#ayelet lavellan

[melodious-stars]

Longing;

(A commission for @dirthara-mama. Thank you so much hun, I hope you like this!!! Ayelet Lavellan x Solas abound everyone. Prompt: Angst. The first time Solas realizes he misses Ayelet, but I kinda messed with it a little bit. Solas just took over!!)

-x-

The first time he leaves her, a part of him splinters and never stops. A spirit of pride he had been, once, but somehow she is the only one who ever gives him pause, makes him doubt. It is... distracting. 

And after Wisdom's death, it cannot be allowed.

He leaves her there in the plains - the bodies of the mages still burning - anger hot in his veins, the taste of ash in his mouth.

He leaves and it is fury and death and isolation (it will never be his friend again).

He is alone.

-x-

It is her who leaves him the second time, and it is grief and love and wrath so entwined it is almost unbearable.

You are perfect exactly as you are...

The reminder of Ghilan'nain is stretched across her face, bitter memory in his mouth, but he means it; she is perfection even still. He loves her. He loves her.

He kisses her like he cannot get enough, starving, aching, and in that moment he almost gives up everything... almost.

But in the end he cannot escape who he is, not even for her.

She pushes him, over and over, and he lets her. He deserves her anger.

Tell me you don't care, she intones.

Tell me I was just some casual dalliance...

She leaves, and it is spite and blame, and entirely his fault (he will never have her again).

He is alone.

-x-

The third time he leaves, it is solemn duty, but also relief.

He does not have the orb, and yet... (he is almost glad).

He must regroup.

You were right to be angry... I hope, in time, you will understand...

He leaves her before she can notice, and it is pain (he tells himself it isn't).

He is alone.

-x-

The final time Solas leaves, it is ruin and surrender.

He tells her everything he can allow himself to, tells her who he is and what he has done.

She offers to help him (no, no, no), but his heart clenches with dread even as it soars.

I cannot do that to you vhenan..

He loves her still.

And as she falls to her knees - out of time - he kneels with her, holding the hand with the anchor.

One last kiss, desperate, and he leaves her - slowly and more spent than he thought possible.

Var lath vir suledin..

He wishes it could.

Ayelet Lavellan was never supposed to be such a blow (but she is).

He is alone.

-x-

He misses the small things most of all, he realizes sometime after; the feel of Yel's curls as she lays her head in his lap, the smoothness of her skin as he traces it while he reads to her, the smile she gives him when she teasingly counts his freckles, the warmth of her body as she leans in close. The kisses that they can exchange for hours, worshipping her every surface.

It's maddening; enough so that he starts to slip into her dreams.

He cannot help but watch, enraptured, but every time she spies him he turns away.

He is alone.

...and yet...

she changes everything.

[dirthara-mama]

@drellvhen painted Yel for my birthday and I’ll never get over it T^T

[ghostwise]

@dirthara-mama‘s Ayelet Lavellan bc this post spoke to me lmao

[allisondraste]

👌 (Yel @ Niamh)

*sings*

Niamh and Yel

Solas smells

Bad joke ‘bout an egg

[musingmycelium]

a birthday gift for @dirthara-mama <3

Time is fleeting. Moments slip between Solas’ fingers like water from a spring and he’s never bothered to count them before. But that was before Ayelet taught him the worth of each moment as it passes. Before Solas realized the meaning held in heartbeats. 

Now he doesn’t count moments. 

Solas counts the callouses on her palms, the dips and whorls of her fingers. Counts the furrow between her brow when they argue and the dimple of her cheek when she laughs. Solas measures the warmth of the sun in Ayelet’s eyes and he counts each beat his heart skips at her smile. 

It wasn’t something he expected, nor something he wanted. But each moment spent with Ayelet is one Solas counts twice. 

Fluttering eyelashes against his cheeks when she kisses him, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. Solas’ heart flips in his chest and he knows from Ayelet’s smile against his lips she felt it under her fingertips. These are the moments Solas can’t bring himself to count.

