Sometimes I get acid reflux, and then I can't sleep for an entire night. Or an entire week of nights, depending on how things are going. I think I need a new espresso maker, because French press is not helping matters.

Anyway, I'll be updating as often as I get enough sleep to actually edit. Sorry if some of these end up a little rough.

Translations at the bottom.

Metaphors

"I should have put my hair up," I told Solas as the icy breeze toyed with it.

"I would be pleased to brush it again," he assured me - and did his cheeks get a little redder? It was hard to tell with the cold, but I was starting to wonder about his interest in my hair.

Our group came over the hill, talking and laughing, though I noted that all of our past selves looked strained and tired. The Emprise du Lion had been a difficult assignment, and I was suddenly glad for Sera's often-ridiculous whims. Clearly we had needed this.

Past-Solas and I were walking together, deep in conversation, and I noted how he bent toward me, his smile both gentle and utterly delighted - but I listened to the conversation between Iron Bull, Varric, and Sera, the three of them placing bets on how many times Dorian and I each fell down, as well as which parts of our bodies made contact with the ice.

I turned to Solas. "You weren't paying attention to this." I indicated the money Sera and Bull were currently handing to Varric. "How do you know what they were talking about?"

He lifted one eyebrow. "Spirits. There were always spirits observing us. It was a simple enough matter to find those who remembered this moment. The conversation may not have gone precisely like that, but it gives you the general idea."

"Wait - do spirits still observe my every move? Are all my attempts at stealth completely useless?" I demanded.

"Perhaps and - not precisely. Spirits are attracted to emotion and moments of great import, remember. Even if I sent one to observe you and report back all you said, if you were merely going about your daily routine, it would likely get bored and drift away. The odds it would remember your words with any real accuracy are also-" he shrugged. "No better than even, I would say. The spirit must be tailored to the emotion to have any real interest in it, after all. I would likely get further speaking to spirits naturally attracted to you - but then they might very well refuse to tell me what I wanted to know."

My eyes narrowed. "I don't know if I believe you."

He chuckled. "You are staying at the College of Enchanters, are you not? Surely it boasts a few mages who know something of spirits. Verify with them."

"I will," I sniffed, which made him laugh again.

Those of us planning to ice skate had made our way down to the edge of the river as present-Solas and I talked. I watched us strapping on skates for a moment, and then turned my attention to the rest of the group, where Bull was building a fire as Varric prepared to heat water. Vivienne was directing a few scouts she had appropriated from camp to tie up a hammock, as cushions to line it drifted tamely after her. Cassandra and Cole were watching us as we moved out onto the ice - some with more grace than others. Cole's eyes were wide with both interest and alarm, and I could see Cassandra smiling slightly as she explained to him what we were doing, and probably some of why. Solas had located a log, cleared it of snow, and was puzzling through his book.

Everything was relatively quiet for a while. Varric began heating water for tea and the "cocoa" stuff Bull had brought along - there hadn't been any left when I rejoined the group, and I wasn't certain I would have wanted to try it anyway, though Sera had assured me it tasted better than the muddy water it appeared to be. Cassandra laughed a few times as Cole asked naïve questions. Vivienne arranged herself on her makeshift divan with a portable writing desk that she usually kept in her tent, and began writing - probably letters. On the river, Dorian and I fell down a lot, with Sera and Harding helping us up again. Blackwall skated about carefully, testing the strength of the ice.

Then Cole drifted down closer to the river, and Cassandra didn't follow, instead moving back up the hill toward the rest of the group.

"I confess myself impressed, Solas," she said, coming to stand near him.

He looked up from his book, surprised. "By what, Seeker?" He glanced toward the ice briefly - just in time to see me fall onto Sera, carrying us both to the ground. Blackwall, watching, laughed and then skated over to help us up before returning to his testing.

