Evelyn stood beneath a moonless night, glittering stars shimmering against an inky blue sky. Solas watched her slowly turn in a circle, the delight radiating from her face. Inquisition political affairs had kept her away from Skyhold a full two weeks this time, giving him ample opportunity to brood over her absence. His restless nighttime wanderings had taken him to her room on more than one occasion, finding the empty bed and cold hearth echoing the hollow in his chest. This project of his had started as a flight of fancy, a few embellishments to the room to give her something to find, little hidden touches to explore when she herself was restless. Quickly that turned to the elaborate project she now stood in awe of. "Are they... jewels?" she asked in wonder.
"No," he said quietly, remaining at his post beside the railing. "They sparkle because of a small enchantment."
"They're magic." She grinned openly.
"More of a parlor trick than anything."
"It's unbelievable."
"There was a time when everything was so imbued. Entire wall murals of forests with creatures that sprung to life when approached, floors painted like the sea, replete with swirling depths."
She cocked a brow at him. "All that and I just get a few twinkling stars?"
"I am but one man."
She nodded slowly, chewing her lower lip as her eyes again swept over the painted ceiling. "That you are."
As the sun sank lower, painting the mountains a deep amber, Evelyn sat on her couch with legs folded beneath her, sorting through missives and organizing them into tidy stacks, ranked by urgency. Solas was draped across the other end, legs sprawled as he held his book up close to his face. They had settled into this easy companionship almost without his notice; hours that would normally be spent in heavy tension giving way to something more comfortable and solid. It had happened so smoothly, so seamlessly that it was positively terrifying. He was accustomed to her presence. Such familiarity was dangerous, in certain circumstances. It made it much more likely to be caught off guard, or with your defenses down completely.
"Solas?" she asked, stretching her arms over her head. "Are you moving in?"
"Hmmm?" he looked up from his reading.
She jutted a chin toward the corner, where his supplies still stood.
"Oh. I meant to take that down. You arrived sooner than I anticipated. If it bothers you, I could..." he watched as she rose and padded barefoot toward the offending objects: a small leather roll that contained brushes, some small jars in a case, an assortment of scattered bottles that gave off a slight glow. Evelyn dropped to a crouch and palmed one of the bottles, rolling it in her hands.
"It's warm."
"That particular mix does give off heat, yes."
"Is it safe to touch?"
"Quite safe. It was sometimes used for runic healing." He tossed his book on the sofa and took the bottle from her hand, removing the stopper. Placing the tip of his index finger over the opening, he turned the bottle over and then uprighted it, stoppering the top once again. "Give me your hand."
She extended her open hand and he slid his palm over hers, fingers snaking toward her wrist. With a swipe of his finger, he gently stroked the glimmering concoction across the base of her palm. Evelyn trembled as she felt her wrist flood with warmth. "Wow," she breathed. "And the blue? Does that warm, as well?"
"No, that one is cooler, pricklier."
"And the green?"
"Like bubbled water, fresh from a spring."
She nodded, lips slightly parted. "How many of these vials did you say you had?"
"There are eleven total. There were thirteen, but I used the last of the yellow and white on the ceiling."
"Just two bottles for the entire ceiling?" her tongue played with the corner of her mouth.
"A little goes a long way."
"Does it? Show me."
Solas tossed her the bottle, which she caught between her hands. "Take off your clothes." He strode down the stairs as she watched, head cocked. When she heard the bolt slide shut from below, she smiled a crooked smile, hurriedly undoing the buttons of her jacket.
The sun had slipped behind the mountain range, with only the flicker of the fire and candles playing across her bare flesh as she laid back, hair splayed against the pillows. He knelt over her, brush tapping against his lips, and frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
"Your breasts."
She gave a laugh of complete incredulity. "My breasts are wrong?"
"Your breasts are perfect, and right now perfectly in the way of my perfectly planned line. Turn over." There was a moment where it seemed she might protest before she rolled onto her belly. Straddling her hips, he twisted her hair into a coil with his finger and draped it forward over her shoulder.
"Can I ask what this perfectly planned line..." the end of her question dissolved into a gasp as she felt the icy sparks spread from her tailbone to the base of her skull.
"Hold still," he murmured, making quick strokes off to either side of her spine, each movement of the brush eliciting another noisy breath from her. Evelyn heard the mattress creak as he shifted to sit back on his heels, surveying his handiwork. There was the light clink of glass and another shift in his position before his brush swirled against her left hip in widening circles, leaving a firey trace of pigment that flushed her surrounding flesh pink. He ended the spiral and moved the brush across the back of her thigh, tracing the curve of the muscle beneath. She felt him tip forward, his hands resting on either side of her as he lowered himself toward her neck and then slowly down her spine, exhaling a warm breath against his tracings. The potion responded by igniting a fresh sensation of burning chill that infused her nerves, causing an involuntary spasm in her toes.
"Turn on your side," he commanded, guiding her hip with his hand. He extended the spiral pattern there up along her side, lining her rib cage with tiny circular patterns that made her eyelids flutter shut. The brush then withdrew and he rocked backward onto his heels again, looping a hand beneath her left knee to tug her onto her back. With her foot braced against his shoulder, he carefully spiraled around the leg, the loops narrowing the nearer he grew to her ankle. The brush dipped into another vessel, this one dark and smokey looking. Placing the brush between his teeth, he switched to her opposite limb, drawing a swift line from ankle to inner thigh, stopping just short of the juncture. Evelyn made a low whine, eyes closed, face turned to the side.
"Not yet," he said in a low voice, turning her knee outward to better focus his attentions on her lower abdomen. "You have to let me finish this."
The fibers of the brush continued to dance maddening patterns across her torso, dipping to her hips, pelvis, sweeping over her ribs until she glowed every bit as much as the painted sky above her. Each pattern brought with it a new sensation dancing across her flesh, making her feel woozy and unfocused, spinning on the coverlet as he moved over her. The feeling slowed, bringing her into a heightened reality where every inch of her body seemed to sing with its own individual voice. She waved a hand in front of her face, watching the dreamy way the fingers blurred with motion, tiny winged creatures shimmering on the surface of her palm, sending the fluttery feeling throughout her limbs.
"This is... I wish I could describe it. It's so delicate, but encompassing." She gazed down at him with heavy hooded eyes, watching as he cleaned the brush on a cloth at the foot of the bed. "It's impossible. I wish..." her eyes drifted closed for a moment, the smile spreading across her face. She opened her eyes again, lazily grinning, and found him bare-chested above her. "I wish you could feel it."
He dipped his head low, catching her lower lip in his mouth and lightly nipping it with his teeth. She sucked in a noisy breath and reached to pull him closer. "You needn't worry, vhenan. I intend to."