#alora lavellan

[0alix0]

visualization of my previous post with addition from @whiskynorocks

[exalted-dawn]

A bunch of little sketches and doodles of OCs over in DAFF :3

@dreadfutures @oxygenforthewicked @inquisimer @nirikeehan @rosella-writes @monocytogenes @kiastirling

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

OC KISS WEEK 2025

Day 5: Worship | Pairing: Alora Lavellan & Thalia Trevelyan (@nirikeehan)

Rated G: Slice of Life, Family, Worldbuilding

Summary: After an accident during transit, a young Thalia is picked up by a Dalish clan after being found starving and injured in the woods. Until they can travel to a place where she could be safely left amongst her kind, Clan Lavellan decided to protect her and let her live amongst their own. As they travel, the Dalish celebrate the summer solstice, and she is taught a bit about Dalish tradition in the process.

~*~*~

Thalia shifted nervously, fidgeting in her spot as the Keeper continued to weave the tale of the Dalish All-Father roping the sun. The whole thing sent a slight thrill through her. If her mother or Miss Ernestine ever learned of this, she would surely be put on the horns. But somehow, that only seemed to stir further excitement in her. 

The fine skirts that Haleira had lent her wrinkled with her squirming, and out of habit, she immediately stilled and smoothed them.

To her side, Alora giggled. 

“It should be almost over,” she whispered, cranberry eyes creased with giddiness. Her flax hair had been twisted up into a crown of braids and flowers, a perfect mirror to Thalia’s, with wisps that fell into her face as she rocked forward with glee. “And then we can eat.” 

It was true that the platters of food laid out before them were not helping styme her anticipation. It had taken her a bit of time to get used to the Dalish diet, but even by her standards, the spread in front of them would make a plenty fine meal. There were platters of hearty brown breads served with halla butter, served alongside great bowls of rabbit stew and wilted wild greens. There were hearth cakes with warm berry jams and fruit wines and pheasant over onions. 

It felt as though her stomach might turn itself inside out with how hungry she was, looking at it all. It was enough to make her stop paying attention to the end of Keeper Deshanna’s story, even when she had been desperate to pay attention.

It wasn’t until the Keeper moved in front of them both, her long, ochre robes flooding their vision, that she was snapped back to herself. The older woman, with her falcon-like face and sharp-looking tattoos shaped like bull horns, smiled down at them. In her hands were a halved grapefruit and a jar of honey. 

“Before we can begin our feast, we remind ourselves of the blessings we celebrate each summer solstice.” 

Alora took the fruit and spooned a thin lace of honey over the top of it. For a moment, she almost looked to be praying; her eyes slid shut and she bowed her head, but no prayer came from her forth from her tongue. She just grinned and, with the delicate touch of a rose petal, brushed her lips across the fruit’s surface. 

Still smiling, she passed it over to Thalia and nodded encouragingly. Deshanna followed, and offered the jar of honey. 

“The halved fruit represents the sun,” Deshanna began to explain, her voice stately. “And the honey is the bounty we enjoy as a result of its light. Without the sun, we have no flowers that feed the bees, nor forests that shelter the animals we hunt. We have no fruits and no rolling fields in which to raise our halla. The All-Father’s gifts are sweet, and without them, so too goes our way of life.” 

Thalia looked over to Alora, unsure of whether she should accept or decline. She’d only been living amongst the clan for a few months now, but this felt like more than the long, ponderous services given by the Chantry Mothers on solstice days. It almost felt too personal, and too… well, sacred to be sharing with an outsider like her. 

But the young girl beside her just grinned and shook her head, miming with her hands the motion to raise the fruit to her lips and kiss it. “If you don’t, we can’t eat,” she hissed in a whisper, and then made another gesture as though to say ‘get on with it’. 

Thalia flushed, but nodded, not wanting to be the reason the meal was held up for the whole clan and now feeling a bit silly for being worried in the first place. Alora hardly seemed to think it was anything special at all. 

