[semi-open] Solas Returns

[singularwill]

WHO: Solas, open to: the Advisors, the Inner Circle, and peeps who want CR that have checked with me first. Hit me up here if you aren't sure
WHAT: Solace returns to Skyhold
WHEN: Drakonis 25 and onward
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: general warning for eggheads

Advisors

He brought the Rifters to the castle, but spent little time getting them acquainted, other than introducing them to a few of the scouts, who then were told to show them around the castle and find out who they were supposed to report to.

Solas had his own reports to make. And his own questions.

So when he burst into the War Room, mid-meeting, he was already starting on them before anyone had the chance to question him.

"Exactly how many shard bearers does the Inquisition have? I have just brought four with me, and I have heard rumours of the others, but--"


Inner Circle/Previous CR

He also made careful note to visit the others of the Inner Circle, whether or not he was personally fond of him. He needed to be brought fully up to date with the workings of the Inquisition, and the Herald's original Inner Circle were the best way to ascertain that.

So he sought each out, wherever they could be found, and offered a greeting. Some more formal than others.


[ooc: just go ahead and set up where they are and I'll have Solas approach them individually. Cass: you can have a post-advisor thread for one-on-one if you like!]


For Everyone Else

[Contact me OOC and I can set you up an individual starter.]

Comments

[arsebiscuit]

Solas' return to the Inquisition is marked by Sera loosening one of the legs of his chair so it gives a nice little wobble when he sits. She waits to see his first sitting in person by lounging on the top of one of the many construction platforms in the room, doodling stick figures onto a blank bit of wall with the paint that had appeared in the room with the apostate's return.

[singularwill]

He had gone looking for Sera, but the day was growing late, he was tired, and she was not in the haunts he expected. So eventually he headed back to his room at the base of the tower, to quickly jot down the thoughts he had been having through most of the day, as to not loose them. His head was down, as he entered, and he sat down in his chair with a little less grace than he would have done had he not thought he was alone.

It wobbled.

It didn't bother him at first - he barely noticed - but when he reached out to dip his quill in ink, it wobbled quite a bit more warningly, and he stopped, frowning down at his chair.

He cursed in elven as he stood up to adjust it, and only then noticed that there was someone watching him up above, from the scaffolding.

"Sera. I take it this is your handiwork?"

[arsebiscuit]

She scooted over so her legs dangled down over the edge, idly kicking her feet as she could finally give in to the urge to laugh.

"Knew you wouldn't be able to stand it. Proper and prepared elf. Wasn't thinking you'd be back, yeah?"

[singularwill]

He let out a breath, trying not to look annoyed, pushing the chair back under the desk. He would deal with it later. He wasn't going to be able to write with Sera hanging around his room like a monkey, waiting for her to lob something at him.

And he had been intending on seeing her.

"I am sure anyone who enjoys sitting would find that incredibly annoying, however proper or prepared. Is this where you've been? I went looking for you in your quarters, and found them otherwise occupied."

[arsebiscuit]

"Whatcha doing that for? I only did the chair," she paused to give a small giggle, "so far."

She's not coming down yet, not until she's sure she knows what the mage is about. Looking for her? Did he see some weird dream thing where she'd slapped a dalish in the fast or something?

[colecomfort]

A familiar stillness had crossed the threshold into Skyhold. A stillness that lay over something more harmonious — a tone that rang with the same sound the stones made.

Cole waited a while — at least, he didn't go right away. Solas would have things to do. He'd brought more people, more pieces of the anchor. He knew. He'd need to learn more, and the others would want to tell him. To begin with, there was nothing more important than that. So Cole waited, and went about his own work.

When Solas sought him out, he'd find Cole standing in the courtyard with one of the younger recruits. As he got close enough to overhear...

"—it wasn't your fault." Cole held up his hand toward the recruit's chest. Something shifted — then the young soldier looked away, past Cole, through him, and wandered away. Cole nodded toward the grass.

"Here, and there, and here again. Some don't come back. Sometimes it doesn't make sense." And sometimes it did. He looked toward Solas, though not directly at him, the brim of his hat not quite revealing his eyes.