Because they’re so much more than moments. Ayelet is the warmth of the summer sun on his skin and the rush of magic through his blood. She’s the blinding beauty of a world that wasn’t supposed to be. 

Solas counts the whisper of her touch across his shoulders, the gentle press of her hand on his arm. Counts the light catching in her curls and the strength in the breadth of her shoulders when she draws her bow in battle. Records how her fingers are splayed wide across her cheeks when she rests her head in her hands in his sketchbooks.

Loves her in moments. In the laughter she surprises out of him and in the reality she forces him to see. In the space between heartbeats when her fingers slip between his and she holds him in entirely in her hands. 

Time flows without him thinking about it. Moves around them in eddies taking them closer together before swirling them apart. Solas learns to count each moment without Ayelet slowly, clings to the current before it can sweep him away entirely. 

But Solas counts each reunion. Counts their first kiss and their second and third and tenth. Remembers laughter shared between lips and teeth against his smile and the taste of her name on his tongue. 

Ayelet is the one thing he gives meaning to now. She’s the reason to count each moment, to fall in love with each heartbeat. 

[buttsonthebeach]

Two Moons

I had the distinct pleasure of doing a short scene commission for @dirthara-mama and GOD do I love Ayelet and Solas together! Thank you for the commission, dear friend <3

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions (Slots currently open for March/April!)

Pairing: Ayelet Lavellan x Solas

Rating: Explicit. Smutty times ahead!

***************

The disagreement was a small one over whether or not Brother Genitivi had been entirely fair in his discussion of Pride demons in Fade and Spirits Mysterious, but it was starting to gather steam before Ayelet took Solas by the hand and dragged him away from his desk and towards his bedroom. It was gathering enough steam that he did not properly realize what she was doing until they were already there.

“Yel,” he said as she pushed open the door that led to his sparse quarters. “I am serious. Genitivi completely misinterpreted the primary sources in the chapter in question. Pride demons are not any more likely to congregate around Circles because of the practice of Harrowing young mages. It is Chantry propaganda meant to pin the sin of pride entirely on mages and prop up the idea that mages must be broken before they can be trusted.”

He was trying for stern but it didn’t seem to be working, because they had only been intimate twice now, but he already knew what was in store, and his body already wanted to betray him. His skin was prickling as she pulled him along. He could not help but draw close to her, orient his body to her. She was a moon and he was the tide and he was beginning to think he didn’t have a choice in that matter.

Yel closed the door behind him. She took his face in her hands.

“I’ve seen the primary sources. He went a little astray, but the stories of Pride demons possessing mages in Circles are well documented. I don’t think it’s because mages are prideful, of course. Now kiss me.”

Solas wanted to resist her. This was supposed to be purely physical, and it had been, and for the relationship to remain that way, he needed to be cautious. He needed to be in control. He didn’t like that just the sight of her, the smell of her, had his body buzzing, the skin of his sex already prickling, his core already swelling with heat.

He didn’t like how widely he’d smiled when she approached his desk that afternoon with Gentivi’s book in hand, how much he anticipated their talks, how much he wondered about her when she wasn’t there.

He fisted his hand in her hair and he pressed her back against the door to his room and he kissed her, and he pushed all of it aside. Everything that wasn’t Ayelet Lavellan and her smooth warm skin and her hungry sounds and the strength in her body and in her mind.

She responded at once, and for a split second Solas started to think he might have been wrong. Maybe she was the tide, she was the one pulled along by him - the way she curled into him, wrapped her legs around him, let him lift her up - but then she was against the door, sitting up high, like he was her mount to ride, and she was tipping his head back and kissing him for all she was worth, and he knew he was melting into it. He held the backs of her thighs, her ass. He bit back a whimper when she slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, slipped past it. When she rubbed herself against him, legs spread wide, he couldn’t stop the whimper anymore.