She ducked her head and brought her mouth to the fruit, letting its cool surface carefully touch her lips. The first thing she tasted was sweetness. The honey was warm with the flavor of summer, wildflowers, and… butterscotch? There was also a sourness– the citrus from the fruit bit at her tongue, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was instead tart and fresh. Forgetting herself and her lessons, Thalia smacked her lips as she savored the flavor, mindlessly passing on the grapefruit to Alora’s older brother, Nellas, who was sitting next in the row. 

Alora was beaming, her own mouth still a little shiny with the golden sweet. “Good, isn’t it?”

She nodded, giggling like she’d just gotten away with sneaking a pastry from the kitchen. “Very good! I’ve had grapefruit before, but normally it’s so sour. This one wasn’t at all like that!” 

“That’s because you’re from Ostwick.” Alora scrunched her nose, as if the very idea of her home city-state smelled like the stinkiest wheel of Anders sack cheese. “It’s too cold to grow them well there. You need to get them fresh from Antiva.”

“We didn’t grow them,” she huffed. “They would come in by boat. We had workers that would travel to the markets of Antiva and buy a whole shipload of food, and then sail back with it for us to eat.”

“Well then I don’t think your workers knew how to buy good food,” Alora said with a shrug. “Either that, or they must not have liked you very much.” 

Thalia opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it again, reconsidering. 

“Aloranna.” Haleira leaned forward to look at them both, her brow raised in the perfect picture of motherly scolding. 

Immediately, the smile fell from Alora’s face. “Ir abelas,” she squeaked, turning forward again. Her cheeks were quickly becoming the color of her mother’s blush palette. 

Unbidden, a delighted snicker slipped past her teeth, and she quickly moved to stifle the noise behind her hand. 

Well, she supposed some things must be the same no matter where you went. Thalia could still clearly remember the shape of her own mother’s scowl, her composed-but-clearly-disapproving expression, every time she or her siblings would act out at the dinner table or say something untoward. It felt good to be reminded that maybe things weren’t so different between her and the family she had been taken into. It could be an easy thing to forget. There had once been a time where dinners were simply meant to be suffered through, but just like the grapefruit, she was quickly discovering that they could be sweeter than she thought they’d be.

The Lavellans were teaching her that meals could be laced with sugar and filled with honey smiles, and in spite of all she was taught and all she knew to be right, Thalia wanted to be a part of it.

When Keeper Deshanna announced with gusto that it was time to eat, Thalia spoke her thanks just as readily as everyone else, and with a bright grin, dug in.

[nirikeehan]

wip wednesday

Thank you for the tag, @melisusthewee!

This week, in honor of @wolfs-dawn's birthday, I have put her OC Alora Lavellan and my OC Thalia Trevelyan into a spooky Situation™. They've gotten lost after one of their horses lost a shoe and they can't find their way back to Caer Bronach in Crestwood.

---

Thalia took a breath and let it out slowly. The threads of panic she’d been ignoring for hours began to seep in. Above the tree canopy, the sky was fading from pink to a navy blue; soon the stars would be out. It had all seemed so simple at lunchtime. Alora had arrived in Crestwood unexpectedly, sent to tend to the new retinue of horses operating out of Caer Bronach. Thalia and her field team were still in the region, sweeping the area for any lingering undead since closing the Fade rift under Old Crestwood. Now that the weather had improved, it seemed the perfect opportunity for a forest ride. 

They were without any camping supplies, having assumed they’d have a quick jaunt and be back at the keep by dinner. They’d gone without any escort or security detail, because that defeated the purpose of stepping out on work to spend your afternoon with a friend. It also meant no one knew where they were, or how to reach them. And the “shortcut” Thalia opted to take had only gotten them more lost. 

“So. What are our options?” Thalia asked, putting on the voice she used at the war table. 