[singularwill]

"No, life would not be nearly so difficult, if it did," Solas mused lowly. Finding Cole had been difficult, at first. He couldn't ask after him - so few even remembered him - and for a heartbeat he was worried that the spirit had left entirely.

So seeing Cole lifted a burden from his heart.

"I, at least, have returned. And I am happy to see that you still remain."

[colecomfort]

"This is where I can help." Where else would he be? Cole looked off to his right, as if catching a stray thread of thought... but didn't pursue it.

"The light scattered, but the Inquisition didn't. People still want it to be something, so it can be."

[singularwill]

Solas smiled, and the smile was true, and warm, and fond. Because Cole was not wrong. This was where he could help, and it seemed he had managed to do so, without losing himself. It was a relief.

"So it appears. I had not thought it possible. The anchor should have been destroyed, when - when its bearer was killed." There's the briefest hesitation, but he doesn't say her name. He had not expected to feel grief, for anyone here. It had been an unpleasant realisation, but it was simply another sorrow he would have to bear.

"But it remains. So there is some hope for us after all."

[colecomfort]

Cole crossed his arms as he listened, his shoulders canting at an angle... but the petulance in his posture started to fade around the mention of the Herald, and had completely gone by the time Solas spoke of hope. Cole had very nearly been angry with him — the more time went on, the more difficult it had been to believe that Solas simply hadn't heard about the people coming through the rifts. Had it turned out that Solas' grief had kept him from continuing his work despite that knowledge...

But that wasn't the case. Any anger or disappointment that might have been was forgotten, superseded by all the questions Cole had been aching to ask the only person who might have answers. Such as — had Solas known there were other worlds, ones beyond the physical and the Fade?

(Cole would save that question for a little bit later, though if there was some related strand of thought in Solas' mind, Cole might catch it before he actually asked.)

"The shards are stuck in bones and skin." He placed a hand over his own chest, echoing the place where Sina's was. "Some too close to the heart. They need healing."

[liberalum]

Baths are more of an event in the Imperium. From the lake-sized steam houses formed of marble and gold, to the excess of perfumes staining the water garden colours, to the attendants, slave or servant, assisting in the undressing, the washing, the grooming, the serving of wine in pitchers and fruit in silver bowls. A level of decadence that no, was not every day even for the elite, but somehow drifts up from Dorian's recollection whenever he assesses the bathing situation of Skyhold.

Oh well. One must make do.

And he manages rather well, now that Skyhold isn't falling apart around them and he has just enough coin to handle his own requisitions rather than rely on what Inquisition officers laughably refer to as soap, which is often scentless, greasy, and veined in grey.

The bath he's claimed for himself is wide and deep and while it could accommodate more people, Dorian has it to himself. Which might be for the best, because anyone coming nearer is hit with a potent floral scent that the literal garden with its literal flowers could only wish to achieve. The surface of the steaming water is frothed and opaque, obscuring most of Dorian's body beneath the horizon his shoulders and the spread of his arms back, head tipped back. A wiggle of his fingers, a glimmer of warm, golden light shimmering, and more steam rises as the water churns hotter, magically.

This would definitely be a terrible time to be interrupted.

[singularwill]

He hadn't expected the bath. It hadn't been there, before, and so Solas had made no effort to announce himself before striding into the room, already calling out: "Dorian?" before stopping dead on finally laying his eyes on the mage.

"Ah. Am I interrupting?" He asked wryly, arching an eyebrow.

It was, possibly, the most ludicrous thing he could have imagined. To find, in the heart of the elvhen stronghold, a Tevinter mage bubbling away in a magically fueled bath tub...

What had the world come to?

[liberalum]

Dorian's startle is mostly in the form of being jarred out of his relaxed slump and looking towards the sound of his name, and at the sight of Solas, his arms retract into the warm water, bodily sliding down a few inches as if to preserve his modesty (and cover more chest area than he walks around with on a regular basis).

"Solas," he returns, slightly unguarded, pushing around the soapy froth on the surface of the bath to, you know, gather strategically. "Only if you had intent to join me, I suppose."

