this town is only going to get worse.

[rowancrowned]

WHO: Thranduil and Solas / Adalia / Finch / Loki
WHAT: Catch-all log for July.
WHEN: Current, slight backdating to pre-negotiations.
WHERE: Various locations among Kirkwall, Skyhold.
NOTES: None applicable.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

Thranduil turns to look at him, fingertips pulling the curtain back to reveal the night sky, the stars.

"Instead you will see them at the Arlathvhen. I am very nearly jealous."

But there is the matter of Gwenaelle, and the upcoming conversion. Still, he would have liked to see it once, and been comforted by it.

"I fear I will sleep poorly tonight," he admits, letting the curtain slip past his fingers, and coming back to stand before the fireplace. "Will you be able to find me in the Fade, even when I am in Tevinter?"

[dirth]

"Those are not the People. They are the Dalish."

It's what he does when he is cornered and whipped with our people or your people. He is not of the Dalish, he is not of their world, not of their ilk. He is of the People, beyond anything the Dalish could hope to achieve without his input, his stories, his power. They are adrift, blaming their sins on the shoulders of the one who freed them, and Solas loathes it.

He breathes out, focussing, forcing himself to be calm, to relax, to settle.

"I can come to you, if you wish it." It wouldn't be the most difficult thing and Solas knows his powers in Dreaming are beyond that of anyone's estimation. "I could find you anywhere, my friend, no matter how far you go."

[rowancrowned]

"Come to me," he says. "I will not beg for your attention for more than one night of all the time we will spend there, but I will see things that will horrify me, and I will not sleep easily."

Thranduil favors him with a smile, leonine in its contentedness.

"There is no one I would rather have at my back." He walks back to the chair, leans against the side of it, rests his hand on Solas' shoulder, the shard bright in the fading light. "If I am ever lost, I trust that you will find me and bring me home."

[dirth]

"I will come," Solas promises, his voice careful and gentle, never pressing nor demanding. "If one night is all you ask then I am more than able to give it. I would not deny you that."

The return smile is as soft, calming. He would not deny Thranduil much, he thinks, given their roles, their positions.

His own hand lifts to touch his, resting over the Anchor. He does not try to soothe it this time, only feels the light of power that should be his own, that is a curse and a blessing to so many.

"And I shall find you," he promises, careful, gentle. "If you call for me, my friend, I shall find you."