“Er. Well. We could keep going,” Alora said. “Hope we find the main road again, or at least a village or crossroads inn that will take us for the night. Hope they have a farrier for Puck. I’ve got a few sovereigns in my pocket.” 

“Right. Or…” Thalia glanced at the grove of trees straddling the path. “I guess we could try sleeping here and set out again by the morning’s light.” 

“No offense, Your Worship,” Alora replied, “but I’m not keen on sleeping on the ground and foraging berries for our supper tonight. I know the Dalish have a reputation, but bad conditions favor nobody.” 

“All right, all right. We’ll go a little longer. But if it gets fully dark I think we need to reassess. These woods aren’t safe at night.” Thalia almost added that they were barely safe during the day, what with the reports of Red Templars out in the hills, but she didn’t want to add to Alora’s worry. That had barely been a consideration earlier in the day. 

The two continued down the desolate country road, the twilight deepening. Before long, the trees grew ever thicker, and a low mist rolled in along the ground. Ambient animal sounds drew nearer: crickets, hooting owls, and a fluttering of wings that might be bats. 

A high-pitched inhuman whine filled the air, distant but disquieting. 

Alora gasped, looking about as her horse whickered in fear. “What was that?” 

“Wolves, I think,” Thalia whispered. 

“Oh.” Alora’s voice trembled. “Right. Okay. Just wolves. Hungry for flesh and blood, probably.” She laughed nervously. “I take everything back. We should have stayed where we were.” 

“Wolves aren’t so bad,” Thalia said, trying to keep her voice light. “We could take them. I’ve got my staff and you’ve got your sword, right?” 

“Yeahhhh, um. About that…” 

“Alora.” Thalia stopped in her tracks. “You didn’t bring it?” 

“I didn’t think I’d need it! In my defense.” 

“Of course.” Maybe Thalia should have told her about the Red Templars. Or the dragon she’d spied circling the air south of the Crestwood dam. Or the reports of wyvern sightings in the area. “Well. I know this much: when we get back, Blackwall is going to be furious.” 

She imagined what the stoic, black-clad Grey Warden was doing in her absence. Probably pacing about Caer Bronach, seething. He misliked letting her get into intrigues on her own. Which, given how dangerous much of the Thedosian wilderness had proven to be, was probably wise.  

“Is now really the time to bring him up?” Alora asked, urging Alassa through a particularly dense patch of fog. “Creators, I swear sometimes that man acts more like your babysitter than your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Thalia huffed. “He’s my sworn knight and protector.” 

“Ah, I see. So your babysitter and your boyfriend.” 

Thalia was about to hotly contest what must be a Dalish cultural misunderstanding of knightly chivalry, but Alora let out a small yelp. “Wait, hang on! I think I see something up ahead.” 

---

Tagging, if interested:

@anneapocalypse | @rakshadow | @oxygenforthewicked | @highwayphantoms | @monocytogenes | @inquisimer | @delicatefade | @demarogue | @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul | @little--abyss | @whirrlinginrags | @theluckywizard

[cosmic-cris-draws]

You ever just play Women,,,

[badartxd]

Bone jour! I’m sliding back into y’all’s feed with @wolfs-dawn ‘s Alora!! I’m low key settled on associating the word bean with her in my brain oops XD

[alorastormrider]

Grey Warden Alanna Thorne and her older sister, Inquisitor Alora Lavellan (of Solavellan notoriety)

Alanna is all for a Solavellan reconciliation but first she’d like to punch Solas twice—once for her sister’s broken heart and once for the honor of Clan Lavellan

She’s also still salty about her sister’s vallaslin because they used to match and look like twins, except for their different eye colors

“Neve, meet Rook… thought we could use an expert in trouble.” DAMN but they set that banter up early, don’t they? Really enjoying the near-constant references to trouble in my second playthrough.

Eann “Rook” Aldwir, chaos goblin and spellblade extraordinaire 💕 Expression studies from screenshots, because I love her and I can.