If he's to be judged for his extravagances, he may as well do it while warm and contented, unwilling to spring out of the bath and into some towels for the sake of just anything, Solas included. He lists back into his recline, a slight slosh of magically warmed water escaping the edges of the smooth wooden rim. "To what do we all owe the pleasure? Checking in, or sticking around this time?"

[singularwill]

"I think I will pass," Solas mused, eyebrow still arched, though he made sure to keep his eyes fixed squarely on Dorian's face, and ignore the strategically gathers bubbles.

"I had thought my usefulness had come to an end, but apparently I was wrong." He said it almost cheerfully, just a little barb. How about you, Dorian? The tone seemed to ask. Here for the baths, or have you actually managed to do anything while you have been here.

"I came across a rift just as it was pulling otherworlders through the Veil."

[liberalum]

The corners of Dorian's eyes wrinkle. Probably a smile, if the accompanying twitch of mustache is anything to go by. He isn't rushing to respond to hidden question, and indeed, seems to only relax in luxury a little further, a slosh of water following a comfortable repositioning of his legs, feet appearing to cross ankles at the other side.

Ah, yes, a little wooden bath tub of slightly gritty mountain water that he has to warm himself. Truly the life.

"There's been several of those lately. They present something of an academic challenge. On the one hand, you've got unprecedented access to empirical evidence as to the existence of parallel universes and a host of subjects quite willing to talk, and on the other-- well. Where does one begin? Especially given public opinion as to their being lying demons, spies of Corypheus himself."

[hugeinorlais]

Varric isn't, as a rule, a terribly difficult dwarf to find. He has always been fond of public hangouts, has stationed himself in the middle of things, and relishes in activity all around him. After a few key...shall we say disagreements with the Seeker, however, Varric decided to take his show on the road...so to speak. (At least, temporarily.)

So, when he finally ran into Chuckles, it was a surprise for the both of them. Solas was walking down stairs, Varric was coming out of a largely empty vault, clanging a ladle against an empty pan. He nearly plowed right into the elf and, as he caught himself, ended up spending several seconds just peering at him. Eventually, he ascertained whatever he was trying for, and nodded at him.

"Chuckles! Tell me the Kid didn't actually locate you with posters," Varric requested, by way of greeting, and made no excuses for his strange accouterments.

[singularwill]

"Ah - Master Tethras," Solas replied, after having managed to right himself without falling down the stairs, and with only the slightest twitch of an eyebrow at the ladle and pan.

"Posters? Unfortunately, I cannot claim such a thing. I happened upon a rift, just as it was bringing shard bearers from beyond the veil. I was called into action, as it were. I admit I find myself surprised to see you still here. Though pleasantly so."

[hugeinorlais]

There was something eminently comforting about hearing Chuckles's polite, conversational tone. It was a weird thought to have, Varric recognized that, but there it was. ...Then again, given all the wacky fade/spirit/mage shit that was going on, having the fade/spirit/weird mage shit expert back would be comforting, wouldn't it?

"Yeah, well, what can I say?" Varric replied in a tone that was something like 70% relieved and 30% affected flippancy. "It's not like everything is less likely to explode or catch fire in Kirkwall and, besides, if I left who would bother the Seeker?"

His shrug was a well-practiced one and slotted into conversation as easily as punctuation.

"So, you here to stay or is this your new thing? Wandering off only to return weeks later, shepherding groups of doomed foreigners to their inevitably terrible fate?"

Varric paused a beat and grimaced.

"Ah, sorry, that sounded less jaded and fatalistic in my head. I should have gone lighter with that, shouldn't I? Shit--let's try something else--did you know the Dalish read my books?"

[singularwill]

He didn't quite live up to his nickname - merely looking bemused, rather than chuckling - but he waited until Varric had finished before addressing any of it.

"The Dalish? I find that... surprising. But no, I'm not intending to 'wander off' again. I think, now, I can argue fairly effectively for the necessity of keeping myself alive and relatively unchained." There was almost a teasing tilt to his voice, but he was being honest. There were a good many reasons not to stick around, once the Herald had perished.

"But if you are finding it hard to keep from being 'jaded and fatalistic', then I worry that perhaps it is worse than I feared."

