"She's completely childish! Have you even heard of the things she's done?!"

The Commander rubbed his temples at Solas' ranting as he leaned over his desk, "I'll confront Sera about these pranks later today after I've finished my prior engagement with Josephine-"

Solas scoffed, "Actually, no need to worry about Sera. No one's seen her since yesterday."

"Then why are you bringing this to my?"

"It seems her… 'friends' are still around. I've had no respite from this torment." Solas sneered.

Cullen raised his eyebrows, "Well I don't know what you expect me to be able to do, and it seems like neither do you." The Commander then stood from his desk and walked over to the elf, standing face to face. "I can't help you against petty pranks from an unknown assailant. Eggs falling from the sky and bags of burning animal waste are the least of my problems right now. If you can get me names or faces, I might be able to help you…" He left the sentence hanging, feeling nothing more needed to be said. He looked into Solas' eyes and felt pity, but there was simply nothing that could be done.

Solas stiffened, curt formality taking over his emotions, "Forget I said anything, Commander. You've been most helpful." Then he left in a quiet rage, never looking back, mumbling "Nuva vher av ma, i banalhan av vher."

The elf left Skyhold then, ignoring the passing glances everyone was giving him as he walked by. He knew the answers that Nightingale's courier had extracted from him had gotten around. Skyhold was a large fortress, but a small community, and secrets and scandals were always uncovered. Everyone knew about the skeletons in everyone else's closet. But Solas didn't care.

However, it took everything within his power to not unleash hell when, as he walked along the bridge that led out-or in-to Skyhold, a pie fell from above just as he passed under the arch of the main gate and missed him by mere inches, splattering all over the cobblestone and a little getting on the edge of his shoe. The elf shouted in fury as he ran off, wanting to get as far away from people as he possibly could. He no longer wanted any part in the Inquisition.

It would be some time before he reached a place where he felt comfortably isolated from the rest of the world. And wrapped in his isolation, he would escape to his dreams-to the Fade for his respite.

The spirits of the Fade gave Solas comfort, speaking in the Elvhen language of the Ancient Elves which Solas so dearly preferred. They always welcomed the elf with open arms, enjoying the friendship of someone who did not wish to use them for personal desires. And Solas enjoyed the spirits' absolute understanding. They did not judge him for his quest for lost knowledge, nor try to deter him from his current path. They accepted him as he was.

In elvhen, a spirit of Wisdom spoke: "It's been quite a long time since you've come to seek my counsel."

Solas replied: "I needed to be alone…"

The spirit laughed, "But you're not alone."

"I meant-"

"I know."

Solas sighed as he watched his dream-induced vision of the Fade swim slightly, like a tree swaying in a breeze. "I am tormented, by the people I once thought my friends."

Wisdom spoke with a flat, low tone, "Friends do not bring pain to other friends."

"No… they don't."

"Yet I feel your emotions turning like a violent wave. Is there something more?"

Solas stared out at the landscape before him, an ever changing painting of green mountains and rolling fog. "It's been a while now… months, at least…"

"The elvhen girl."

"Yes." The elf's voice caught at the end, a lump formed in his throat. Andra had been his dearest friend, even though he resented her dedication to the Dalish. She had given him new perspective, challenged his beliefs, and always took his criticism without complaint. But he could tell that his words wore on her, that she tried dearly to cling to the truth she had believed in for so long. And with their last argument, Solas had felt an overwhelming sense of pride when he saw that his words had finally broken through her barriers, as if she was hearing him for the first time.

"You feel responsible for what happened." Wisdom spoke when Solas had remained silent, cutting through the elf's thoughts.

"No! She ran away because she was too afraid to face the truth! She clings to the Dalish like it's her lifeline; she believes in their ignorance; she still thinks the Vallaslin on her face brings her closer to the gods! She-!"

"-Has only ever known a life nurtured by the Dalish." Wisdom cut in. "And you forget that she is the first of her clan to have ever had contact with the rest of the world. You condemn her for something she's had no choice in, find her guilty for a life that's all she's ever known. Most importantly, you wasted no time with easing her into a new perspective. Instead, you bombarded her with words that shook the very foundation of her life. Of course she ran away." The spirit's words were soft and calm like a gentle wave, but they hit Solas like a hammer coming down on a nail.

"I… have not looked at it that way…"

The spirit said nothing, merely watching the elf as he stared at the ground.

Solas' dream morphed from that of a foggy green mountain to an endless field under the night sky, stars twinkling from their midnight canopy. Never before had he realized how much he took his ability to lucid dream for granted. As a mage, it was a natural reflex. But it brought up new realizations to the surface: his passion and knowledge for the ancient elves was also something he was taking for granted. While not quite directly, Andra made Solas realize that he was the only one in the whole world who cared enough to seek out the truth of their people, adamantly. And few people were privy to the knowledge he held. Yet he always preached about the elves like it was so obvious-the Dalish ever the fools.

But it wasn't that way.

Solas dropped his head back, staring up at the faux stars, "What's done is done."

"Not even an apology?" Wisdom quirked with the tilting of its head to the side.

"Our quarrel… had been going on for much longer than that single fight. I doubt, highly, that she'd ever want to hear from me again."

"Do you truly know that?"

Solas sighed heavily, watching as the Fade began turning blurry with the signs that he was waking up, "I don't even know what I'd say."

"'Ir abelas'…"

The dream faded as Solas' mind rose to consciousness. His eyes opened to the bright sunlight that shone through the treetops of the Brecilian Forest, a place that was now abandoned by most. Not since the threat of the Fifth Blight-eradicated by the Hero of Ferelden-had the Forest seen life outside of its natural inhabitants. The Dalish clan led by Zathrian had moved far away after the death of their Keeper-who had given his life to end an age old curse set in place by his old hatred-and no longer did whispered rumors sprout about monstrous werewolves. Only the Sylvans remained with the smaller animal life, yet they remained stoic and no longer had any interest in conversing with the races. To anyone who did not know what to look for, they would have appeared as simple trees. As result, over the last ten years since the acts of the Hero of Ferelden, people were already starting to forget about the magic in the forest.

"Ir abelas…" Solas repeated, as he sat up and reached for his staff to help him stand.

It would be a long, tedious journey to the Free Marches, and he still didn't quite know if it was a good idea at all, but his friend had given him advice worth taking. Even if his words fell on deaf ears, he would speak them, if only to set his own mind at peace. The rest was out of his hands.

And at least with all the time that would accompany his journey, Solas would have a moment to think on what he would say when he reached his destination. If he would even say anything other than an apology at all.

.

.

.

ELVHEN USED:

Nuva vher av ma, i banalhan av vher : "May the cat eat you, and the Blight eat the cat."
Ir abelas : "I'm sorry."