(P.S. Does anyone want a sketch of their Rook in this style? I could use the practice! If you send/link a screenshot I’ll give it a go and post them here.)

[theluckywizard]

@exalted-dawn’s OC

Aloranna “Alora” Lavellan and Solas 🥰

Alora is described as well-meaning, awkward, friendly, introverted, lacking in self-confidence and a bit of a nerd and a goof! Also she’s a horse girl 🐴

I had so much fun painting these two in my ‘pastelly’ style! Thank you for giving me leave to draw her!

[0alix0]

made this peace a year or two before the veilguard and actually i'm surprised how well i recreated her

[shaelascanlon]

Alora sounds like the kind of person that my Inquisitor would really get along with.

(In my worldstate, Ellana wanted to invite Mihris to join Clan Lavellan, but she ended up introducing her to Keeper Hawen, instead.)

Why I Hate the Solavellan Ending of Veilguard

I should probably label this post “Why the Solavellan Ending Isn’t Canon for My Inquisitor,” but I’m tired, so: My Inquisitor wants to destroy the Veil. She wants to restore her people’s connection to the Fade. She wants to free the spirits imprisoned by the Veil. If she appeared on that rooftop, she wouldn’t be on Rook’s side. My Inquisitor would never abandon her clan. She wasn’t angry or heartbroken when Solas backed away from their romance, because she believed that he was putting his duty to his people (the ancient elves they had just met in the Temple of Mythal) ahead of his own happiness, and she would do the exact same thing. She doesn’t believe that he would abandon his people—she doesn’t recognize the man calling himself Solas in the so-called Redeem ending—but if he did, she wouldn’t go with him. My Inquisitor would never break the promise she made to Solas at the beginning of Inquisition—“You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you.” In every ending of Veilguard, Rook binds and imprisons Solas because they can’t face the consequences of their own actions. (They freed Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, and they weren’t strong enough to reimprison them without killing them.) In the Sacrifice and Fight endings, they use force to bind Solas to the Veil. In the Outsmart ending, they use deception. But in the Redeem ending, they use Solas’s own desire to help. My Inquisitor would never be a part of it.

[exalted-dawn]

Art I did for the DAFF Satinalia Exchange! Alora and @bluewren ‘s Tali are sitting down for a meal and conversation :3

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

Helloooo I come with a double whammy of "[Suddenly feels around the bed to search for the other’s hand / body when they’re sleeping] [Extends a hand when they see the other was searching for it while they’re sleeping]" for Solas x Alora

;w; I am so emo about this I hope you enjoy the mundane angst Solas has to struggle for the sin of loving someone. for @dadrunkwriting

Rated G: Slice of Life, Solas-typical angst, ~650 words

To Be Enough | Exalted_Dawn

When Solas felt the gentle nudge against his thigh, he simply brushed it off as happenstance. He disregarded the touch, shifting so that Alora could rest without interruption. Since returning from the Western Approach, it was becoming an increasing struggle for her to sleep fully through to dawn. Sleepless nights predated dismal mornings, her typically aurelian smile growing dimmer with the increasingly darkened circles that rimmed her eyes. It was because of this that he often found himself now losing sleep, just to ensure that she slept first. 

Tonight had been no different. He sat awake now, book in hand, with a constant mind on his wards. Simple spells to keep her from wandering too deeply into the Fade. Anything to buy her a few more hours of peace. 

Perhaps that was why, when her hand tapped his leg again, Solas was awake enough to let it capture his attention. Alora’s brows were furrowed with tension, a faint frown marring her shadowed features. The expression twisted her scarlet vallaslin and hid freckles between the creases near her clenched eyes. Solas scowled at that. Was she having another nightmare, even with the aid of his wards?

He bent over her to brush a strengthening spell across her forehead, but before he could even touch his fingers to her skin, a half-formed murmur floated up from below. 

“...olas?”

