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Heal and be healed.

One (1) single Solas headcanon and I’ve ended up a couple of days later with a whole ton of thoughts about their relationship. I don’t think it’s mentioned anywhere in the lore but I always imagine him as the only other healer in the Inner Circle? It brings them steadily closer.

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Make me

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ThePride

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secretsandhushedwhispers:

   “The demon itself isn’t the problem, it’s me. I can’t control how I feel and faking that I’m okay will only make things worse. So what do I do? Stay depressed and stressed? The only thing that would help his not being Inquisitor, but I can’t do that.” Eon ran a hand through his loose hair. His wrist rubbed up against his horn, making Eon take a moment to step back from the situation. He traced his nail along the groove in the center of his horn. They were his pride. One of the few things he liked about himself. Doing this helped him calm himself.

   Eon sat forward once again, looking at the fire for a brief moment before he looked back to Solas. “There is one other option I was considering. I have doubts everyone would allow me to go through with it though.” There was little logical reason for others to be against his idea. The logical part was the reason people hated it. Eon would no longer be Eon afterwards– the only defining parts of him that remain would be his body and his past.

   “One demon has already attempted to possess me in the past. As a mage, I run more of risk to getting possessed than others. As Inquisitor, the risk is heightened still. Since I suffer from depression, it makes this particular demon more of a threat to me. Even you could only help me so much.” Eon knew he shouldn’t even mention it to Solas, figuring the other might be angry at it. But it was still only one of his options. None of the options were optimal. At least this one had the best chance for his survival.

   Eon worked up the courage internally just to say it. After shaking his head and rubbing his head together, he let out a sigh and hoped the words would roll off his tongue.

   “I’m debating on going through with the Rite of Tranquility.”

    It was that tingle of discomfort at the base of his spine that ALERTED him to what words may follow; an atmosphere that had moments prior seemed to be LIFTING only thickened to stifle them both, like an inescapable humidity stealing away breath. Hardly the anxious type, but Solas found himself subtly FIDGETING while heeding his inquisitor’s admissions, and it was a sharp focus on the crackling flames that kept him ROOTED. He knew, without having to hear but a MURMUR, a statement upon that horizon would be the very LAST thing he desired to hear.

    And it was.

    He did not SHOUT. No EXCLAMATION despite the minute JOLT beneath his ribs otherwise urging a sound up his throat. In fact, void of proper ATTENTION, it would almost appear as though the apostate hadn’t a single reaction at all. The barely recognizable crinkle of his brows was visible only by the numerous shadows a campfire weaved across every stitch of his face, and even then, how SLIGHT it was. It was in long-suffering SILENCE he speculated how to REACT--not necessarily what instinct commanded, but what would best AID his friend in need.

    Likely SCOLDING him before that final breath even left his lips was rather the WORST option.

    So, calm, STOIC as he persistently PAINTED himself to be, he spoke in a lower timbre, twitching fingers closing around a knee he had propped up. “I understand you are AFRAID, Inquisitor--and for reasons only a FOOL would not be--but time has granted evidence of your rationality in situations which BEG for it; the head you carry on your shoulders is more secure than many I’ve encountered, and most of which are burdened with significantly less than you. Debate as you will, I advise you not to act RASHLY, lest you fall deeper into a hole from which you cannot ESCAPE. You are far from exhausting all OTHER options.”

    Never did those eyes venture back to Eon’s face, a resolute stare on the dwindling flames he no longer STOKED. “Inquisitor”--Solas gently shook his head--“we need you as you are NOW; I ask for nothing ELSE, because I would not have you CHANGE. Let me HELP you.”

Stars || Closed

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his cloak is full of secrets

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bravelink:

Link hadn’t thought gathering a simple golden butterfly to be all that impressive. But clearly the other had seen something in actions that seemed so to him. The phrase also spoken was one that happen to be familiar to him. Yet, no such reply was able to come from the young hero as the other brought his attention instead the clawshot that still remained in his left hand. So any such thoughts or words that had been about to form vanished for the time being.

Looking down at the device in question he honestly wasn’t sure if it was considered ancient. About the only things he knew about it was that it belonged to the zoras and had proven useful more than he thought it would have been. Not only able to grab things from a far but also lift him to places he otherwise wouldn’t able to get too. The second question was one he could answer as it really hadn’t been all that long ago. Even if in some ways it had seemed like it had since he had traveled to the temple below the water. Down in Lakebed Temple, which, normally only zoras were able traverse. If it hadn’t been for the late queens gift of the zora armor such a feat wouldn’t have been possible. That and also only after defeating a large toad had the device been obtained. And that only after said toad had regurgitated a chest. He really doubted the other wanted to hear the very specific details on how he obtained it.

“I had to travel to Lakebed Temple located in Lake Hylia.” He wasn’t sure if the other would exactly know where the temple in question was so figured he would explain that much at least. Perhaps he knew enough to know it was considered sacred to the zoras. “While there I obtained it. It’s proved very useful not just for gathering insects that are a bit out of my reach.” He offered the other a smile as he spoke before addressing his first question. “As for it actually being ancient I really can’t say. Perhaps you know more about it’s history than I do?”

