the holy dove was moving too

[dirth]

WHO: Solas and you
WHAT: Open post
WHEN: Throughout the entire month
WHERE: All around Kirkwall
NOTES: N/A

LIBRARY.

Solas spends much of his time in the library as he always does. There are books open in front of him. They're written in Common, in Elven, one or two with scraps of Qunlat littered around the margins (this is Kirkwall, after all). He is devouring what he can, still studying and investigating everything that he can, making notes and putting pieces of parchment to one side, putting things to one side, closing books but not getting up to put them away.

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.

He sits in a corner keeping to himself, waiting, frowning, reading and reading. He makes himself comfortable eventually, pouring himself a cup of something to drink - not tea - before he gives himself a moment to shut his eyes and relax.

KIRKWALL.

When not in the library, Solas can be found wandering Kirkwall, investigating things he might have otherwise missed. He doesn't linger much in taverns or bars - they're hardly the kind of place he'd waste his time, even if it means he might be able to discover more of what the 'common' people might be interested in - but he does travel to Darktown at times, does look into the depths of what it is like for the elves here, offering what he can to aid them as little as it might be. He is a familiar face to some of them: they are absent from the Dalish and so the two of them get along far better than he might with anyone of the clans.

Eventually, he makes his way back to the Inquisition proper and spends a little time wandering around the gardens, arms crossed behind his back and his attention focussed on the herbs, on the plants, on the things that interest him. He does not seem to mind being interrupted, if anyone has the desire, and he seems in a pleasant enough mood before he makes himself comfortable on a bench, drawing a book from somewhere and beginning to read, flicking the pages absently.

WILDCARD.

( Find him in the Gallows, near his room, hanging near Galadriel and anywhere else your heart desires! )

Comments

[shri]

"There was a land. One of many rivers, and filled with many kinds of people. Places that were green, lush and dense, so hot it felt like being wrapped in a blanket that opened onto a beautiful ocean. Others dry, arrid, with huge palaces cut into the rocky landscape that though they had no forests, they carved them as intricately as a jungle. It was ancient, for thousands of years, many had come. Not always peacefully, or with kindness in the heart, and there were fierce battle, proud warriors. The land was rich with spices, even poor men and women would adorn themselves like flowers. But in time, this land of many rivers softened them and they became part of it. Many people desired it after all, but soon they came to love it, they were part of it as it was part of them."

Lakshmi taps her finger, the nail clicking on the wood. Painting the history of Hindustan was a hard thing to summarise briefly, especially when so briefly to not weigh him down in details.

"But then another Empire came. They didn't care about the people. In fact, they didn't even consider them human - people - as you would say. They compared this land of so many cultures, faiths, nations, men and women to beasts. Beasts they did not value as more than labour. For their empire was so proud of itself it never thought it could be responsible of an ever greater evil. Monsters came dressed in their uniform, and at night, they turned into monsters and slipped into villages of the poor and hungry and like the wolves they twisted into, they ate them. Tore them limb from limb. Empty and hungry, and so much stronger. It took ten full warrior men to take down one if they were lucky. What chance did a farmer have?"

She swallows, the taste of blood thick between her teeth, the dust patching the back of her throat. but he had seen it in the fade with her. He had seen the red coated men. How their bodies twisted and ripped apart and devoured all in their path. Ripped and destroyed and gloried in their gluttony of gore.

"And the empire that had come to rule, did not care to know. It didn't want to know as long as they could get rich off this land, what did they care for their suffering? If the people were too busy fighting to survive the very night, how could the care when the temples were destroyed? Sacred animals slaughtered, thousands, thousands of years of traditions over turned."

Her tapping stops. Then she fixes, unafraid, vicious in a way that compared to the flare of her temper at different points, was cold and hot and so fixed on one, single point at the end of this story. "It is not guilt, Master Solas. Misunderstand me on all manner of things, but not this. It is not guilt."

[dirth]

Solas listens, and he thinks of home.

Not the Inquisition. Nor Kirkwall or Skyhold or the world of Thedas now; not even the Fade, wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, a warmth that he could not ignore or pretend to not miss. Thinking of Arlathan leaves a deep ache in his chest; he thinks of the magic there, the great libraries, the spirits and the people, awake and those lost in their sleep and dreams, and he feels the urge to lean his head down and breathe out, to try and force himself to relax, overcome him.

He does not, of course. He resists.

"Empires often do not care about the people who are present when they find a new place to live. The elves learned that." His fault. It makes the soft ache of pain burst into an echo of pain, and he turns his head away, awkward and unsure. It's his fault that the People suffered, that they lost their immortality, their strength - everything lies at his feet. There's no denying that the humans had forced the elves to suffer, but it would never have been a possibility if he had not existed in the first place.

Leaning back, Solas makes himself comfortable again, forcing himself to breathe out and relax. Lakshmi is speaking of her experiences, and Solas respects that; he respects her, even if he isn't sure that he can trust the depth of who she is and her place here. She plays with magics, she plays with her own strength, and he is wary of what that means for them in the future. He cannot let what she knows become common knowledge; it is too dangerous. Far, far too dangerous.

"I understand." Empathy, then. Not guilt, but a kind of empathy that he can respect. It is not pitying, not desperate to try and find some place to demand respect - just understanding. "I apologise for speaking out of turn."

[shri]

"I think I am the last one who is concerned when people are speaking out of turn."

A brief bubble of laughter at her own expense, the mouth on her that no, she didn't make any apologies for ( but when did she anything ? ). Instead, with it, she settles, easing back into her own chair. A jangle, of her belled anklets clattering in a faint chime, as one leg crosses itself below the table.