“Think we can stay like this?” she asked when they broke for air, gasping. “Can you hold me up?”

He had not had her like this yet. Up against a door, half-clothed, in the middle of the day. The thought thrilled him, filled up his cock with pressure and need. It throbbed against his leggings. He rooted himself in his stance, drew on just enough magic to strengthen himself, and reached between them to fiddle at the laces of her pants. He was grateful she wasn’t in armor or some fancy frock devised by Leliana and Vivienne and Josephine. He was grateful for many things he hadn’t expected to be grateful for when he first woke from uthenera. Like the earthy smell of her, the wetness and warmth he could smooth between his fingers when he slipped them past her smalls, her gasp, the sound of her head thudding backwards against the door.

“Okay?” Solas asked, his voice strained. His shaft ached, pulsed, longed for the tightness his fingers now danced against.

“Fine,” Yel said. “Better with you inside me.”

Solas buried his face against her neck and his fingers in her cunt and she was still new to him, he was still learning how deep to go, how fast, what rhythm she liked. But this was ancient, too. This connection. The way everything dropped away.

Focus.

“Yes -”

The sharp and sibilant sound of the word, the slap of her palm against the door, the way her cunt fluttered around his fingers as he found the right spot to press on, the slickness of her - he could focus on all of that. All of these ancient, animal things, and none of the thoughts that plagued him when he caught sight of her across a room, or felt her hand brush his as they studied a map together.

“Kiss me again,” Yel said, and Solas obliged.

He lost himself in that kiss, in the fumbling that came after. Yel rode against his hand and he could not quite hold her there long enough to make her come, and they were making too much noise against the door, and this was not only supposed to be purely physical but a secret to boot. So they stumbled away, shedding clothes, and she was naked in his room, and that was a first. Not that this room meant much to him. It was a temporary home in a temporary world, and she was a temporary lover - that was the point.

And yet -

“Come here,” Yel said, impatient, spread out on his bed, legs wide, the lips of her sex dark and inviting, so inviting his cock got harder still, flexing, releasing. He had to resist the urge to cup himself as he stood there, looking at her. Yel narrowed her eyes. Her black curls were arrayed against his linen sheets and he had never seen something so beautiful.

Focus.

“Come here, or I’ll start explaining why you’re wrong about your theory of how necromancy is an unfair binding of spirits,” she said.

Solas was on her, and it was moon and tide all over again, because he came down to meet her at the same time that she rose up, breasts soft and warm against his chest, legs wrapped tight around him, nails raking down his back.

“I am not wrong,” he groused, pretending he was not reeling at her nearness, at his need. “Am I the arcane advisor here, or are you?”

“I am your Inquisitor,” Yel said, nipping at his neck, his shoulder, and if she already bore his mark was it not fair for him to bear hers? (Focus.) “I say what is right and what is wrong, don’t I?”

They were rocking, rubbing together, and with a little readjustment Solas could press himself inside her, but he did not want to rush this. He did not want it to be over yet.

Yel had other plans, evidently, because she flipped him over and settled herself onto his cock with a long, breathy sigh.

“Fuck,” he said, unable to prevent the blasphemy of such coarse language, even though Yel above him, riding him, was all that was holy in this world. He could not help but blaspheme. Not when she was so warm, so tight, so eager in her movements.

“Yes,” she breathed out, raising her arms above her head. “Touch me.”

He could not resist. He ran his hands over her, held her by the hips, helped her find the rhythm and angle she needed.

“So good,” she groaned. “You feel so good, Creators -”

He wanted to tell her that they had no place in a moment like this. He wanted to flip her back over and fuck her harder than she was fucking him. He wanted to exist only in this moment forever.

