Lathbora Viran
It wasn't just a dragon. Of course, it had to be a dragon that was highly resistant to electricity damage. Ennaly rolled out of the way of its breath attack and quickly jumped to her feet. The dragon started to buffet its wings, and Ennaly could feel herself getting pulled closer to danger, almost blinded by loose strands of hair whipping around her face. She was aware of wings getting closer and sharp claws reflecting in the sunlight, but no way to move. She had to duck or be mauled.
She could feel a rush of energy as someone grabbed her and moved her forward, only to let go of her again when they stood behind the dragon's wings, outside of the vortex of wind. Her skin tingled with the remnant of magic. Relieved and gasping for breath, she looked up to see Solas, who must have used his Fade step to get her out of the way. She really needed to learn how to do that, or live with the fact that more lightning-wielding foes would scar her.
Face set with concentration, Solas aimed his staff at the beast's massive leg and shot crackling ice at it. Seeing an opportunity, Cassandra rushed forward, slashing in on the weak spot. Roaring furiously, the dragon turned around and Ennaly had to duck out of the way for its tail.
They all had their fights, and this was not one of hers. She had other offensive abilities than just lightning, but they weren't as powerful and wouldn't harm as much. Instead, she resorted to protecting them all with barriers and shot fire around to distract the beast. If Ennaly couldn't do much damage to it, at least she could help her friends make the best out of theirs.
They had arrived in Crestwood with the sole intent of finding Stroud, but instead found themselves tied up in a horror of undead and a Fade rift underneath a lake. Knowing that only Ennaly was able to close the rifts, they promised to help out. The horror turned quite literal when they found the bodies in the flooded caves.
What would she have done, in the mayor's place? He tried to save the healthy citizens by keeping the sick ones away. His intentions might have been good, but Ennaly knew she would never have been able to knowingly drown the sick. If they were facing death anyway, there must have been a more humane way for them to go than leaving them to fend for themselves in the caves, clutched together as the lake water came rushing in.
What a terrible way to die.
And who would've thought that by draining the lake to close the rift, they had awoken a sleeping dragon. They could hardly leave the inhabitants scared and vulnerable to a new foe, so onwards they trod. It was the Dragon Age for sure, and as they stared at the beast in the distance, Ennaly could feel a tingle of sadness that they had to kill this magnificent creature.
But between kill and be killed, kill was preferable. They ran across the muddy grounds, slowly getting covered with muck, jumping out of the way of lightning and scaly limbs, and slowly but surely, wore the dragon down.
As it was screeching for breath, clutching its left front paw, Cassandra saw an entrance. She charged forward, and ducked under the paw to its neck, where the skin was softest. Yelling to gather strength, she raised her sword upwards and pierced its throat. Not losing a beat of momentum, she slashed forward, cutting into the neck several feet forward.
Bright red blood rained down over Cassandra as the dragon screeched louder. It released a final, nerve-shattering cry and crashed down in the mud with a wet squelch, the ground trembling under its weight.
Silence returned to the muddy ruins. Their own blood still running hot through their veins in the aftermath of the battle, they stared at each other. They were scattered on the battlefield, covered in mud, blood, cuts and Gods knows what else, but by their skills and their luck, they lived. In the catharsis of the moment, they all started laughing, breaking the silence.
"Cassandra Pentaghast, Dragonslayer," Varric narrated, his voice carrying over to all.
"A true Pentaghast!" Hawke grinned.
Cassandra smiled as she wiped the blood out of her eyes and they all gathered closer. "Thank the Maker we still live!"
They healed and cleaned up, and after that, they finalised their search for Stroud. With the six of them, they traversed what felt like half a world and back, travelling all the way via Skyhold to the blazing hot desert of the Western Approach. During their travels, they passed several ruins, and every now and again, Solas showed Ennaly the essence of those places in the Fade. She loved seeing these near-forgotten places restored to their former glory. It was a wonder to be able to run her hands over stones lost to memory, gaze at colours long faded, feel the touch of fabrics long since disintegrated or imagine the lives of the people that had lived there or built it.
"A cat must have scratched this doorpost!" she'd observe, running her fingers over lines in the wood. "A cook burned the pie. What a beautiful necklace to wear. Look at that painting, what a grumpy man! Imagine having to scrub all these floors."
Usually, Solas just observed her, listening to her ponderings, or indulging in her make-believe stories of the people that used to dwell there. Sometimes he could tell her stories of events he had learned on previous visits.
Ennaly grew to love the occasional night-time adventures more than their daily travels. She once longed to see the world, but sitting on horseback for hours at an end, or having to traverse a hot sandy desert, lost its charm after the first few days.
After facing Erimond in the Approach, they bade goodbye to both Hawke and Stroud. With six turned to four, they started their return to Skyhold with the knowledge that they would need to lay siege to Adamant.
The first night they camped after their split, they found a grassy patch near a small natural well flowing out into a small pond. Their emotional states had all taken a hit from their divide. It was clear that Varric missed his friend, but he wasn't the only one. Hawke had an innate skill that made long evenings short by engaging them all in either games, stories, or laughter. Without him, everybody was just silent and downcast, especially with the knowledge they had to travel all the way back at a later time with reinforcements.
After an hour of reading, Ennaly grew bored of her books about nobility. Sighing quietly, she looked around the campfire. Her companions were all doing exactly what she had expected: Solas sat in meditation, and Varric and Cassandra were both engrossed in books, Varric with writing, and Cassandra with reading.
The knowledge that the return to Skyhold meant the approach of this dreaded ball had been weighing on Ennaly. Even if they arrived in Skyhold without any holdups, there would be only two weeks before the date. And whatever was going to happen, she didn't want to be alone for it.
"If Josephine manages to get enough invitations, will you all join me at Halamshiral?" she asked.
The three of them looked up from their activities, surprised at the disturbance in the silence.
"Considering what is at stake, yes, I will join you," Cassandra said. "Though I am not looking forward to the event itself."
Ennaly smiled weakly, sympathising with the Seeker. "Same. I really don't look forward to playing dress-up. That white gown was terrible enough."
"I had assumed you would be more excited after you asked me to draw some designs," Solas remarked.
Surprised, Ennaly turned to him. It felt like a lifetime ago that she asked him to draw what the ancient Elves would wear to formal events. It had been before they ever kissed. "I didn't know you'd done that," she said. "I thought you'd forgotten. I nearly had."
"I said I would, did I not?" Solas noted with a small smile. "We did not remain at Skyhold long when we were there last. You were rather busy, so I handed them over to Josephine."
She should have known that he wouldn't forget. "Thank you, Solas. That does make it a lot better to look forward to."
"Don't let Sparkler hear you're taking fashion advice from Chuckles," Varric said.
Ennaly grinned. "Let us Elves wear what we want to wear. It's something to look forward to, at least." It certainly couldn't be worse than Human fashion. Her spirits lifted, she looked at the two men. "Will you join, too?"
"I cannot say the idea does not fascinate me," Solas pondered. That too, surprised Ennaly. Somehow, she had assumed he'd despise the very idea. Yet the word fascinate made her think of another time he had said that, when magic surged over her body. For a moment, she wondered if Solas meant that the ball would be fascinating, or the idea to see her in whatever dress he had sketched. He must have imagined her in whatever he had drawn, and potentially thought about what suited him best.
Well, she thought bitterly, after running his hands all over her body, at least he had a good sense of her figure.
Wanting to forget about it, she averted her eyes, but looked up when Varric spoke.
"And if anything, it will be a great source of inspiration for my next novels," he remarked. "What other chances do I have of observing a grand Orlesian ball?"
"Well, you can all join me then," she said with a smile. "Though I cannot deprive Dorian of the chance to finally experience another evening of finery. I hope we can get enough invitations. And if we do, don't think that Josephine will leave you alone. I'm sure she wants to force some smart outfit on everybody that joins."
"I have endured worse," Solas remarked.
Varric made a show of looking offended. "How will people recognise me if I have to hide my chest hair?"
Ennaly laughed. "Well, our non-Human-ness will betray us anywhere, I think. Imagine us, dancing at a ball. The nobles would lose it, don't you think?"
"You have to consider your mission," Solas said, but there was a faint smile on his lips. "You would hardly get any favours in court dancing with an Elven Apostate."
"Make that two Elven Apostates," she joked in reply. For a moment, she thought about how wonderful it would be to dance with Solas at court. But whatever image formed, she couldn't image him dressed up like a Human nobleman. Perhaps he would also wear something Elven?
"Your glowy hand and divine favour kind of give you a free pass," Varric said. "And I might have more grace than Hawke, but not by much. Seeker, it seems you are the one that fits in best, but looks forward to it least."
"What a wonder," Cassandra said dryly. "Don't forget that we are not there for our amusement."
"Right, right, the peace talks," Ennaly sighed bitterly. "Kind of ironic that they want to host the peace talks for the civil war in the place where it started. We have to prevent the Empress from being killed in Halamshiral while she had a thousand Elves killed in that very same place. That's the opposite of poetic."