Her hand brushed upwards, creating a wake of folded fabric in the blankets following her touch. Though they could hardly be considered anything more than twitches, her fingers began to flex and unfurl, first once but then repeatedly. Almost as if she were… 

His eyes flicked down to his own splayed hand beneath him, a mere span of inches from her own. Something bitter twisted in his chest as the realization struck him. A knife blow from which a deep sorrow blossomed. He continued to watch for a moment as Alora groped for him in her sleep, and suddenly his being here felt inexplicably cruel. For weeks now, he had been forced to lie to himself– to create empty reasons to excuse his continued presence by her side. But ironically enough, wrapped in night’s thickest shrouds, his deceptions could not be more clear to him. He should not be sharing a room with her. A bed. This was more than what was required to keep himself close to her. 

…More than what was required, but less than what he wished for. 

Ever selfishly, he dropped his hand instead to brush his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. A touch’s kiss. 

She deserved better. 

Alora groaned quietly again, chasing his touch as he drew it away, even in her sleep. He saw the stirrings of wakefulness beneath her eyelids, how the slight flutter of lashes became sharper and more pronounced. Almost unthinkingly, he dropped his hand over hers, squeezing it just so. As firmly as one might dare hold to a dream, for all its fragility.

She deserved better– someone who would hold her hand in theirs without the intent of release. One day, the empty space in this bed would be filled once more, and when she reached out for touch, they would not hesitate to take her hand. It would be one day soon, he imagined. She would find someone better than him. 

But for now, her hand need not go upheld. Her bed, unshared. It was a kindness, he told himself. It was also a lie. But as her turned towards her, pulling Alora gently into his arms, he decided it was one he could live with. So he settled, tucking her head beneath his chin where she fit so perfectly. He was not without his flaws, nor his sins. And if this was to be another, then so be it. She deserved better, but perhaps for now… tonight, he could be enough.

[nirikeehan]

>:3 Hi Niri >:3 I has a prompt for you >:3 Thalia and Alora "Characters struggling to talk because they’re about to cry." Happy Firday >:3

HI ED thank you!! Here are two horse girls trying to contend with the disaster of Thalia's love life. I hope I did Alora justice!

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 913

---

“What? What is it?” Alora implored. 

Thalia wiped at her eyes. “I— I— he—” She couldn’t get the words out. Every breath felt like a choking gasp that clawed at her throat. 

“Deep breaths, all right?” Alora reached forward and grasped Thalia by the shoulders. “In and out. Slowly. Count to three. In, two, three… that’s right. Out, two, three…”

Slowly, Thalia managed to match her breathing to Alora’s gentle guidance. She tried to focus on her friend: the long, straw-colored braid that fell loose over her shoulder, the delicate calligraphy that tattooed her face, called vallaslin by the Dalish. Thalia had wondered what it was like to choose to have oneself marked instead of being forced to endure such things, like she had at the Circle. 

“I’m sorry,” Thalia mumbled, sinking low on the divan they shared in her Skyhold quarters. “I just… don’t understand what happened.” 

“Start at the beginning, maybe?” 

“Ugh.” How could she even pinpoint the beginning? Was it when she first realized the Warden was flirting with her, by the stables at Haven? Or must she admit it went back farther still, when she sought him out in the Hinterlands and saw the way he handled the conscripted farmers, firm but fair? 

Neither, she decided. “So, he invited me to the Storm Coast.” 

Alora’s eyebrows furrowed. “Oh?”

“Alone,” Thalia added. 

“Oh.” The small crease between Alora’s brows deepened.

Thalia’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “To an abandoned Warden outpost.”

“Oh. Ohhhh.” Alora placed a gentle hand over Thalia’s. “Did you… you know—?”

“No!” Thalia cried. “Well, I mean, I thought— perhaps— those were his intentions…” She felt her face grow hot. 

“Are you saying they weren’t?” Alora asked, confused. 

