Combined two prompts. They asked for Solas reminiscing about the fade kiss, and Inquisitor Lavellan injured with Solas tending to her.
They had done so before. Indirectly of course. The pass of waterskins quite common between them. But this was on an entirely different level of contact. The press of her mouth against his still raw.
Solas had analyzed the scenario constantly since then, asking himself why he had acted in such a primal manner, but there was no answer to be found. He could have easily denied her. Turned her advances away and directed them elsewhere, yet he did no such thing. He had pulled her tight against him, tasting her mouth as if he had been fasting for years. He had savored the feel of her tongue against his and the way she met his passion with equal enthusiasm.
A moment of distraction welcomed if only for that second in time.
Solas knew that perusing her would only end in heartache. To broken promises and unfulfilled wishes. To actions which would only grow guilt in his lungs. But he was selfish, and the thrill of her hand upon his was too much to ignore.
So he submitted.
Allowing himself to be whisked away in the tousled strands of her hair as she brought a knee up into a Venatori archer's chest, bursting the air that had welled in their abdomen. He was faintly aware of the staff twirling between his open palms, channeling a spell down the length of the wood and sending it at the archer, his mind far too muddled with the breathless image of her parting lips roughed red by his mouth.
When the body crumpled and shattered to the ground, Solas folded his arms across his staff, leaning his weight against it as he waited to see which path they would take. The man's shoulders fell slightly as he felt his mind wandering once more.
It would be far easier if she were not someone of importance. A tryst would be easily forgotten but this…he knew it would turn into an affair. A doorway that allowed feelings of something more to develop, and it shocked him that the idea of such things did not trouble him as much as they should.
Setting aside the topic and his worry for another time, Solas followed his companions up the mountainous path focusing instead on the task before them. He could hear Sera's crude comments about a woman in the past town to Iron Bull, and he scowled at their raucous laughter. To speak so plainly and unabashed about their desires would draw out demons, his eyes searching the trees that towered above them. They would need to use caution, he warned the other mage in their party as he caught up with her short strides. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, grinding her teeth together habitually, giving a short nod to show she heard him.
Interesting.
He leaned closer to her ear and asked if there was something on her mind. The startled jerk of her shoulders spoke volumes. Solas soothed a palm over her hitched shoulder blades, giving her what he meant to be a reassuring smile but it only seemed to rattle her further. Letting his hand fall from her robe, he tsked.
He would never understand the Dalish.
Solas let out a groan, kneeling down to rub at his sore toes. They had been climbing for the majority of the day, and the trek was beginning to wear on them all. Sera had succeeded in tumbling down the razor cliff at least twice last he had counted. Splitting the skin of her knees open, but thankfully she managed to avoid getting the worst damage possible from her falls. The qunari was trying his best to not show the strain was taking a toll on him. The sweat on the middle of his back reflecting the light of the setting sun as he adjusted the harness of his massive axe once more, giving away his exhaustion. As for their leader, she appeared no worse for wear. Her arms stretched above her head as she rolled her presumably sore muscles, catching his gaze she flashed a quick grin. It seemed that she had been able to overcome what had been troubling her.
Good. They did not need any distractions, he reminded himself and made to stand up, but the rumble of the earth caught him off guard.
The vibrations toppled him to the ground as well as knocked Sera off her feet and into the bushes. "PISS!"She spat, struggling to shake off the brambles and branches. "Did not sign up for this, Herald! That was a dragon, innit?" The Iron Bull's grin as he loosened his axe from its bindings were all that answered her. "Oh piss!" They jumped to action then, readying their weapons and ducking into the underbrush to gauge where the roar had come from. The mercenary pointed two fingers up ahead of them and to the left. "Boss?" His question condensed into one word and the anxious shift of his posture as he awaited her order.
The Inquisitor gave him a nod, causing his lips to crack into a grin. "Alright!" With that they charged into the fray, weaving and crouching down to avoid the flames.
Solas had known it would end horribly as it almost always seemed to. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to will away the faint whisper of a growing headache. They had been reckless and they all were paying for it.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder and limped up the stairs, avoiding putting much of his weight on his left ankle. Reaching the top of the stairs made him want to crumple to floor in relief, but he swallowed the feeling knowing that it would be difficult standing if he did so.
Juggling the cup of tea between his wrapped palms, he approached the bed warily. "Is there a reason as to why you drink this swill?" He placed the cup into her upturned hand, careful not to jostle the hot liquid.
"I personally find it pleasant and relaxing." The woman sighed wistfully as she inhaled the steam "But I supposed we can not all have your impeccable taste, Solas."
He lounged in the chair set beside her bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he assessed her. She seemed to be improving rather quickly, the pain no longer stuttering her movements as she balanced the cup on her thigh. Her back was pressed against the pillows, hair rendered a frazzled mess due to being bed ridden.
She looked as if she had a plume of wool on her head.
A chuckle slipped from his lips as he commented on her disheveled appearance. Not taking to his comment kindly, her face screwed up in frustration. "It is not as if I can do much on my own. It is hard enough to ask Mother Giselle for assistance in dressing." She snorted and turned her nose up at him, dismissing him with the simple movement. The man ignored her blunt dismissal and reached out to card his fingers through the matted mane.
"Do not be ashamed to ask for help, Lavellan. Everyone has asked for assistance at one time or another."
"Even you?"
His brows furrowed as he gave her a curt nod, untangling her hair with tender fingers.
"Especially I."
He halted his movements to peer around the room for a comb, his fingers rather inadequate at taming her locks. Spotting it on the vanity, he made to raise himself but the fingers that weaved between his caught him.
"When was the last time? You seem to always be content with your abilities. You make your own potions, stitch your robes, and even prepare your meals. I just can not imagine you ever needing another."
The question tightened around his neck like a noose. He knew that his answer would remove the false floor beneath his soles, sending him crashing to the earth and breathless.
With a deep breath and against his better judgment, he ignored the ramifications and sat on the edge of her bed, reaching out to caress the back of her hand with his thumb.
"It was not outright, mind you. Distance had become a way of life, it was a comfort once but the appeal had vanished long ago. She noticed this. I am still unsure as to how she knew, but I saw it in her actions. The invitations to trek outside the camp to collect elfroot. The way she seemed genuine in her attempts to learn more about my interests. About me." He clasped her hands tightly, trailing his fingers over the scars sprinkled across her flesh. "Thank you, Lavellan. I did not ask for such a precious gift, but I am grateful." He brushed his lips across her knuckles, his mouth lingering a moment longer than needed.
The action had the Inquisitor clearing her throat nervously, pulling her hands away to grasp at the cup of chilled tea. Her grip trembled as she raised it to her mouth, unsure of how to answer or react to this revelation. Not allowing her the chance to speak, Solas stood from the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in his tunic.
"My apologies, Inquisitor. If you should ever need anything, I will be at your disposal." The smirk before he descended from her room had her burying her face into one of the pillows at her side. Surely she had imagined the way his eyes had softened as he gazed at her. Had mistaken the expression on his face as fondness. She clutched at the covers.
Did he honestly wish to pursue something with her?
The lingering memories of their shared kiss in the Fade had her clasping a hand over her mouth.
It certainly seemed so.