Yel grew even more urgent, more frantic, and he read her trembling correctly, moved his right hand to the ripe bud of her clit and rubbed it quickly, up and down, side to side, and Solas watched as Yel’s mouth dropped open and she came, rippling and hot and wet around him. A sound escaped him at the feeling, strangled and startled like he’d been knifed. It was that intense, being there with her, feeling her pleasure from the inside out, watching her shake and moan. His left hand dug into her thigh as she rode it out. He was trying to hold himself back, trying to prove this one last time that he had control, that he was the master of this situation. That seeing her open and vulnerable and beautiful in her release meant nothing.

“Your turn,” Yel said, breathless. “What do you need?”

Solas did not trust himself to speak. He showed her instead. Turned her over onto her back and pushed her legs back, spreading her wide, and buried himself in her. It was her turn to make a sound that was nearly pained, to scrunch her eyes up tight.

“Too deep?” he asked, withdrawing.

“No,” Yel said. “Keep going.”

“As my Inquisitor commands,” Solas said, allowing himself a smile.

Yel bucked her hips up and ran her nails down his arms.

“You’re such an ass,” she said. “Why do I keep you around, again?”

Why indeed?

Solas pushed that thought aside as he moved within her, slow at first, and then faster, because he was already so close, because this moment could never last forever anyway. Nothing lasted in the world that he had broken. So he let himself get lost, let himself stop pretending he was the one in control, and he moved faster and faster, felt himself get harder and harder and harder until he was so hard he could not stand it, until his release burst out of him, each wave so powerful it made him curl his toes, made him gasp for air.

His climax made him drop down to his elbows, his whole body pressed against Yel. She welcomed him again. Wrapped her arms around him and pulled him the rest of the way. It was the closest she had ever held him. It was the closest anyone had held him since uthenera. He could hardly believe the luxury of feeling so much skin against his own. He buried his face against her neck, half expecting her to draw away. There had not been tenderness between them before. But to his surprise, one of Yel’s hands traced a path up his spine and to the back of his head, and she cradled him there, and let out a soft sigh, her breath fanning against his skin and making his skin prickle.

They stayed like that a while. Solas could feel his heart slowing, and he could feel the pulse of her own, and this was another moment he did not want to end. But Yel remembered herself, and cleared her throat, and he obligingly shifted away from her and let her rise.

“Sorry,” she said. “I should get cleaned up. I have to meet with Josephine and discuss travel arrangements to Halamshiral. Thank you, though. This was just what my afternoon needed.”

There was something unusually stiff in her manner. Solas cleared his own throat.

“I am glad I could oblige you, then. You are sure all is well between us? I would understand if you had - changed your mind about our arrangements.”

Yel looked down quickly, then gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Not at all. Although if you don’t admit that I was right about Genitivi’s interpretation - which, I have to stress again, is probably the first time he was ever right about anything - I will tell Josephine that I want you, Vivienne, and Dorian to all ride together to Halamshiral. We’ll draw lots as to who kills who first.”

Solas laughed, and just like that things were easy again. They were easy when Yel cleaned herself off and dressed and left, when he did the same. They were easy when he returned to his books, when he stood in the rotunda after everyone else had gone and studied the blank walls and wondered what fresco he would design to commemorate Halamshiral after they returned. They were easy when he reviewed his plan for making contact with several cells of agents sympathetic to his cause and larger plans.

But then that night he was lying there in his bed, remembering how it felt to be held by Ayelet Lavellan - how it felt to really hold her - and suddenly things were not easy at all.

[avaquet]

So, @dirthara-mama s Ayelet Lavellan needed a nice consoling hug, so I drew my Evelyn Lavellan giving her said hug! :D

[impossible-rat-babies]

👌 Yel's sending this right back to Darva because her crush knows no bounds

AHHH They Both Got Big Crushes All Around :D Honestly the thing would be getting Darva to be like.....“Okay we can be together and kiss each other? Yeah that is okay?”

[empresstress13]

First attempt at drawing @dirthara-mama ‘s amazing Ayelet Lavellan!

[dirthara-mama]

listen i'm not saying faceapp made my girls cuter, but if the shoe fits...

