Keela storms into the Western Approach camp with Solas nipping at her heels.
"You cannot truly approve of their actions," he says, eyes dark with disbelief and disgust.
She throws her hands up and stops, turning to face him with a stubborn look of her own. "I don't approve of their methods, no! Raising a demon army? It's madness. But their idea of venturing into the Deep Roads to kill the remaining old gods has merit. I don't see a downside in stopping future Blights before they even begin."
"Of course you would believe so, da'len," he scoffs. "You do not think for a moment that these old gods are worth preserving. So much of the past lays in ruin, in no small part due to the fumbling of your people, and you would see more of it should be restored, not discarded."
Keela crosses her arms. "Are you sure you are not Dalish, hahren? It's a wonder you can't find comfort in their company when both of you are so concerned with the past that you care for little else. Arlathan fell. The old ways had their moment and now it is ourtime."
"And what would you do? Completely forgo the past and its knowledge in favor of a clean slate? Only a fool would not see the benefit of learning from what came before."
"I'm a fool then?"
Solas sighs, his expression softening. "I did not say that you were, merely-"
She advances upon him, a finger pointed inches from his chest. There is still blood on her skin from their fight with Erimond's wardens, but it's the conviction in her voice that makes her seem deadlier. "I dream of something new unshackled from the world before. You dream of ruins and pine for the past, too blind to see...to see..."
"What can I not see?" he asks and in the face of his annoyance Keela takes a breath and moves even closer.
"To see the future right within your reach." Her voice is soft, but there's a loud thunder building inside her eyes that speaks of a hurricane on the horizon.
Silence falls across the camp. Solas glances down at her lips, parched from the unforgiving sun, and his eyes fill with a different type of heat. It promises to consume them both with flames licking against skin, brushing tongues of passion whose caress would remain long after.
He takes a step back before the fire catches, hands meeting behind his back. "Only a fool would not see that," he replies with a steady voice extinguished, yet a spark still lingers deep within his gaze.
"And are you a fool?" she asks and does not wait for his answer.
Yes, he thinks as he watches her walk away from him, captivated by the presence she possesses even in her absence, knowing he will not be able to do the same to her so easily now. Yes I am a fool, indeed.