With a mangled breath, Lavellan surges up in bed, the imprint of Solas's smiling face against his eyelids fading faster with every blink as his eyes adjust to the darkness. It wasn't real—Haven, the tents, the air biting his cheeks, the snow reflecting the sun so brightly Lavellan could scarcely make his conversation partner out against the clear sky. It shouldn't be such a surprise, it's not like Lavellan's never dreamed before, and he's a mage, the hot summer days spent squinting at the Keeper during lessons as a young child had hardly left him unacquainted with the fact his and all dreams had their origins in the Fade. And yet…
Slowly, his breath steadies, though his heart still rattles in his chest. Solas had appeared in his dream… and didn't tell him that he was going to do it, had led him to a place Lavellan himself had buried in white frigidity without a warning or a word. Or had he? Was it in a dream where Lavellan sought him out in the first place, when Solas suggested they should speak somewhere nicer? He can't tell anymore, the line between his life and the Fade blurrier than ever, and he presses his fingers to his eyelids until he sees colours draw their way across them. He can't even prove that he'd really seen Solas at all—the real Solas, anyway… or the real Fade version of Solas. It isn't as if every person who's appeared in Lavellan's dreams had the same dreams as him at the same time or meant everything they did in them or even existed at all in the Fade in any way more substantial than as a perception or a memory.
A matter of debate, Solas had said when Lavellan realized the Haven he and Solas were in wasn't real, and his toes curl. How often did Solas do this—go into the dreams of other people, not telling them immediately that that was what he was doing? Could he do it without ever revealing himself? Lavellan's stomach drops at the thought—an ability like that could be exploited so easily, used to make suggestions and influence people through their dreams in ways that would be impossible in real life. How had Solas even known where to find him? The Fade is so expansive, by its very nature the only limits to its shape are the confines of one's inner world; every thought, memory, feeling, or point of view they ever had. To identify a single person in a place so infinite, so endless, but still consciously manipulable… well, perhaps all it takes to press a memory or mental image of them to the forefront of one's mind. Lavellan swallows, hard. How many of his dreams has Solas seen? How many would he choose to enter, without Lavellan ever knowing?
The wideness leaves his eyes and he sits back against the headboard, lips twisting into a closed frown. He doesn't know how Solas did it, doesn't know how he could stop it from happening again if he wanted to. Perhaps it's only natural that Solas prefers to converse in the Fade, a place that to Solas is more of a home than the rest of the world ever was, the place that had inspired him to travel Thedas and leave the small village he'd grown up in. Lavellan can understand the appeal in some ways, the intrigue of a place existing in intangibilities and unknowableness, private and personal and yet created through magic and some kind of collective consciousness. Listening to the way Solas is enraptured by it, the existences within the Fade that furl themselves around his voice—soft, affectionate, so confident in the intimacy of his experience with it as to straighten his shoulders when he speaks and paint a smile over his sharp features—Lavellan can imagine why one would spend so much of their life in sleep, can see how someone might find something beautiful in the ever-changing subjectivity of memory and dreams. Solas is thoughtful, wise, an ancient statuesqueness in his demeanor that makes his preference for the unworldly easy to conceive of, but for every moment of glittering reverence that touches Solas's eyes when they travel, Lavellan knows that something in him is burning.
The first rays of the sun stream out from between the mountains, and Lavellan is unsure of what to feel, whether the Solas of his dream was the real Solas or Lavellan's own projection is a matter of uncertainty, whether he should be honoured or angry or afraid that Solas might've put aside regard for Lavellan's privacy for a chance to talk in the place that Solas loves most. I felt the whole world change, Solas said in the dream, and Lavellan can imagine it, the voices of hundreds or thousands of spirits, each of whom Solas knows by name, green cracking across a sky that's supposed to be impermeable and a stirring in the ground to match the stirring under Solas's skin, speaking, I am change, I am difference, vivid enough to make his breath catch in his throat. Why couldn't Solas say it aloud? Why did he need to impede upon the relative safety and comfort of secrecy that were once Lavellan's dreams just to speak?
"Damn it, Solas," he mutters under his breath. It would've been so simple just to ask, 'Inquisitor Lavellan, why don't we speak somewhere more pleasant? Let me visit you in your dreams tonight and I can show you.' But no, he'd needed style, the element of surprise, the chance to tell Lavellan to wake up in a knowing tone that makes him seem not ancient after all, and Lavellan can't believe he did that, something so incredible and so terrifying, something that makes Lavellan question if he can ever truly trust Solas again while highlighting to him every reason he holds Solas in high respect and regard. Solas isn't contradictory, but Lavellan's contradictory feelings for him seem so appropriate because it is Solas. He sighs, worrying the edge of the blanket between his thumb and index finger, and supposes the best way to resolve the unanswered questions will be by doing what he's grown accustomed to doing every time he has unresolved questions lately—he'll go ask Solas. The uneasiness bites at Lavellan's chest again, he's only known Solas a few months but the man who saved his life with unprecedented knowledge of Rifts and the Mark had become intertwined with Lavellan's life, so much so that his life before the Breach is a memory distant enough that Solas would have a better chance mining details of it in the Fade than Lavellan would trying to remember, so much so that Lavellan can barely begin to conceive of life once everything goes back to normal, when Lavellan returns to the Dalish and Solas continues his travels alone, disappearing again into obscurity, unavailable to answer questions or tell tales of what he's seen or violate Lavellan's dreams out of appreciation for incorporeal beauty. How deep does the appreciation run? How far might Solas take it? Lavellan swings his legs over the side of the bed, rises to a stand and straightens his shirt. He has no idea the extent of Solas's capabilities or his disregard for boundaries, and he has to wonder whether it's really Solas he's disturbed by, or himself for being so afraid and so fascinated in tandem. He sighs, long and drawn-out, allows himself a single shudder, then opens the door, leaving his quarters to seek out answers from the man who almost always has them.
A/N: One of my friends said, "welcome to video game hell," a few days after the Dragon Age talk started, and I feel like that's a pretty accurate description of my current state… I don't even like video games generally; I literally only play the Dragon Age series, Dreamfall: The Longest Journey, the Portal series and The Sims 3. I never really expected I'd fall so hard for this game, and to be honest this didn't happen until a year after I played Origins for the first time. I just finished Inquisition yesterday (haven't played Trespasser yet though, please don't spoil), and I already miss Solas like hell. This scene though, where Solas appears in the Inquisitor's dreams, honestly freaked me out so much I could barely play the game for the next few days and thought about it constantly, battling with how the scene renewed my appreciation for Solas but also completely broke my trust in him and made me worry throughout the rest of the game that he'd hurt me even though I loved him. Anyway… thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated!