#not everyone and their bird trying to tell solas to stop being weird about enaste lmao

[shift-shaping]

yet you love her all the same

solas meets an old friend in the fade.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan (discussed|)

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A spirit could take many forms. On this night, for whatever reason, Wisdom stood beside the water as a large grey heron. Solas watched it quietly, curiously, as it stared into its reflection and tilted its long, sharp head to the side.

"My friend," it greeted him in soft elven as he approached. Its eyes glowed, a mist of hazy blue magic drifting off them. When it spoke, it did so directly into his mind, without moving its beak.

"Hello," Solas replied warmly. The spirit stretched its wings, and he smiled at it. "You have not worn this shape in some time."

"It is comfortable, for now. You should try it."

"I should," he agreed, though it did not truly appeal to him. "Did something specific bring this on?"

The spirit made a chattering noise and retracted its neck before stretching again. "I wish to see what lies beneath the water's surface."

Solas smirked. "By... eating what lives there?" Wisdom hummed. "Why not take the form of a fish, then?"

Though it wore no true expression, somehow Wisdom looked upon him warmly. "How could we talk if I were a fish?"

"The same way we can when you are a bird.”

Wisdom looked back at the water, and drew its beak close to the surface. It was quiet for a time, and Solas gave it room to think. Finally it shook its head, feathers dancing on its crown. "No. I would swallow water and that would be unpleasant." It straightened again and turned to face him fully. "You have traveled so far, lethallin. Why venture to the northern plains?"

"The Inquisitor requested I accompany her on an urgent mission to Wycome. She received word from her clan's Keeper that her family is in danger."

Wisdom blinked at him, and the glow of its eyes was so strong it shown though its eyelids. "What manner of danger?"

"Strange mercenaries target her people." He frowned. "There are whispers of a purge." That a slaughtering of elves was so common there was a specific term for it made his stomach churn.

"A purge," Wisdom repeated. The word echoed around them. "What an ugly word." He looked away from the spirit, but it stretched its neck to look him in the eye. The gesture was so odd he couldn't help but smirk. "Not all suffering is your fault, lethallin. Leave some guilt for the rest of the world."

He exhaled and nodded. Though its words were ultimately false, he appreciated Wisdom's efforts to calm the inevitable downward spiral of his thoughts.

"And you have gone to help. Let that be something."

"I suppose it must be," he replied, but he knew that wasn't enough. Regardless of his friend's words, he knew every hurt in Enaste's life was, in truth, his fault. And not just her: that Sera was apart from her true self, that the Dalish of the Dirthavaren were so impoverished, even that the rebel mages were so damned that an offer of servitude to a Tevinter Magister was preferable to their current state --it was all the result of his actions, his mistakes.

"You must stop this," Wisdom urged. "You accomplish nothing with such thoughts." It nudged at him, jabbing his side with its beak.

"Please stop," he said, gently pushing it away. "Your face is too sharp for that."

"You are not good company like this," Wisdom asserted. It leaned back and flapped its wings. "Cease this misery, or I will find another wayward soul to pester!"

He couldn't help laughing at that. "Really? Who else will listen to your ramblings on Alamarri textiles?"

"An Alamarri craftsman!"

"And how many of those will meet with you?"

Wisdom grumbled and shrank back down, ruffling its feathers momentarily before relaxing. "They are not ramblings. My information is well-organized and presented."

"Of course it is," he replied. Wisdom looked at him sideways, glowing eyes narrowed. "I am sorry, my friend. I do not mean to be poor company."

"You are not. Usually." It straightened, and began to stare into the water again. They were both quiet for a long time, the silence settling from vaguely tense to something warmer, more familiar. That feeling of shifting silence, of nerves settling and relaxing, was something he always missed dearly when in the waking world. Outside the Fade, a stale conversation remained such when it paused. Emotions were more fluid here, and easier to detect as the boundaries from one being to another blurred at the edges.

Wisdom waded into the water, sending ripples flooding outward until they reflected back against the opposite shore. Solas sat in the grass at the water's edge and tried to do as his friend suggested. The spirit was right: this was no place to dwell on shame.

Eventually it spoke again, looking towards him from the water. "Tell me more about the Inquisitor."

“What would you like to know?" It was natural that Wisdom would be curious about Enaste given her sudden impact on the world. He had told it some things already, though, and was uncertain what more there was that Wisdom could not learn on its own.

"A great deal! You have told me facts about her history, her decisions, her allies, but there must be more besides her politics. You think about her so often, more than any mortal I can recall."

"It is not that often," he replied, defensive suddenly.

Somehow Wisdom managed to look at him witheringly. "Lethallin, please." 

"She is the leader of the Inquisition and the bearer of the Anchor," he replied, knowing full-well his friend already knew that. "Of course she is on my mind, occasionally."

"Occasionally!" It scoffed. "You embraced her." He averted his gaze and tried not to let the guilt overtake him again. Wisdom cocked its head, genuinely curious. "Why? If you only think of her because of her position, why are your thoughts as often on her lips as her words?"

"There are --it may be difficult for a spirit to understand," he deflected.

It bristled, feathers fluffing so it looked much larger than it was. "Do not insult me."He raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a reaction. "I am Wisdom! Of course I can understand desires of the flesh!'

