#she will actively argue and try to get Solas to break through his rose colored glasses of Mythal. he already knows her faults

[fenharel-babe]

Bloom (my Lavellan that is a lavellan but also not. Long story) is literally SO pissed. In her mind she says “IT’S ON SIGHT IF I SEE YOU AGAIN, MYTHAL.” For once, she wishes she had the power Solas does so she could actually stand a chance in defeating Mythal 1v1. But she also knows Solas probably wouldn’t want that, so she won’t.

But she will roast that woman and argue SO fucking hard. She does not stand for abusers since she herself AND her twin brother were abused in the past (super long story) and she cannot stand it. Especially when it’s someone she loves.

She didn’t say it in the ending of DATV, but everyone could see the anger and disgust on her face when she saw Solas’s shoulders hunched over and how he almost handed her the dagger. It’s on sight if she sees Mythal again.

Also, Rook tells her how Mythal claimed she was a mother and Bloom is like “I NEVER want to hear her say that again.” Bloom is an adoptive mom of a human and ALSO twins with Solas (before DATV--again long story about her kids) and she could never imagine doing all the shit Mythal did. It disgusts her so deeply that she says that. She literally would start a very bad verbal argument with Mythal and not hold back her roasts. Solas is gonna have to hold her back LMAO.

Oh GOD he didn’t want to become this, he didn’t WANT TO!! He was terrified!! Ohhhhh MYTHAL. I hate her. Ohhh I hate her I hate her.

[wootensmith]

Shedding

“Bloody whine is driving me up the wall,” growled Blackwall, shattering several crystals with the flat of his blade. “It’s like the dreams after the Joining,” agreed Brosca. “Except worse. It’s Stone song gone sour.” “The King sent us to aid Kal-Sharok last year in pushing back the Qunari,” said one of the Legion dwarves, shoving his shield against the red walls and crushing the smaller crystals. “They’d found the infection in one of their roads. Studied it. It shouldn’t sing, they told me. The Stone was dead in Kal-Sharok, it’d been dead for centuries. Even the lyrium couldn’t be heard. Not the way we hear it, anyway.” He grunted, slammed his shield into a large growth. “But it sang, just the same. They were excited. Thought it meant their Stone would be reborn. They were trying to grow more of it when we left. Half-wonder if that’s where the topsiders got the idea.” “Unlikely,” said Solas, wincing as a shard cut his heel. It mattered little. “The magisters drew it first from here and have been attempting to use it since the first Blight. It is worrisome that Kal-Sharok is encouraging its spread. But—” he sighed, “It is too late for us to intervene now. We must hope that our friends will discover it before our work is undone.”