Myriani Surana and Ayelet Lavellan 💗

[impossible-rat-babies]

"nightfall" for the micro story prompts?

49. Nightfall

A follow up to this!

--

Darkness pressed around the tiny camp, nightfall quickly descending, leaving the edges of the skies around the thicket of trees a pale washed out purple in the dying light. Darva’s ears turned, listening intently for out of place sounds as he pulled the tack from behind the ears of their horses. He scratched under the chin of his horse and he blew air into his face, musing his already disastrous hair. He chuckled, scratching at her face, whispering sweet nothings.

A day of long riding had taken its toll, his hair not the only victim. Darva’s thighs and back were still numb and his feet ached terribly. They still had more riding ahead of them tomorrow and he was hardly looking forward to it; another leg in their long trip back from Wycome to Skyhold. Leliana had given them instructions to return, another mission on the horizon no doubt. The reprieve of the Summerday festival had been lovely, but so long as the Inquisition remained, work continued to follow.

Darva heaved a sigh all the way to his toes and he let the horses graze away, finding his way to the small fire, tents set across from each other

Even though the riding was hardly ideal, the company--in all her glory--certainly didn’t lack. Darva chuckled at the sigh of Ayelet sitting on a log, her chin lazily propped up on her hand, eyes closed. Her knees were knocked together, looking like a puppet who had her strings cut with her limbs all akimbo.

“I can hear you, Darva.” She mumbled with obvious drowsiness and Darva laughed, setting the tack aside.

“That is hardly the best place to sleep, Yel.” He pointed out and she blew a slew of messy curls from her face, green hazel eyes cracking open.

“The tent is too far.” She half whined and Darva clicked his tongue, rounding the campfire to sit, shoulder pressing against shoulder. “Also didn’t want to leave you alone when you still had to care for the horses.” She added, her head falling to rest against his shoulder.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me. I had the first watch anyway.” He told her gently, picking at the curls to push them out of her face.

“I still wanted to wait for you.” She replied and he smiled.

“I should talk to tired Yel more often. She is ridiculously cute.” Darva joked and she groaned loudly in protest, lifting her head to give him a judgmental look. Darva clicked his tongue and kissed her forehead, lips pressing to her tattoos. A simple gesture, a small token of affection. One of the many Darva had given her since their dance at the festival in Wycome. Whether it was a sign of something more, or nothing more than what it was remained to be seen, she treasured it nonetheless.

“I didn’t say you weren't always cute. Now sleep...it’s a pain to be the responsible one.” He told her, gently pushing her off. She groaned and clambered to her feet, taking her time to stretch her arms over her head.

“Someone has to be....” She grumbled, stepping over the log to retreat to her tent. He watched her crawl inside and soon he was left with only the chorus of insects all around and the crackling of the fire all around.

“Well then I’m glad we have each other.” He spoke fondly, turning back to the campfire, heart warm in his chest.

--

[micro story prompts]

[dirthara-mama]

There's a whole lot of heart in me

I feel it under my skin

- - -

@sunshinemage drew my Ayelet Lavellan and I can't describe how excited I am!

[dirthara-mama]

I'm driving two hours for an overnight work seminar, so send me asks to answer when I get there???

Send me a character + a number and I’ll tell you my headcanons for:

Their physical weak spots

Their emotional/moral weak spots

Scars or painful spots

Best places to kiss on their body

Guilty pleasures

Their vices (physical or emotional)

Their tickle spots

Bad memories/experiences

Humiliating memories

Fears/phobias

Bad or petty habits

Grudges and vendettas

What gets them flustered

Ingrained habits/forces of habit

What it takes to make them cry

Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

Regrets

Things they’ll never admit

People they’ve hurt or indirectly killed, and how it affected them

What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

Turning points in their life

People who’ve influenced them greatly

[leothelionsaysgrrrr]

Oc voice claims/accents

@heraldofwho tagged me!