He snorted, and it deflated quickly when it knew he wasn't intimidated. "How very prideful of you, lethallen." It looked annoyed. He shook his head and sighed. "But still, I apologize. That was unkind of me."

"You are forgiven." It waded out a bit further, watching the water. Occasionally a fish swam by, glittering and quick. Wisdom watched it, rather un-heron-like in its movement. "I only want to understand why she so occupies your mind."

Despite his efforts to avoid a conversation like this as much as possible, Wisdom inevitably drew it out of him. It was to be expected, he supposed --Wisdom was privy to much of his thoughts, and he could no longer pretend Enaste did not take up a significant portion of them. "She is..." But despite how much he thought of her, he found the words impossible to articulate. She was capable, and strong-willed, and confident in her own leadership. She valued knowledge, and expertise, and took advice from those she respected. Perhaps above all she was open-minded and curious, always asking him questions and listening thoughtfully to the answers.

She was also charming, and beautiful, with raven hair and hazel eyes that were warm and deep and wide. She laughed rarely, but more often around him, and the sound was honest and lovely and made his heart race. She was playful when she wanted to be, open in her desires yet embarrassed of them at the same time. Her lips were soft and full, her body pliant yet firm in his hands, her skin--

"Oh," Wisdom said suddenly, and he looked up from the thoughts he hadn't realized had consumed him. "You are in love with her!"

"No," he said, too quickly.

"How fascinating!"

He exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut, centered himself, forcing his mind back to the conversation at hand. "She is not what I expected from this world. I am simply --surprised."

"Why? Is it so hard to think there could be something worth loving in the ruins?" Wisdom waded closer to him, head tilted curiously, the water lapping softly at its feet. "A flower that grows where corpses lie is no less lovely for its surroundings." It paused. When it spoke again, its voice was gentler still. "Perhaps... it is even more so."

"It is a selfish thought to even entertain. I have already hurt her," he said. "I cannot twist the knife by betraying her so personally."

"Yet you love her all the same."

"It is foolish. And ultimately, irrelevant."

Wisdom watched him pensively, and said nothing for a time. When it spoke again, the words sank in his chest like stones in the pond. "What does she want of you?"

"That... Is irrelevant as well. She would not want anything of me if she knew the entire truth." His voice fell, and he shook his head. "And she does not, and cannot. So we must remain as we are."

"You have no idea what she would want, my friend." Even in its prodding Wisdom was so gentle, so kind; he could almost believe it was right. "Perhaps she might even wish to walk beside you on your path."

He chuckled mirthlessly, unsettled by the thought of dragging her down with him. "That thought is far from comforting."

"Or maybe she is proof that you belong where you are. That this world, however broken, is the one you must accept."

He looked up at it seriously, frowning. "You cannot believe that," he breathed.

"I am Wisdom.” A teasing melody laced its voice. He could now say he’d seen a heron smirk. “I do not believe anything. I only want to know the possibilities."

"Then you know why acceptance is defeat."

"Is it? Or are you too proud to know the difference?"

"Clever," he said bluntly, and stood. "I can feel our time grow short, my friend."

Wisdom waded to the shore, leaving water dripping to the grass. "You are afraid."

"Of what?" He asked as Wisdom drew close. The spirit seemed slightly taller now, or perhaps it stretched its neck up higher. It looked directly into his eyes, in a manner it could tell unsettled him.

"Of her. Of what she could do to you if you let her." He sighed and looked away. "Yet you linger by her side."

He shook his head. "She needs my help."

"You could let her die."

"No, I could not."

"Why?" It asked, tilting its long narrow head to the side. "She will die regardless, in time. Then the mark is yours."

"Someone must stop Corypheus."

"Then kill her and take the Anchor yourself."

Solas balked, blinking at the spirit. "You-- are you seriously suggesting I murder Enaste?" He was genuinely taken aback, uncertain he'd ever heard it suggest something so merciless.

Its eyes glowed brighter. "You cannot murder a ghost, lethallin! Would it not be better, kinder, to sever one thread so the rest can be free?"

"I--" he exhaled and closed his eyes tightly. Wisdom fell quiet, waiting. "I am not entertaining this. I know what you're trying to do, and it isn't helping."

The spirit pulled back, tittering an odd little laugh. "Yes, it is."

Solas rolled his eyes. "We can continue this discussion another time." He sighed. "Or not, preferably."

Wisdom huffed a laugh. "Fine, then. But when you find yourself again in her arms, I will be here to say I told you so."

"You are obnoxious." He scoffed. "This form has made you meddlesome and tiring."

"I will not turn into a tree again. That was a very boring two hundred years."

He smiled at Wisdom, amused despite himself. "On that much we can agree. This realm was lonely indeed without your chattering."

It flapped its wings again. "Then perhaps I will remain this shape a while longer. I enjoy this form."

"So long as you are comfortable, my friend. And..." He hesitated, then gave the spirit a deep nod. "Thank you. In spite of my protests, I appreciate your counsel."

"Of course, Solas." Sometimes Wisdom called him that to tease him, to poke fun at his nature or call him arrogant, but now, like this, it was simply his name. And hearing it, in Wisdom's echoing, ancient voice, was enough to soothe his nerves and slow his racing thoughts. Here, even among such an ancient force, there was great comfort in knowing he remained himself.

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