Cassandra nodded towards my past self as Blackwall finished helping me regain my feet and released my hand. I used it to clutch Sera's arm as he skated away, and I could see myself taking slow, deep breaths as I tried to find my balance. "You are very secure in your affection for her, and hers for you, I think. I rarely see you display anything approaching jealousy, despite her closeness to the rest of us. I find that admirable."

Solas's eyebrows arched in surprise, and then his eyes narrowed as, below, I abruptly hugged Sera's arm, just managing to keep my feet under me. Sera's nose wrinkled playfully as she whispered something in my ear - something about giving her ideas by putting my hands all over her, if I remembered correctly - and then we both laughed as I rolled my eyes at her. That last part admittedly wasn't visible from this distance. "Fenedhis," Solas muttered, snapping his book closed.

Vivienne had paused in her writing as Cassandra and Solas spoke, and now she returned to her page with a smirk. "Well played, my dear Seeker," she told Cassandra as Solas rose to his feet, stalking toward the river.

Cassandra shrugged, though she looked satisfied. "I merely wished to know. He and Cullen - "

"I have been curious about that myself," Vivienne conceded. "All that wariness and scrupulous politeness might have been about their roles as Templar and apostate, but - "

"But I think we know now that is not the whole of it," Cassandra finished for her, this time sounding very satisfied indeed. Then she recalled herself and sighed. "Though such curiosity is perhaps inappropriate in my position. And yours."

"Not at all, my dear," Vivienne contradicted her quickly. "You are one of our Inquisitor's closest friends and confidants, and she is clearly captivated by him. Nothing is more natural than wishing to know if he is similarly enamored with her."

Cassandra shot Vivienne a cynical glance over her shoulder. "And the political implications of their love affair are, of course, inconsequential to you."

"They are of great consequence not only to me, but to all of Thedas," Vivienne replied. "But that in no way undermines my honest and affectionate desire for the Inquisitor's happiness."

The Seeker stared at Vivienne for another moment, then shook her head in apparent disgust and moved to join Varric and Bull nearer the fire.

I looked at present-Solas, still standing beside me as we watched the scene unfold. "Cullen?" I asked. "Cullen had an interest in me?"

He gestured and everything froze. "You didn't know?" he asked, surprised.

"No. Cassandra told me there had been someone, and might still be, but I didn't press the subject." I shrugged. "It didn't matter, seeing as I have no interest in acting on it. I can't believe it was Cullen, though." I glanced toward the river. "I also can't believe you were jealous of Sera and Blackwall. She was already with Dagna by this point, and he was more than half in love with Josephine."

Solas snorted. "Though I attempt to retain a calm demeanor, I am not a man of moderate temper or passions," he glanced at me, "which you know well. Besides," he added, "Sera is a flirt. And though Blackwall was far too awed by you to do anything so crass as admire your appearance, his obvious admiration of your many other qualities was occasionally uncomfortable. For me." He hesitated a moment. "Admittedly, watching the commander's eyes follow you longingly any time we were at Skyhold might have set me on edge and made me more susceptible to smaller irritations like these."

I looked up at him skeptically. "I think I would have noticed if Cullen had been staring at me longingly."

"Apparently not," Solas retorted. "How many times was I forced to watch him bent over you at the war table as you discussed troop movements, his eyes fixed on you instead of the counters? I believe, had you once looked up and blushed, or smiled, or been anything other than perfectly, blindly professional, he might have kissed you." A small smile suddenly curled his lips. "But you never noticed." He looked more satisfied as he took my hand. I was busy thinking over every war scenario and discussion of troop movements Cullen and I had ever spent time on, trying to see what Solas was telling me. Mostly - I just remembered counters on the map. Anxiety over whether we were making the best possible decision. Fear that Corypheus might outmaneuver us as he had at Haven. Truthfully - I supposed I barely remembered Cullen in those moments, beyond a voice feeding me numbers and educated opinions.

I blinked as the scene dissolved around us, and then a few steps in a seemingly-random direction brought us back to my chamber at Skyhold.