[hugeinorlais]

"Yeah, apparently they trade copies of my stuff at that big meet'n'greet they throw every few years. Who knew?"

Varric made an idle, dismissive motion with one hand. If the hand had been free, it would have been a wave, as it was, he just sort of ended up swirling a ladle about in the air casually...as casually as one could wave kitchen utensils around, that is.

"And don't take my griping too seriously, if you hadn't already heard, a few old friends of mine showed up recently. Great people, very friendly, only mostly wanted by the authorities or the Chantry--"

Varric paused and regarded Solas with an abrupt and moderately pained expression. There were a wide range of warnings he should give to Solas: Anders and Vengeance/Justice, Isabella, the myriad of Dalish friends he had kicking around now, but the dwarf decided that Fenris got priority here. After all, artsy nerds who spend large amounts of time sleeping and chatting with spirits? Not likely to fare well against angry, broody anti-mage warrior elves.

He hesitated a moment before gesturing at the elf with the ladle.

"Speaking of: if you see a broody elf with striking tattoos laced with lyrium, I would...avoid him. Possibly forever."

Library, ho.

[fleurdesel]

She hasn't managed to quite stake out a proper table for her own just yet- between the research of whatever creatures that needs doing, the entire alcove Dorian has stolen for his own use, a desire to not linger about Grand Enchanter Fiona's work or get caught by the stairs- space is limited. But now and then she's able to find a table and take it for a few hours, a day if she is lucky. Tea cold at her elbow, books stacked about and notes arranged neatly between those on rifts, those on the fade, and those on rifters as she compiles and cross references what is available compared to what she has observed.

A few hours more before she must be whisked off to another meeting and she'd prefer to have as much work done before that comes to pass. The weight of eyes on her pricks Adelaide's attention eventually- without looking up she points to the chair opposite and the myriad of forms laid before it. "If you've a shard and concerns fill out the first form, if you are concerned over those with shards fill out the second, if you are an apprentice seeking a mentor fill out the third, if you have a mentor and find they are a poor fit fill out the fourth, if you are not a mage, not a rifter, and have concerns about mages or rifters fill out the fifth, if you have a concern for the Mage Council fill out the sixth, if you wish to train as a spirit healer fill out the seventh, if you are a mage and having concerning dreams give me a moment to finish this paragraph and we will speak, if you are Dorian I do not have any more brandy I mean to share with you, if you are François- kindly fuck off as I have another few hours before the next noble you wish to force upon me."

[singularwill]

Solas had not even had time to open his mouth to greet the councillor before the wave of words washed over him. Long ago, he would have gotten frustrated half way through the monologue and interrupted, annoyed, but he was no longer the same impetuous elf of his youth.

So instead he simply smiled, bemused, and waited for her to finish.

"And if I am none of the above?" He finally asked, the humour making his tone lilt with the question. "Should I write my own form, and then fill it out, for an introduction?"

[fleurdesel]

"...Beg pardon?" She blinked, tipping her head back to stare. Spend enough time peering at cramped lettering and everything else swam when you attempt to focus elsewhere. "If you are none of the above- you are something of a unicorn."

But a unicorn worth humoring. Pen set aside she rolls out a cramp in her shoulders. "How might I help you?"

[singularwill]

The amused smile was still on his lips, and he tilted his head slightly as he watched her.

"From what I understand, I am hoping we may help each other. You are Councillor Adelaide LeBlanc, are you not? I am Solas. I assisted the Inquisition when the breach first appeared, and helped to decipher the use of the Anchor. I understand that you have been studying the shards during my absence."

[fleurdesel]

"Oh merci foutre, vous êtes réel." Adelaide sagged in her chair, relief flooding her voice. She'd heard rumors and stories, a few assorted mutters here and there about the missing apostate but nothing that seemed or sounded solid enough to consider 'yes this man was real and he simply isn't here anymore'. But he was real.

He was here.

And he knew the herald, had seen the breach up close, had seen her anchor. "I am. Please, sit. Let me-"

Clearing the forms away, trying to pick through her research to find what wasn't in Orlesian or in her cramped shorthand- something had to be in Common. "I have a copy of this in Common somewhere, one moment."