Emma Sparrow - Noomi Rapace

Emma’s speech is a magnificent clusterfuck of influence from the people she grew up speaking to the most: her adoptive father Rémy Sparrow, who’s Orlesian (his voice and face claim is Rufus Sewell, but obviously with a French accent), her tutor and employer, Professor Callum Mayhew, who’s from Starkhaven, and her estranged mentor/biological father Isalas, who is Rivaini Dalish. She ends up sounding almost exactly like her voice claim, except it’s slightly heavier on the Scottish bit. People can usually pick out that she’s from Starkhaven if they listen to her for a while.

Lux - TJ Ramini

(Anthem spoilers btw!!!) Accent and mannerisms are actually...pretty much spot on, really. Except...obvious things that Lux would never do. <.<

Eren Lavellan - Devon Terrell

Eren has only a very slight accent, but it’s something of a rarity among Lavellan to have actually ever heard him speak. Those who have say it was the most beautiful way they’ve ever been told to piss off and stop touching someone’s stuff.

Tasalin Lavellan - Daniel Henney

His accent is only a bit thicker than Eren’s, but you’re definitely going to hear it more often, and he’s loads more charismatic with how he uses it. Even his dad jokes sound lovely.

Rexus Leventis - Simon Pegg

Fun fact: Rexus’s voice was Emma’s favorite thing about him, is my favorite thing about him, and probably the only reason she bothered spending any time around him at all.

Silver - Jude Law

Yeahh. All I hear when I try to think of Silver talking is Gigolo Joe, so...yep. Just like that, but with the tiniest hint of an accent like Atilia’s, since he grew up in the same general area she did. He does his best to sound like he’s never set foot outside of Minrathous, but it slips through sometimes.

Isalas Telahsalin - Taika Waititi

He’s from a reclusive clan in Rivain that’s devoted entirely to the twin gods, Falon’Din and Dirthamen, and they all have this kind of New Zealand accent.

Atilia Curio - Shohreh Aghdashloo

Rexus’s mother is an unholy combination of Chrisjen Avasarala and Olenna Tyrell, so this was kind of a no-brainer. She’s originally from Qarinus, so I headcanon her accent being like this, too.

Falani Lavellan - Ayelet Zurer

Falani still has some of her native accent - she’s originally from a clan in Nevarra, but she’s been with Lavellan since she was seventeen.

Aelon - Graham McTavish

...Listen, I just wanted a villain character with a god damned sexy voice, okay? What else was I supposed to do??? Erik Dellums??? Huh?????

;) I WILL TAG: @bladeverbena for totally not duplicitous reasons at all, @ourinquisitorialness, @saphyremelodies, @lavellanlove, @thereluctantinquisitor, @chaitea09, @lyriumsings, @sunshinemage, @fleshwerks, @idrelle-miocovani, and anyone else who wants to do it! No pressure if you don’t want to or don’t have any, as always. <3

[coldshrugs]

🤢 + Ayelet, just for a throwback

once again i say: she f*cked solas and that speaks for itself.

[impossible-rat-babies]

Writing Snippet #51

--

I asked @dirthara-mama earlier today about what Ayelet would think of Dimitri and then I got this itch to write and three hours later, here we are! Woooo!

--

Ayelet hummed a curse under her breath, pausing to tap her foot on the cobblestones of the ramparts above the Skyhold garden. Surely there were only so many places a mage like him could disappear to; he was hardly conspicuous with his long white hair and striking eyes, but the curious mage Dimitri Enallasani still managed to evade her attempts to find him.

A breath blew out of the corner of her lips and she looked back over the garden, scanning her eyes across the plants and people gathered below, eyes sweeping up and across to the rooms above. Her eyes glazed over the row of doors until one opening snatched her gaze back and she knew well the young man that walked out. 