“Maybe they’ll cure it,” said the Inquisitor. “Maybe it really will bring back their Titan. And they’ll use what you found to heal the red lyrium.” On any other day, he might have argued with her. He might have doubted and pointed out the likelihood that the dwarves of Kal-Sharok would only infect themselves in addition to the corpse of their Titan. But so close to the end, he could not begrudge her optimism. He couldn’t bring himself to think realistically. Or at least— he couldn’t bring himself to speak it aloud. “Perhaps you’re right, Vhenan,” he said instead, kissing her hand. The air was damp and chilled, but buzzed with the lyrium. It made Solas’s skin prickle uncomfortably. The footings of the temple and the evidence of elven masons had long since dwindled away, leaving only the large empty tunnels. There had likely been no living presence here since Corypheus had brought the lyrium back. Darkspawn, certainly. Long slashes from claws interspersed the crystals that jutted from the walls, and the stench of old decay still lingered. But they saw none. Not until they’d descended to the massive cliff that ran along the edge of a ruby desert plain below. “This is it,” said the Inquisitor as the dragon was wheeled to a stop and the large company stood peering over the edge. The song of the lyrium was overwhelming here, the glow like the living fire of an active volcano below them and shadows writhed like moving clouds over the surface of the plain. Cole moved quickly, slipping a journal from the Inquisitor’s pack and spreading it before them. “Thank you, Cole,” she said with a sad smile, and held a corner of her map with her remaining hand. “There is a road down to the plain— here. But Andruil’s remaining records seem to hint at that peak—” she raised her hand, pointing to a distant hill. It pulsed and glowed. “That is Anaris’s stronghold. That is the source of the Blight, if there ever was one. The darkspawn must be thick across this entire area.” Blackwall whistled low. “There are— thousands.” “Those are just the ones we can see,” said Brosca. “Aye,” said one of the dwarves. “You could fit the whole of Orzammar down there— but it’s the tunnels where they’ll group tightest. We’re seeing only the tip of the lode. There’s no way we can defeat them. It’s madness. Even in our heyday the Legion would never be able to take on so many. Nor the Wardens. It’s slaughter.” “That isn’t our task,” said a woman beside him. “Our task is to get the Inquisitor to that peak. The archdemon draws the darkspawn and we cut a path through the remainder to get her there.” “We’ll be dead before we get halfway, Sigrun.” “We’re the Legion,” she said. “Already dead anyway. This is what we swore to do. If this is where we return to the Stone— well, our Thaigs were all one once, weren’t they? All things flow back to the dust.” Brosca laughed. “Ever the optimist,” she said. “You aren’t allowed to die without me. Not until the mountain.” She called back to a small cluster of Wardens. “Bring the beast. It’s time.” She glanced at the Inquisitor who was staring intently at the map. Solas watched a drop of water splash onto the rough page, slithering through the ink. “Do you— want to do this privately?” Brosca asked. “Please,” answered Solas. “It will make the spell— easier to complete.” The Warden nodded. The dragon was brought to a halt a the edge of the cliff. Blackwall handed the Inquisitor a knife. “For the ropes, when you’re ready. They’re enchanted. Solas— won’t be able to break them without your help.” He gave Cole a wooden bowl and a large vial. “For the— the Blight. So he can draw them.”  Cole took it with a frown but did not protest. He turned to Solas and clasped his arm. “I’ll get her there,” he said. “I swear it.” “I know you will, Warden,” said Solas. “Thank you.” “Maker— or— something watch over you.” “An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. Within My creation, none are alone.” Blackwall nodded. “You’d think, knowing what I do, that it wouldn’t help, hearing that. But it does.” He let Solas’s arm go and followed the other Wardens and the Legion down the long road toward the valley.

It left only Cole and the Inquisitor standing before the massive beast. “I wish to stay,” said Cole. “She will not be able to hear you without me. She’ll be alone—” The Inquisitor shook with a low sob. “Of course, Cole. I am glad you are here for this,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. She could not look at him. “It is only changing a mask, Vhenan,” he whispered, “I will still be me. And I will ever love you. A little longer, and then all the masks will be gone. All the pain and fear and sorrow behind us.” She reached for his face. “I worry about what it will leave in its wake,” she said, her fingers resting on his cheek. “Only love. Only peace.” He pressed her into him, trying to imprint the shape of her into his memory. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” “Say it again, once more,” she said, her voice wavering beside his ear. He pulled back to look at her. “I love you. Long after this body. Long after this world. Until even the Fade releases your memory and crumbles away.” He brushed the tears from her face and kissed her, pulling one last time from the anchor, buying her as many breaths as he could. “Whatever happens— even should we fail, my happiest days have been with you, Solas, just as you are,” she said. “If I had it in my power to return that joy to you—” “You do,” he insisted. “You have.” “Ar lath ma,” she said. He leaned into her, closed his eyes and reached out for the beast’s mind. Delaying would only draw out their misery. There was resistance, the beast did not want him. It threatened him with images of violence and flame. He tried to reassure it, redoubling the spell, sending it thoughts. Of protection. Of battling darkspawn. Of shielding its clutch of eggs. The beast subsided at last. Solas felt a yank and then—