Relief washed over Thalia. “All right, so it isn’t just me.” 

A coy grin slipped onto Alora’s face. “I mean. I’m not exactly an expert, but if a dashing older man wants to whisk you away to a secluded, clandestine location…”

“Exactly! Exactly.” Thalia huffed. “But no, that’s not happened at all. We didn’t even make it to the outpost. We just… he found the site where he and his Warden colleagues were ambushed by darkspawn… their bones were still there, Alora. And he just sort of… got sad. In the rain.” 

Alora’s eyes widened in horror. “That… doesn’t make any sense!” 

“Nor did it make any to me!” Thalia sat up, growing more animated from the agitating memories. “And then… last night… he just appeared. Right over there.” 

She pointed to the balcony door, and Alora gasped, hands clutching her mouth. “He didn’t!”

“He did,” Thalia insisted, forcing herself to settle down again on the divan. “It was the most forward thing a man has ever done to me.”

Alora leaned back against the armrest, her eyes as wide as an owl’s as the firelight played on her face. “And?”

Thalia pressed her lips together, averting her face. “He kissed me.” 

“And?” 

Thalia sighed, and again the tears threatened to fall. She thought of the way Blackwall had grabbed her, the ferocity behind the embrace and the mouth pressed against hers. “He… he kept saying I had to end things between us. That it wasn’t right, but he wasn’t strong enough to — to resist me. So I had to be the one to do it.” The bitterness crept into her tone. Her frustration she’d felt for months now bubbled to the surface. Blackwall and his big grandiose statements. Blackwall and his insistence that somehow his love for a lady like her could only be poison. 

Alora’s face fell. “Oh, Thalia. You didn’t.” 

“What else was I supposed to do?”  she demanded. 

“Not what he says! That’s just a ploy, isn’t it? What he really wanted you to do was say—” She affected a higher-pitched version of Thalia’s Ostwick accent. “‘Oh, Warden Blackwall, I don’t care about all that. We belong together, no matter what. I’ll follow you to the very depths of the Deep Roads, if it meant we could spend one more second in each other’s loving embrace.’”

Thalia’s lip curled in disgust. “Is that really what I sound like?”

“Well. I embellished a little for dramatic effect.” Alora shrugged. “But I think I’m right.” 

Thalia scowled; she knew it was true. Neither of them were all that worldly when it came to love, but even Thalia could sense that Blackwall’s deep brooding possessed some element of craving validation. It angered her so much, however, that he couldn’t simply make his intentions plain. She crossed her arms over her chest, stewing. 

“Sooo,” Alora said into the silence, “I’m guessing he got cross and left?” 

Thalia blew out an impatient breath that lifted the wisps of hair around her face. “You guess correctly.” 

Alora swallowed hard. Thalia watched her friend search for words, only to settle on, “Yikes.” 

“I know. I know.” Thalia scrubbed her hands down her face. “What do I do?” 

Alora squinted. “Try to talk to him?” 

“He’s been avoiding me all day.” 

“I know!” Alora pulled in a leg to hug against her chest. “We lock all the barn doors so he can’t escape, and then you climb in that opening that’s in the loft…”

Thalia stifled a laugh. “And then what?” 

Alora gave a helpless shrug. “Love conquers all?” 

“If only.” Thalia sighed.

“Er. Well.” Alora chewed her lip. “If you really think it’s hopeless… there’s always the Commander, yeah?”

Thalia grabbed a throw pillow and smacked her with it. “Oh, stop!” 

[cosmic-cris-draws]

Dragon Age is a dating sim TO ME

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

happy dadwc friday! maybe solas/alora and "a deer darting away under the trees" from the sensory prompts list?