Only around eight years old, she knew him as Daniel, one of the children who had come with Dimitri when he sought refuge for many children abandoned in the chaos of the rebellion, both magical and nonmagical. Many had been taken to other families and other mages to be cared for, but Daniel had remained firmly at Dimitri’s side. He was far from a shy child and had happily told her that Dimitri--his Papae--had been caring for him as long as he could remember. Just as before, he spotted her and he grinned, quickly running over to her.

“Lady Ayelet!” He greeted her happily and Yel couldn't help but smile at his energy. The young man’s enthusiasm was infectious, a sharp contrast from his father.

“Hello there Daniel. Where is your father?” She asked and he pointed back at the room he had come from.

“He is in our room, working. I was just off to get more herbs from Elan down in the garden, but I can show you back there if you would like.” He offered her, his smiling consisting of several missing baby teeth.

“Thank you Daniel, but I can manage my way. You should get your errand done.” She ushered him off with a warm smile and he grinned brightly, quickly turning for the stairs. With a short walk and a knock on the door, Yel waited patiently, wiggling her fingers behind her back.

A moment later the door opened and a familiar, but a still scarred and jarring face appeared in the doorway. “Inquisitor Lavellan.” Dimitri greeted smoothly in his accented voice, stepping aside to allow her inside. She gave a small nod and stepped into the warm room. 

The sharp smell of jasmine with undertones of sandalwood and brewing alchemical potions hit her, tickling the inside of her nose. The room was rather warm for the castle, even with the nearby window half ajar to allow the constant breeze in. The roaring fireplace was to blame for the strong heat and undoubtably magic spilling about. There was no shortage of it, not with the various wisps floating about in the ceiling like they were dancing with each other. They casted their own glow across the stones and the floor covered in worn and warm carpets undoubtably dragged here by Dimitri and Daniel themselves.

“You have certainly made a home for yourself here.” She remarked, her gaze taking in all the other assortments of items about the room. The bed was filled with mismatched blankets and pillows, a well worn rabbit toy and small blanket hiding amongst the colorful menagerie. A borrowed table had been filled with enough alchemical items to rival an apothecary and a window ledge full of plants in various containers. Ingredients if her knowledge didn’t deceive her; she knew of a few of the herbs, but others were foreign still.

“I have been exchanging some alchemical services to your spymaster as compensation for both Daniel and I remaining within your Keep. These items are necessary ones to facilitate the construction of various poisons and elixirs. Reagents if you will.” He explained carefully and slowly as she approached, nodding at the complex system. She recognized parts of the set up as distilleries and jars to heat over plain or magical heat.

“An apostate and an alchemist?” She asked and he hummed, a smile spreading on his lips, but not to his eyes. He stood straight, arms tucked behind his back, posture evident on someone on their guard. He had stood like that at every meeting they had since his arrival.

“Yes. A skill that has proved rather useful over the years.” He answered and she nodded several times.

“Where did you learn?” She questioned him.

“Any reason for the line of questioning, da’len?” He asked her, the formalness of his speech clashing with his words--catching her off guard. A trait she had seen more than once in him, but one she hadn’t quite gotten used to. She looked up at him, a brow arching above his cloudy blinded eye.

“Nothing more than getting to know you better, Dimitri. You are a stranger in my Keep. We could call you a ghost with how hard you are to find.” She answered honestly him and he gave a sharp nod.

“Would like to know who is making dangerous reagents within your fortress for your spymaster to use on targets?” He asked and she cocked a curious brow. A smile turned his scarred lips, exposing his pointed teeth. 

“A jest. These are experiments for now.” He explained. “Anything deemed usable will go through your approval. If you wish some for yourself, I would not blame you.”

“Possibly.” She replied. “You still evaded my response. I would like to get to know you better.” She gave him a smile to put him at ease, but it was if it hit a brick wall.

“What would you like to know?” He responded rather simply, leaving everything open and to her as he had always managed to do.

Yel looked back at the alchemical potions bubbling, eyes following the glass reflecting the afternoon sun. “Where did you learn your alchemy?” She inquired and he hummed.