    The subject of scrutiny--or perhaps ADMIRATION--the device in the hero’s hand became, as both sets of their eyes ventured across its make in a shared SILENCE trailing initial observation. It was an inquisitive nature that drove the wanderer, such CURIOSITY a portrait upon his visage marked by the enthusiasm of a SMILE. Seldom had he seen artifacts of the sort, perhaps mere READINGS of ancient text being all he had for reference, and even then, he dared not claim his being an EXPERT. Mysteries had a way of PERSISTING through ages of stories--both correct and not--transcending generation after generation.

    By now, was its true origin known by ANYONE?

    “That may be up for debate--a later time, perhaps?” he said, and yet how he FAILED to prevent himself from going just that single step further. “I have heard of some who believe it’s a craft of those who live in the sky. To others, a RELIC of the divine. I do not believe we’ll EVER know, but I find it FASCINATING, nevertheless.”

    Passionately, in that LIGHTER timbre, he had spoken, all the more invigorated by the realm of possibilities REAPING all potential of other topics to sidle in. It was in utter attentiveness, and with eyes BRIGHT like a child hearing their favorite story, he listened to the explanation answering him, falling silent only to be accented with nods of his understanding. So very thrilling, indeed. Even within all of his ventures, Solas hadn’t the PLEASURE of setting foot in places their fabled hero apparently could.

    “Lakebed Temple? You would mean the temple of the Zora populace? I had thought it IMPOSSIBLE for anyone else to wander there.” Again, that head COCKED. “You catch me ENVIOUS, Hero. Only in tales have I any knowledge of the place, and yet you’ve walked its no doubt vast halls yourself. Breathtaking, I imagine?”

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“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor.” “I’m glad someone was watching over me.”

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—Canticle of Threnodies 8:13

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So far Solavellan hell has been 50% actually being invested in the relationship and 50% absolutely loosing my mind over shit like this.

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Shiny husbands xD experimental gifs, ahh the quality is so dead :<

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What is the Old Dalish Curse

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    And so, the elf of the Dales revealed he was of the CLEVER sort, how he pinned the mock humor in his companion’s laugh and chose to ADDRESS it rather than let it pass. It should not have been even worthy of an arched brow of SURPRISE; indeed, Ameridan had wisdom stretching back further than any elf Solas had had the pleasure of acquainting himself with. He’d not so easily SHRUG off a near taunt in the ways the modern Dalish waved their dismissive hands at a crazy apostate’s RAMBLING.

    Perhaps, in a way of his subconscious maneuvers, it had been somewhat EXPECTED, for no flinch of one being CAUGHT answered. But he did look at him, calm and quiet, and absorbed his curiosity almost hungrily; how often did one genuinely WANT to know these things? To be told they were WRONG? He almost smiled. Rather, the tickle at the corner of his mouth begged him until he OBLIGED in the smallest of affirmations.

    “Lethallen.” Respectfully, Solas corrected himself, further EMPHASIZED by a nod. “That you show interest is a COMPLIMENT in itself. You may be one of the first; most would care little to hear of one’s ventures into the Fade, more so when the portrait of their past goes so AGAINST the beliefs to which they CLING.

    “You have the mark of Dirthamen, if I am not mistaken. A reflection of Falon’Din.”  He raised his chin toward the other’s face, a speculative KNOT forming between his brows. “Do you wear it proudly?”

@breachwielding  cont. from x

There was a sharpness to the younger elf’s laughter that did not pass Ameridan unnoticed.   It reminded him uncomfortably of the laughter one might hear,  hidden behind a fan or a mask at a ball among the ciriane peoples  —  the kind of laughter that followed a misstep that played in one’s favour,  or an insult cleverly disguised as wit.

If there was an insult in Solas’ words,  Ameridan was not sure.   They had clearly been spoken more to Solas himself than to anyone else,  and Ameridan did not know the other elf well enough  —  nor did he know the Dalish of this time well enough  —  to be certain he understood their meaning  —  and he didn’t want to assume there was anything malicious about them before he knew for sure.   No,  he was certain Solas had not meant what it sounded like he meant.

But neither could he let it go.

“ You seem very confident the Dalish are wrong,  and you right. “   It was an observation,  not an accusation  —  spoken gently as an invite for Solas to explain himself,  if perhaps also a hint that he should.   “ Or do I misunderstand you?   I know so little of the Dalish of this time,  even though they are my people.   But I want to learn  —  and there is no need to treat me as though I’m fragile. ”   He wouldn’t allow that from anyone,  no matter how well meant.   Momentarily his gaze fell away,  a slight pause as a decision was made.   “ I appreciate the sentiment,  and am glad to call you a friend,  but I prefer lethallen. “

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one thing I find funny about solas is that he genuinely and wholeheartedly is impressed when people aren’t arrogant or deceitful pricks. Like, it’s such a shock to him when he comes across someone who actually has an open mind and a kind heart and is just set into complete awe by them; it’s like he 100% has given up on the world—I mean, he has, hence his desire to just destroy it wtf solas—so anyone showing any common decency for some reason is just

wow that’s a thing people still have??

It’s ridiculous. It honestly makes me laugh because he’s the arrogant one here. He’s the one who’s behaving rashly and jumping the gun and being a deceitful prick the entirety of Inquisition. He has such a bleak outlook on the current state of the world and how horrible everything apparently is while he himself is behaving exactly how he hates seeing people behave. Solas is a hypocrite in so many ways I can’t believe.

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Veilfire: a memory of flames

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Elonni makes this joke at least 5 times a day and Dorian is TIRED.