As he blinked open his eyes, the ashes falling around Solas realized themselves as small specks of dust settling in the beam of light peeking through the cracks in the walls around him. He was sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor, his back slightly bend forward as his head hung low past his shoulders. He tilted his head toward the now-rising sun just visible past a gaping hole on the other side of the room, and examined the disappointingly plain building. He was in a partially-collapsed tower in the outskirts of the Tevinter Imperium, and had been dreaming in the Fade, reliving one of the oldest and most prolific battles in history - the First Qunari War. The lands raging with fire and bloodshed, great horned giants reaving every man in their path, and magisters brazing enemies alive. What was so devastating now simply sat in rubble and dust.
This is what Solas loved the most about sleeping in these war-torn buildings, it was if he lived the battles. There was a fire inside of him now, an insatiable desire to gorge himself in fight and revelry. He was still young, barely past his twenty-third name day, and the world was still filled with so much opportunity. He had been travelling for a few years, having left home soon after discovering the true capacity of his abilities. The elvhen bent forward and placed his slender palms on the stone floor, pushing up onto his feet and stretching his back almost as a dog would. He stood erect and took in a deep breath, admiring how he could still feel the tingle of the veil, as if he simply reached out, he could grab an ancient Qunari by its horns and be a part of the battle again… but he restrained himself. Solas knew that too much of a good thing was a very real danger. He scaled a crumbling wall and hopped out onto the desolate, rocky plains of the Imperial reach. Deftly, he flipped the staff he was carrying head-first into the sling on his back. Solas felt like running.
He had so much pent up energy from his visit to the Fade, he wanted to be in the action somewhere…. anywhere. Whether it was in an old tavern with drunken Tevinter soldiers or hunting with a nomadic Dalish clan, he wanted to be stimulated. It wasn't that the fade left him without stimulation, it was just… different. The Fade was where he learned, the waking world where he put his knowledge to use. He made friends with spirits, but you could not touch a spirit with your hands… or with anything else, for that matter. Solas bounced on his heels a few times, rocked forward onto his toes, and took a few bounding leaps before speeding across the ground with animalistic agility. He smiled at the adrenaline rush, hopping from rock to earth without a second look. He had been running at a steady pace for at least an hour as he began passing a tall, jagged rock face, and suddenly he found himself falling quickly and violently toward the ground. He barely knew what hit him - literally - it had happened so fast. He turned and landed on his chest, his skull narrowly missing a sharp rock, the wind knocked out of him. Solas gasped for air and tried to push himself back up, but a pair of scrambling hands grabbed him by his dirtied shirt sleeves and dragged him quickly backwards before he had a second to think.
"Shitshit shhhhit shhh sorry shhhh shit," the stranger whispered hurriedly, "shut up for a second?"
Solas didn't say a word, but his tackler still felt it necessary to put a gold-and-dirt clad hand over the elves' mouth, their other hand still tightly gripping his sleeve along with a very large and lumpy satchel. Before Solas could even mumble his dissatisfaction, three hulking Imperial soldiers came bounding around the cliff, weapons drawn. They looked around the area, but whoever was crouched behind Solas, holding onto him even more tightly than before, had pulled them both into the most perfectly secluded corner just beyond the entrance of a cave built into the facade. Solas was so tense, he could feel nothing but the stranger's short and frantic outward breaths on the back of his neck. After what seemed an eternity, and plenty of yelling between the three soldiers, they finally pursued the opposite direction. Solas and his attacker sat in silence for a few minutes until the person behind him finally dropped both hands, sighing deeply.
"Thank Andraste, that was a close one, ay?"
Solas simultaneously backed away and stood up to face the potentially hostile stranger, who stood up with him.
"Don't worry, Pointy. I won't push you down again. Might bite you though,"
Solas wasn't sure how to react to the strange creature before him. She looked close to his age, was tall and slender, but graced with voluptuous curves. Her hair was dirty though, and upon inspection, so was the rest of her. The bag still in her grasp jingled as she turned, as did the metallic charms tied onto her braids and clothing. Her skin was bronzed and scarred, but very smooth, particularly on the astonishing amount of thigh peeking out from under a very expensive-looking sash.
"Eyes up here, mate. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"
Solas cleared his throat and looked up at her bright golden eyes. "Only the ones that mattered," he folded his hands behind his back and straightened his posture. "Did yours never teach you? Or is barbaric tackling your way of saying 'hello'?"
"Funny and handsome. Not bad for a human shield. Well, Elven shield I guess. Care to… explore this cave with me for awhile?" The young woman brushed a loose hair behind her jeweled ear, leaned against the wall and popped her hip out, smirking all the while.
"But Da'len, we barely know each other," Solas retorted boldly.
"What the fuck did you just call me? Ah, nevermind, we can get to that later. Best we get out of here anyway before those sword-happy guards come back," she headed toward the cave entrance, calling back, "Well come on, then. I know where I'm going more than you do,"
Solas didn't argue and followed her back out into the plains, almost happy to have avoided an encounter in the cave… it was horrendously dirty and smelled of nug, and although beautiful, the woman did, too. He was entranced by the way she walked so confidently. Her hips swayed with every step, and her feet gingerly stepped over every crack, despite wearing huge, very worn boots. He soon found himself waiting for the times that she stopped abruptly to look at her surroundings, as every time she did, her skirt would flip up briefly and give him a tasteful glimpse underneath. As he started to feel almost ashamed of his wandering thoughts about the woman, she began to slow her stride and turned towards him.
"Don't think we made introductions, did we?"
Solas licked his lips and tilted his head to look at her properly. "No, I don't believe we have,"
The woman stretched out her gilded hand in his direction.
"Well that's rude, isn't it? I'm Isabella. And you?"