“My father. He was our apothecary in my clan. He turned much of the poisonous and venomous wildlife in the Anderfels to useable elixirs and poisons.” He answered honestly and she nodded, looking back at the plants.

“Are these your own? I don’t recognize some of these.” She spoke and he stepped closer to her.

“Yes, some of these are. Seeds from back home, either imported or from my own collections. Many have taken to the clean mountain air and the chill well. I have been surprised.” He explained and continued along the various plants, telling her of each of them as she asked. The questions soon faded to conversation, the pair talking back and forth with unexpected ease. Despite his closed off nature, each answer lended itself to her learning more about him. 

The whole of Dimitri was rather unusual in his way. He stood close to her, but not as close for her to touch him. He kept his hands to himself, still as he explained and purposeful when he pointed. His whole manner struck of a man caught in a situation he was not versed in, but still tried to make sense of. He was trying to sink into everything--remain anonymous--but he was painfully aware of his inability to do as such. It took only a look to see how different he was--how life had marked him out for everyone to take notice.

It reminded Ayelet of herself in its way. The amount of shemlen about was staggering, the isolation in a tucked away corner, the way Dimitri’s eyes looked about trying to find the fastest way to escape should it be required. The way life had both given them a spotlight and a way to stand out, especially in ways they would rather have not. They both bore the same discomfort the Inquisition had given them, but Ayelet couldn’t so easily discard her attachment as Dimitri could. It raised the inevitable question in her mind and she bit her lip as he finished speaking.

“Why are you staying?” She asked, the question not unprovoked with the feeling in the air. “You brought us those who you were taking care of and you could have left. You brought them to Skyhold, not to one of our outposts. You could have easily left, but you remain with Daniel. Why?” She questioned and it stuck to Dimitri, giving him pause for a long moment. His mismatched eyes searched the floor below him, twitching arms betraying his fidgeting hands.

“Safety.” He answered rather simply, looking at her. “It is a selfish thing, but the Inquisition is the safest place to be in these times. Apostates are hated and...Maleficarum twice as much. Nowadays the distinction matters little, but it mattered before the Circles were turned to their present state. I do not use this organization as a shield for myself, but...” He paused in his speech as if saying that much had exhausted him. “For Daniel’s sake, he deserves some peace.” He finished clearly with the conclusion clear. He had been an apostate alone for many years--naturally with the ways in which she had see templars conduct themselves, it was only a matter of time before he was labeled a Maleficarum. Whether he deserved it mattered little once the label was already stuck to him.

“You didn't need to confess to me, Dimitri.” She spoke and he spared a weak chuckle, shaking his head and tapping his toes.

“I would rather share such things myself, lest you hear of them secondhand. Many rumors are not kind.” He mused, lips pursing. “As you can imagine from those spread about yourself. Courtly intrigue and the Chantry have hardly been kind to the Inquisition, much less yourself, da’len.” He spoke and she made a disgusted sound in agreement, one that made Dimitri crack a smile and a small laugh. The sound warmed her chest, a crack forming in his hard exterior. A crack was all it took.

“Still,” Ayelet spoke as she regained her composure, straightening herself up a bit, “thank you for telling me, Dimitri. I appreciate your candor.” She smiled and he returned it, it almost shining his own eyes.

Almost.

“You’re welcome, da’len.” His smile faded back to his impassive face. They heard the creak of the door and both of them turned, Daniel grinning as he walked in.

“I got the herbs, Papae! Hello Lady Yel!” He said and Dimitri shook his head and smiled as his son approached, handing the herbs off to him.

“Ma serannas, ma da’len.” He leaned down to kiss the top of his head, smoothing his hair. Yel smiled at the two of them, but cleared her throat.

“I will be seeing you two later?” She asked and they both turned to her, Daniel eagerly nodding.

“Of course!” He grinned brightly and Dimitri nodded, wrapping his arms around Daniel.

“Of course, Lady Lavellan.” He smiled like he meant it and Yel smiled back.