"But I could shout loudly again if you like, perhaps then I could find a new way to cross our Commanders."

[dirth]

"I think you might be surprised by how vocal some members of our organisation are."

Solas doesn't sound particularly cross or irritated with it; almost fond, or wryly amused. He's not accustomed to people who are trying to limit themselves or quiet their voices. He's more used to people being a touch on the side of argumentative, people who are more than happy to speak beyond their turns and demand that they be listened to, even if what they have to say has very little worth merit.

He shakes his head.

"No, it is unnecessary. I cede to your point."

[shri]

"Perhaps not, I... do not believe we here are so cruel as our detractors might want to think."

She smiles, brief, a tucked away thing as she smoothes a piece of hair away from her face. Only for it drop right back in the way, swaying agains the fixing of gold on her brow. It's idle, perhaps, a certain kind of easiness in present company.

Or maybe it is just that with him and anyone else of that room that had heard the truth, she is removed of a particular kind of burden that lets her ankles cross, her back lean into the chair and take a moment to form her words.

Because there is one more thing to be said.

"I am glad to find you, however... There is one matter I wish to speak to you about. Namely, that I want to give you my apologies. For... dragging you into the Fade."

[dirth]

"No, perhaps not."

Solas might debate otherwise, but he has neither the will to do it nor the desire to antagonise - not today, at least. Perhaps, with someone else, he might be somewhat more intense and vocal about some of the things he takes issue with, but for now he is more than willing to accept the fact that they can leave matters where they are.

It's clear that Lakshmi's intention was not to come and debate politics or semantics with him, not to learn the true history of the elves and Tevinter in depth. No, there is something else, his head tilted as he watches her -

and there it is. He shakes his head, almost amused.

"It was no trouble to me. I enjoyed the experience."

[shri]

That is news to hear. Her eyebrows lift, eyes sharp a moment as she is settled back into her back, fingers paused half uncurled, on the edge of something more than a pleasant exchange but resolute in keeping it so.

"... You are one of few it seems. Why is that?"

[dirth]

"To see the Fade physically? That is something that few can ever hope to experience."

Solas seems at ease, content with talking about this; it's not something that concerns him at all. His interest in the Fade is a long standing piece of information known to anyone who might join the Inquisition; he's also the one that takes good care of anyone with an Anchor shard. He's in a very unique position.

"I enjoyed seeing the other side of the Veil on a personal level."

[shri]

"This... Fade." She hovers, it still feels wrong, no matter the dangers that were said to her over again, how they spoke of mages, spirits, demons. It was wrong and confusing.

"... What is it?"

[dirth]

"That depends on who you ask."

Solas knows, of course; he had been part of the Fade since he had woken, knowing what his place was and what he had done to help create it. Something tickles at the back of his eyes and he breathes out, sharp and sure, motioning to the books.

"The Chantry says that it is a realm of primeval matter from which the Maker himself formed the physical world. Others consider it more akin to a well of souls. The Dalish think that it is holy, that it was once the home of the gods"

[shri]

"That is a lot of explanations." And not one she knows where to start from, not as an outsider, separated for all their differing dogmas.

Because what she thinks it is, hardly matters. "What do you think it is?"

[dirth]

"Many people have tried to label and define the Fade, but no one can really know the reality of it. We might hazard a guess, based on our visit to the Fade physically, but unless everyone has that experience we might not be able to truly make it well believed."

He shakes his head, touching the table again.

"It is the home of spirits and great, vast knowledge."

[shri]

She shakes her head, sighs a moment. "One day I suppose I will understand these divisions."

Or maybe she does, and it just goes against some fundamental understanding of the universe that she had, that some part of her digs her heels in.

"Could not all three be true?"

[dirth]

"One day we all might be able to have such an understanding, but until that time comes we will simply have to theorise."

So sayeth the man who is more likely to know than anyone. His understanding of the Fade and the Veil is far, far deeper than anyone might ever be able to guess, bu there's no desire in him to allow Lakshmi to be aware of too much.

"Possibly."

[shri]

"Rather then why is that not the theory? If we speak of the realm of God, Spirits, Knowledge and understanding. Why must one be the truth?"

It takes her a moment, trying to form what she had been taught at her father's knee. Though she was not to be remembered as a great scholar, that much she could be sure of, she was the daughter of a Brahmin, taught the stories devoutly as any other of her caste even if she had a mind to weapons and fighting. Teased out her own understanding of the world. She is not a deep thinker, perhaps, but at least a practical one to what she knows.

"We have three great Gods out of our thousands of others. They are Shiva, Vishnu and Brahma. Brahma is always part of... this realm. For he is creation itself. Then there is Vishnu, who can never enter as himself, he is the maintainer, he may only have avatars that serve as part of him. Then there is Shiva, the destroyer, who may travel through both freely, and does so with no care for time or place. All three states exist, at once, and not one contradicts the other. Could not such a thing also be true here and this fade?"

[dirth]

"Perhaps because there are many who do not wish to embrace the idea that their theories are not the true ones."

The Chantry is one; Tevinter, another, and then the Dalish. They all have their own varied ideas about what the Fade is, how the Veil came to be, what their Gods might have to do with it, and not all of them are particularly close to the truth. Solas knows what it is because he had seen it, had been there to build it and shape it with his bare hands - and he knows that he can theorise why people think the way they do.

He had seen enough of the world to recognise the origins of theories, even if he neither trusts nor agrees with them.

"The people of this world have their own Gods and do not wish to share those domains with any others. There have been countless arguments and battles on the notion."