[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

[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."