"There is - likely a reason you were blind to Cullen's regard," Solas said, his tone more conciliatory as he picked up the thread of our conversation. "The Dalish prohibit finding mates who are not elves - a reasonable path to discourage given the current realities of elven life. Your identity is heavily tied to yourself as an elf, and to elven history. You therefore don't look at humans - or dwarves, or Qunari - as potential romantic partners. Thus - it never occurred to you to wonder if the commander felt...differently."

"I suppose," I allowed, turning to face him. "Human men are also - I dislike the looming sense that one might crush me, just by falling on me. And though I know some of them are perfectly graceful, they just aren't - visually graceful." I freed my hand from his so I could put it against his cheek. "You are much more to my taste."

"I am pleased your tastes are so odd, then," he teased me lightly.

I let my hand drop. "They are not."

He laughed. "Vhenan, I am no particular judge of male beauty, but there is a reason Cullen's appearance in Halamshiral had the impact that it did. I meanwhile - " he bent and peered at me more closely. "I believe you might somehow be surprised to learn I am not a handsome man."

"Delavir. Ane gaelethe." I reached up and traced the line of his nose with one finger. "Though...I suppose perhaps you aren't precisely handsome. More - awe-inspiring. You know how I loved the garden at Skyhold? Like that."

He tilted his head in confusion, one eyebrow raised.

"The mountains were beautiful - and forbidding," I attempted to explain. "They loomed over the garden, harsh and implacable - and yet that little sheltered space bloomed with life." He still looked confused, and so I set my hand against his cheek again, and then traced the line of his cheekbone back to his ear. "Harsh, implacable planes and angles." My fingers followed his ear up to its tip, and then I traced its edge back down to where it met his jaw. "Overshadowing - but also sheltering - your gentler features." I touched his chin, traced his eyebrow, tugged him down nearer so that I could taste his lips. "Your face has the same balance as the garden, and I am - I can't tell you - I admire you more than I could ever express. You are my Skyhold. Do you really think Cullen's...cottage-garden prettiness compares to that?"

He exhaled a sharp laugh, and then captured my mouth, wrapping his arms around my waist and pinning me against him. All at once, he paused, his fingers plucking at the fabric on my back. "Off," he growled. "Clothing off. Now."

"Take it off yourself if you want it so - " I gasped as his skin suddenly came into contact with mine.

He chuckled into my ear at my reaction, and then began forcing me backwards. When I ran into my bed, he gave me a push so I fell back onto it, my hair floating around me and half-covering my face as I landed on the mattress. I lifted my hand to push it away, but Solas stopped me: "Wait. I wish to admire you for another moment. You look even more beautiful than I pictured."

In spite of his protest, his words prompted me to prop myself up on my elbow to look at him. "You were imagining me naked while you were brushing my hair," I concluded, laughing.

"It was worth imagining," he retorted. "You look...different - less like the Inquisitor, more like Silea - clad only in your hair. And...I enjoy new perspectives."

I laughed again as he climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over mine as I let myself drop back onto the mattress. "I hope, generally speaking, you don't enjoy them this much," I teased him, running my fingers down the evidence of just how much he enjoyed this particular perspective.

He sucked in a breath. "That...would make my occasional excursions to the libraries I can still access awkward," he panted as I continued to stroke. One of his hands captured mine, and he lifted it above my head, pinning my wrist to the bed. "Isalan na."

Sul'isalan na mala, I amended silently - but didn't say it, because I would take now if I couldn't have later. Instead I wrapped my legs around his hips and put off thinking of how bad tomorrow would be.

"Why does everything about us fit so perfectly?" I asked with a groan as he came to rest inside me. "Except - "

He cut me off with a kiss. I let him, refocusing on now. This was likely all we would ever have of each other, and I needed all of it - every touch, every breath, every glance, every half-delirious word.

In the wake of our mutual pleasure, everything - even grief - had a softer edge. When he began to say, "I will never tire of this," and then corrected himself halfway through, substituting would for will, I didn't even have to fight back tears.

