined and powerful.

Until then... He does very little, at least until there's a gentle knocking at his door. There are very few people that might come to seek him out and few still that he would consider speaking to, so he is wary when he comes to the door to open it, only relaxing when he sees a familiar face.

"Galadriel. Please, come in."