The Weird Shit Elves Do: Undercroft Craft
Lavellan always enjoys her stays back at Skyhold.
She is still amazed by the grandeur of her new home.
When she is not addressing her council, or spending time with her new fiends; she often walks the halls and battlements of Skyhold. There are days when the others sit in the tavern and discuss her to themselves.
"I hope she is doing okay." Varric always the concerned one.
"She is tough, even the Qun recognized this."
"I don't get it." Sera shakes her head throwing up her arms, "there are baddies and people too small for their hats, but she is huge. But she stays small."
"There are not many people I admire. But, I'm still done picking all that elfroot." Dorian jests.
The tavern is dim, warm, and the songs fill the air around them. Drunken laughter and a unity is building in this place. The group is diverse as has ever been seen. Alliances between enemies sit in the wooden chairs, leaving behind enough power to resonate throughout the walls.
That night, Lavellan quietly leaves her quarters too busy in thought to sleep.
She sneaks her way to the undercroft, everyone has met their slumber.
It peaceful but hard and cold. Keeps her alert.
She pulls out her blades, a bit worn from the many uses of late.
Sitting to sharpen her blades. Slowly grinding the blade against the stone. Sparks flying around her.
She moves the blade up and down the spinning stone carefully.
Her love of her craft can be seen across her face. There is intent and commitment in her movements.
She is not the only one stirred this night and she soon feels the presents of another.
He walks slowly over to her, in his proud manner. Before he can speak, she is already taking note of him.
She stops her craft and turns to look at him, "I am sorry if I made you stir."
"You didn't make me do anything, I am here because I want to be." His eyes filled with the beauty he held her in. Pulling out his staff he starts working on some improvements of his own.
They sit in silence, each perfecting their weapons in steady thought.
After getting her blades to the perfect edge she goes to sheath them. He walks over before she can do so. "May I?" Holding out his hand.
She raised an eyebrow tilting her head in question.
"He places his hands on her blades and recites an old elven blessing. Like a song leaving his lips and she is lost for a moment, in him." Pulling the blades from her hands he sheaths the weapons that she wields in complete grace. Passion is filling the area around them.
She sits still and steady watching his hands as the move towards her. Her body is tingling and heart beats hard. Keeping her breath feels impossible.
"You should sleep we have a long day tomorrow."
Looking at him in longing she whispers, "how can I in a moment like this?"
Pulling her hands towards his chest, he pulls her up from her seat and places a gentle kiss on her lips.
Their bodies fully touching now, he holds her close for a moment.
He leads her out of the undercroft and hand in hand they walk toward her quarters.
No words are shared between the two on the walk up the steps. None are needed.
He pulls back the covers of her bed and gently lays her down. Kneeling beside her, his knees on the floor. She holds his hand close to her chest, her heart beat radiating through him.
Brushing his fingers through her hair, he stays by her side until she falls into sleep.
Quietly walking out to the main hall, staff in hand he is met by an unexpected face.
"Varric. "He states in an awkward stance.
"Solas," Varric replies walking on in avoidance.
Varric had been sitting at his table by the fire the whole time, He saw Lavellan go to the undercroft although he did not see Solas go in, just come out, and he assumed Solas was already in there.
He goes into the undercroft to nose about, as spying is his pastime.
On the table lay Lavellan's weapons. Shining and sharp.
"Well, I guess they were working on something after all, disappointing." Varric mumbles to himself.
Leaving the undercroft he is left in thought.
Many nights pass and there is no sign of Solas and Lavellan meeting or interacting beyond their fighting, discussing of the enemy they face, or the hours Lavellan lays on the couch in Solas room asking boring questions about the Fade and spirit stuff.
There has got to be something going on, Varric thinks to himself.
Those two are connected, I just don't know how.
A few more nights pass, and again Lavellan make her way quietly to the undercroft.
Sharping her blades.
This time, Varric has stashed himself in a crate. If he were to figure it out, he had to be in the place itself; confiding in himself to distract from the awkward position he finds himself in.
This time, as the last, Solas shows up. They work on their craft in mostly silence and just the same, Solas says something in elven like a blessing or song and walks Lavellan off to bed. Never staying long enough to justify anything more.
Varric, leaves the croft after a safe amount of time, just shaking his head. Just some other weird shit elves do, I guess. Unable to shake the feeling that there is something more.
Out in battle, Varric has become more aware of the movements and actions of his new elf friends.
Sera, elf as she may not think she is, plays her battle field. Every movement she makes is to find an advantage and show up her combaters. She has mastered her skills to the point of being bored by kills.
But, she makes up for that in her mild taunts and playful mannerisms.
If an enemy gets too close, you can catch her slipping her knife across their straps making them lose their breastplate or satchels, as she flips back sending a barrage of arrows to meet them. Grinning as she stops to wave their stolen goods at them as they take their last breath.
Solas is protective on the battle field. He uses a magic that is rare and just experiencing the fight with him is a lesson in itself. He holds no joy in his fight (as Sera does) but he is fierce. Even though he may not admit to the fun, there is nothing quite like the moment where a giant fade fist just upper cuts the face of an unprepared foe. I cannot believe he does not secretly think to himself – EAT IT!
Bull once tried to get him out of his shell and boast a bit, but he completely bored up the moment. Solas is just so real, it sometimes hurts. Someone need to put some elfroot in his drink. Varric sighs thinking about the battle banter that is lost in his matter of fact ways. As Sera would say, too elfy.
Lavellan may be tiny, but she hits harder than expected. After seeing how she treats her blades, I understand her more on the battle field. She is a huntress, stalking her prey, twisting in and out of a fight leaving the enemy shaking in his boots wondering where the next hit is going to come from. She is like a dance with death and she is leading the way.
I am pretty sure she enjoys killing the shems, though I am not sure I want to know her answer.
If I have learned anything thing about elves from her it would be - don't mess with their hunters.
In the very beginning she had skills, we all saw them. When we were out hunting some rams for the people in the Hinterlands, out of the blur she disappears and then reappears with both knives hooked into the ram, as it falls. I thought the ram was going to just run off dragging her with him, so I looked at Solas who sends a burst of ice, only to be met with her sheathing her blades.
But, the moment I started watching her, I mean really watching her, I saw her literally gut a guy.
It's not enough that she stabs bother her knives into their backs ripping them to the ground, but I have seen her reappear in front of another and take her blade, gut them, then dash over to hit the next guy.
But, the craziest moment, is when her and Solas meet eyes as the last foe hits the ground. Both still in their battle stances, facing each other. Their breathing labored and they both just… look at each other. It just makes me think harder about her, her knife love, and Solas doing whatever weird elf stuff he does to them.