"We still have a negotiation waiting," I reminded him several minutes later, pressing my face to his neck and breathing in his scent as we lay tangled together on the bed.

"You want to negotiate now?" he asked, sounding slightly dazed and very reluctant.

"Why not?" I asked. "We're about as clear-headed as we're likely to get."

"Da'din'sil'melana," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Is that a concept the Dalish have lost?"

"I...suppose so," I replied, trying to work out what he had said. Death - thought - season. No - mind - season? What did da mean in this context? Small? Short? The way new words were formed in Elven was often a game of allusions - lose the memory of one once-common metaphor and an entire limb of the language might be cut off.

"Merely an observation that one is more likely to think clearly after sexual release," he explained as though he could hear me trying to puzzle out the meaning. "It surprised me that you didn't reference it, before I remembered once again how much the Dalish never managed to reconstruct."

"Do you forget, sometimes, that I'm not from your time?" I wondered.

"Rarely," he replied. "You are so different from anyone I have ever met, I think you must be specific to this time and these circumstances. And yet - your desire to understand for the sake of understanding, rather than as a means to some other end, does remind me more of that earlier world." His voice became pensive. "There was more time for apathy and cruelty to grow to fruition over the course of a single life, then - but also more time to learn to love wisdom for its own sake."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I said: "I have thought of something I would trade for my own captivity."

"Captivity?" he repeated, recalled from his thoughts and clearly disliking the word.

"That's what it is, isn't it? You would hardly let me come and go as I pleased," I pointed out. "Nor, I expect, would you give me the power to do so. Your motives don't change the result."

"Very well, if you insist," he conceded, a hint of growl in his voice.

"If the, um, inor'alas'enaan are safe, why not open them to more refugees?" I asked. "Once the chaos has spent itself, surely the world will again be safe for more than just elves."

"Impractical," he responded swiftly. "How would they be fed? Though the inor'alas'enaan apparently have light, do you think that is a sun in the sky? That the ground you walk on is dirt? No - real things cannot take root or grow there, so the refugees would be unable to support themselves and would be dependent on food and water from the real world. Besides, humans fare poorly in that world, and I cannot say what would happen to them long-term."

"Oh," I said. I didn't know the Crossroads well enough to foresee logistical limitations of the sort he mentioned. "Well, in the first place, faring poorly still sounds like a better gamble than near-certain death. And - you mean to keep me alive for whatever period is necessary."

"You are one person," he retorted.

"All right - so you can provision me," I agreed. "What about two? Three? Ten? How many could you maintain through the years ahead?"

"A - few," he sighed.

"A lottery, then?" I proposed.

"And how do I know you wouldn't slip agents into the refugees?" he asked. "My people still need to use the inor'alas'enaan."

"Children," I suggested.

"And who would tend them?" he responded. "Old enough to care for themselves, and I can afford to trust them no more than I could an adult - too young to be a danger and they couldn't be trusted to care for themselves."

"You have people. Assign a few to help, as you must already be doing for the Dalish children," I argued.

He pressed his face to my hair. "I wouldn't dare depend on any of them," he admitted in a murmur. "Human children? I don't know who among my people might - take revenge for past wrongs."

I paused and realized he was right to worry. How many from my own clan would I trust for an extended period overseeing a group of human children? How many, even beginning with reasonably good intentions, wouldn't eventually start seeing in their faces all our children who had been lost over just their lifetimes - not to mention the prior millennia of human dominance? And my clan had always been relatively friendly toward humans.

Deshanna. The Keeper was the only one I would trust - and she remained steadfast in resisting Solas's intended methods.

"A fair point," I conceded sadly.

We were silent for a long moment as my mind raced, trying to find some other solution. Then he interrupted my thoughts with an offer of his own: "Perhaps...perhaps I might reunite you with Enansal."

Delavir. Ane gaelathe: Nonsense. You are perfect.

Isalan na: I need you

Sul'isalan na mala: I need you for now