Prompt asked for Lavellan teaching Solas to whistle.
The noise sent a shiver up his spine and left him cupping one of his ears quickly. Fingers pressed to his earlobe in an attempt to will the dull ache away.
"Why do you persist? I asked you to cease doing such things." Solas grumbled, hastily dipping his brush back into the paint in order to finish as quickly as possible. He could hear her passing behind him, and frowned when she started to scramble up the ladder. "You always say that. I think you are just jealous." The elven woman knocked shoulders with him playfully, causing paint to splatter and drip onto his tunic. Solas' eyes flicked down thoughtfully at his clothing before he plunged two fingers into the paste and smeared it across her cheek roughly. "Vhenan, you see that I am preoccupied. Perhaps we can continue this another time..." He was not asking, more so as demanding her to leave him. But she ignored his orders and flicked paint at him instead.
"I can teach you." The Inquisitor grinned when Solas gave a reluctant nod. "Very well, but you must leave once we are finished. I would rather not repeat what happened last time." He frowned and cast a longing gaze to his once lovely sofa now splattered, streaked, and permanently covered to protect it from any further abuse. She clicked her tongue and shook her head quickly. "A fluke! You know that was not my intended result." The woman patted his shoulder to draw his attention back to her. But he remained quiet and made a motion for her to get on with her teachings.
"Lavellan. I am interested in this no longer. Please remove yourself from my company." Solas commanded, wringing his hands together in a show of mortification. The Inquisitor had collapsed into giggles on the wooden platform, her arms wrapped tight around her abdomen as if her innards were going to seep out at anytime. "Y-you can't..! Oh Creators! The face you made!" She snickered, finally gaining enough control to heft herself into a seated position. Solas was seething and contemplated nudging her off the platform. She had fallen from it before. Surely a little bump on the head would not hurt her. "You jest. It is impossible to do such a thing. You must have one of Scout Hardings flutes in your mouth."
Striking his hand out, he grasped her chin tightly. "Move your tongue" She sighed and parted her lips to touch her tongue to either side of her cheeks. "See. No flute." She remarked smugly, tapping a finger against his nose. "No need to be ashamed. There are plenty things you are amazing at." Eyebrows wiggled to send the innuendo home.
She was answered with a firm flick on the middle of her forehead before the hand slid down to pet her jaw lightly. "You are exasperating." Solas caressed her cheek with his thumb tenderly, the paint flecking from her skin with his movements. Leaning in he touched his forehead to her's in a brief show of affection and when he pulled away, he waved a hand to the ladder. "Now away with you. I am far too busy to take part in your foolish games." Coming from anyone else the phrase would have been biting, yet he had nothing but fondness etched across his face which drew a wink from the woman.
Once she left the rotunda, unable to come up with an excuse to linger, Solas let his forehead rest against the bare wall. The man stared at the droplets which had seeped into the fibers of his trousers, sucking on his teeth in contemplation. He had not expected her to be so vibrant in comparison to the dulled shell the People had become.
Perhaps there was still hope for them yet.