Filling this prompt for you and for @dreadfutures uwu Have a bit of angsty wolf Solas watching Alora from the corners of her dreams ;w;

for @dadrunkwriting

Rated G: Angst, ~500 Words

A Wolf Amidst The Trees | By Exalted_Dawn

In dreams, he means to appear to her as himself. If things were simple, perhaps he would be able to. But instead, he comes to her as he is, not as he was first. Brindle fur, the color of sun-touched earth, moves seamlessly between the trees as he follows her. She is a smudge of white and gold at the forest’s edge, stark against browning meadow grass. Once, she used to appear to him as herself. Pale hair like wheat and inquisitive red eyes that searched the treeline for any sign or tell of his passing. Her voice, a scythe through the woods on the few occasions that she did notice him.

She used to chase him. Begging. Calling his name. ‘Solas’. And it would always be he who ran first. 

Now, though, the form he tracked was no longer the one he remembered. Golden hair was replaced by long, twisting antlers stained a yellow ivory color, and the pallor of her skin was no longer the subtly tanned peach that he recalled tasting beneath every kiss. Now she was enshrouded by a pelt of snow white fur. The guise of one of Ghilan’nain’s halla.

And now, when she spotted him lurking amidst the trees, she did not give chase. She would stand and stare. Silent, as he was silent. And they would stay as such– a halla in her field, and a wolf in his forest. Separated by the natural divide of light and shadow. They would stay until the dream faded, becoming nothing more than a vision behind his eyes as he woke. 

He had to wonder if that was what she saw herself as now. His prey. Was that why she no longer gave chase, even as she hunted him in the waking world? 

The thought saddened him. Scared him, even. 

Perhaps that was why he never dared draw closer. Once he had had a reason– her safety, he had told himself. To ensure she still lived and that she slept sound at night. He had already been too cruel in letting her get close once, and she had gotten hurt for it, but from a distance, he could protect her, at least for a time. He could keep her in his gaze until the day came that they would meet and their conflict would come to bare. 

Now though, standing under her gaze, he knew he was simply scared. Scared that he would take a step and she would go bounding off and would hide herself amidst the far glade, disappearing amongst the trees. 

He feared that she would go somewhere that he could not follow.

So he stood still in the safety of his shadows, watching her through wolven eyes. Letting himself be watched in turn. And ignoring the quiet, juvenile hope in his heart that she might come closer. 

That she could still find it in herself to take a single step. 

Foolishly, he hoped.

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

Happy Friday Ed! How about "when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more" for Solas and Alora?

heheheheheheh I finally managed to fill a prompt THE WORDS ARE RETURNING! Thank you very much Lucky for this prompt I pay you with a snippet from post Fade Tongue uwu For @dadrunkwriting

Rated T: Public sexy kissing LOL ~300 words

Answers | By Exalted_Dawn

The words came out all tangled-like. Breathless and stumbled over. “I- I’m sorry, but I-” She swallowed a soft gasp, lips wet and shining in the soft light of the wall torch above them. “Are you sure you-” 

The words were swallowed up without hesitation, artist’s thumbs brushing against her cheek. “Yes.” Solas breathed the word cleanly as a knife cut before he resumed kissing her, pushing her further, more firmly, against the wall.  

She was certain that, from a late night passerby’s perspective, the two of them probably looked ridiculous. Solas was at least a head and a half taller than her, and had to bend sharply just to reach her mouth. She was certain they looked ridiculous, because Solas was covered in paint and she was somehow even a brighter shade of red than the scarlet that coated his fingers. They looked ridiculous, because he was him and she was her, and this was their second first kiss and she had no clue what she was doing. 

But with heady sigh and sweeping tongue, Solas pushed away all doubts. He kissed her harder, the touch of him undeniably real, and Alora had to admit that she found herself becoming hopelessly convinced. She had come to him after the dream for reassurance– an answer to a question. 

Which one, she wasn’t sure: Was it a mistake? Did you regret it? Why? For what reason?

Solas answered them all with stunning simplicity. His hands sifted into her hair, pulling her closer. She sighed, fingers a knot in his shirt. Yes, she had come for an answer, and as always, he gave it.