Heavy. He was so heavy. Things bit at him and massive muscles ached and strained against the biting bonds. The Inquisitor’s voice cried out in anguish and he twisted his head, marveling at the strange colors the beast saw. She was crackling with light, gold and green, struggling to hold on to his sagging body. It was disorienting, seeing his own empty flesh. More disturbing even than seeing himself in the veilfire memories or in the paintings they made of his stories. It might have distressed him, had her grief not crushed him. He strained against the ropes, craning to reach her. She had not looked up at him. He called out and it erupted in a hissing roar. Felasil, he told himself, you have a dragon’s tongue now. Cole helped her place his body on the dirt. She brushed his dead face, still ignoring the dragon. “He’s safe,” said Cole softly. “Just somewhere else is all.” She nodded and looked up at last, but did not release her hold on the corpse. I should destroy it. Release her from her protection of it.  He twisted his head slowly toward Cole. The boy nodded. “He wants you to let go, Inquisitor. Put his body down.” “But I can’t— just leave him here. Something will hurt him. Or—” she shuddered. “Consume him.” “It isn’t him,” said Cole. “Just like me. I’m not— Cole. Just inside him. But I’m me still. Solas is there.” He pointed toward the dragon. Solas lay down and the ropes slackened slightly. “He wants you to step away. He’ll get rid of it so you don’t have to see.” She shook her head. “No, Cole. He’ll need it, when this is done.” No, Vhenan. No, I’ll never need it again. “He isn’t coming back. He doesn’t want to.” She stared down at his corpse. Solas thought they were at an impasse. She would not leave it and he could not do this without her. It was not a weakness he had anticipated. What would she tell me if I were in her shoes? He wondered. What story, what truth, what lie would she use to make me release her? He growled in frustration. She didn’t look up. Vir sulevanin, he thought. A life for a life. Tell her, Cole. Tell her ‘vir sulevanin’. I release what is most precious. It is her turn. “I don’t think she’ll—” started Cole. Tell her. “He says, ‘Vir sulevanin’. He has done a great service in your name. You cannot refuse him. This is the payment. You must let him go. You must go on so that he can, too.” She sobbed, but her hands slid away from his body and she rose, stepping away. Cole reached down and took the jawbone pendant. “You can’t— he loved it,” protested the Inquisitor. “He does,” said Cole. “He wants it with him. Not this part—” he untied the jawbone, discarding it. “Only you. Only the memory of you.” Cole approached him, tying the leather band around one scaled forearm. The veilfire glimmered. Cole stepped back and grasped the wooden bowl, holding it up to Solas’s snout. “I’m sorry, my friend. It is the only way they will hear you sing.” Tel’abelas, Cole. It is a poison I have long accepted. He lapped the spoiled blood. It tasted rotten and stung. The beast’s mind recoiled and lashed out, attempting to struggle. Solas soothed it as well as he could, tightening his control over it. It is necessary to protect your nest, he told it. The sting spread, branching through his neck, arcing through his wings and  the dense body. The taint was swift. Solas knew he would not be able to hold his sanity long. A few days perhaps. He hoped it would be enough. “You should release him,” said Cole. “The time for you both is shorter and shorter.” The Inquisitor took a few steps toward him. He lowered his head toward her and she reached to touch his nose. “Are you in there?” she asked. He nuzzled against her. “Yes,” she answered herself. “I can feel you now, without the Veil.” She stroked his face. “I’ll let you go now. I love you. Don’t forget how I love you, even if the Blight takes everything else.” He felt the binds wriggle as she sawed them and then snap free. He stretched tentatively, feeling the odd expansive unfolding of his wings. She stepped back. Cole pulled her farther away. “It’s time to go now,” he said. “You don’t need to see.” She looked back at him as Cole led her down the road but didn’t struggle. Solas waited until she was out of sight and then took a deep breath and opened his throat. His body ignited and blackened in moments.  He turned away and leaped from the ledge, spreading his wings. He swooped low over the plain before the wind caught and he soared again. The red lyrium’s song was loud and hypnotic. He joined its melody watching as a group of Hurlocks turned as he swung over them. He circled in large arcs as the song poured forth from him and slowly made his way toward the red mountain.