A tense silence grew in the camp. Solas' brow furrowed but he kept looking at her. Varric, for once, appeared at a loss for words. Ennaly knew that he was once friends with a mage that cared for oppressed people, and well... They were still dealing with the aftermath of that. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she'd be anything like that.
She wished she hadn't said anything.
"My sincere apologies," Cassandra said, looking shocked. "I cannot imagine..."
Ennaly sighed and averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, I should not have started that. But don't worry, I'm not one for revenge, not like..." She thought of Anarel, and the children he had killed, and took a deep breath. "I regret the Empress' actions, but I understand what is necessary here. I have seen that future. The chaos that will erupt if Corypheus triumphs will affect more than just Elves. Trust me, I'd do anything to stop that from happening. I remember my promise when I was declared Inquisitor. I'll do it because it's right."
The awkward tension dissipated as they all moved again.
"Thank you," Cassandra said. "I admire your goals, despite the difficulties."
Ennaly glanced at her. "I know faith is important to you. You know I don't keep your Maker, but my Goddess..." She touched her Vallaslin, trying to ignore the scar that now ran through it. "Mythal is the Great Protector of the People. I try to lead the Inquisition the same way I would lead my clan. She greatly values justice and love, and that is kind of what we stand for, don't we? I just apply her teachings in a different way now."
"She sounds like a Goddess worthy of admiration," Cassandra said, just a little bit stiffly.
"I just hope she agrees with the choices I have made, so far."
"As I hope the Maker agrees with mine."
In that moment, her appreciation for the Seeker grew. They might not be too different, after all. They would never see eye to eye with their different beliefs, but at least they might respect the values they both held.
How much easier would it have been for the Inquisition if Cassandra had been the Inquisitor? She was everything you'd imagine when you thought of someone with that title, strong, blade-wielding, and devout to the Andrastian faith. She had even been the right hand of the Divine, and most of all, she was Human.
Ennaly opened her palm and stared at the Anchor, flickering a dull green. That small wound was the only reason she was in this position, and it was fooling to think anything else. A little deflated, she dropped her hand in her lap. "Let's first hope someone is willing to invite someone like me to the ball," she said timidly, lowering her head. "If only Humans were a little less prejudiced against Elves and mages."
A sudden hand appeared in front of her eyes and she followed it to find Solas standing in front of her. "I am both of those things, too," he said. "And I have little care for courtly etiquette. I would not mind some dancing."
Regarding his hand, she smiled softly, before turning her gaze upwards to the skies. "There is only one moon high in the sky," she joked, but took his hand to get to her feet. As soon as she stood, she pulled it back. His touch was different than that of Hawke, who she had danced with on multiple occasions. Even if they sometimes spent their dreams together, she had never actually touched in them.
That had only happened in that one fateful dream.
A dance would be too much. The thought of Solas' hands on her body might awaken the feeling she had been trying so hard to bury within her. Not wanting to show her inner turmoil, she turned around. "I don't think you can do the kind of dancing I'm in the mood for, though," she said. "It trains both magic and body..."
Carefully, she took a few steps to have enough space around her. She wasn't sure if she should do this, but they were the only four in any discernible distance. Leliana had been the only one to see her, months back in Haven.
It started by standing still. Focus on your surroundings, her Keeper always said. It was easy, here. The wind shifted the loose sand at the top of the dunes. Their campfire crackled merrily, the warmth radiating to where she stood. Varric sniffed, a few feet away. A lock of hair brushed over her forehead, gentle like a mother's kiss.
The next step was to reach within herself, to the knot between her breasts, and pull outwards. How many times had she done this before?
Feeling one with her surroundings, she opened her eyes. With her thumb and forefinger pressed together, she drew forth small threads of lightning from the Fade. It was nothing offensive, nothing too flashy, just faintly glowing purple lines of humming and buzzing energy. It hung in the air in front of her, lazily suspended, awaiting her command.
She couldn't help but smile. It had taken her years to gain mastery over this. It wasn't confidence as much as it was instinct, the way she moved her fingers. At her control, the frequency of the humming changed, slowly moving the thread of energy like a ripple in water. It made a pure, clean note. Then, she drew another line, and one more, all humming to a different note, creating a pleasant joyful tune. It was soft, a mere whisper, but it carried to all sitting around the campfire, just audible above the crackling of the flames.
She took a few steps. With a wave of her hand, the ringing threads of energy moved alongside her, and as she spun, they trailed like ribbons around her, softly illuminating her dancing figure. It was a perfect harmony, the ribbons of light matching the speed of her feet, the graceful movement of her arms arcing above her head.
Deeming it enough, she halted. The tune paused, causing almost all sounds to hush in anticipation. The strings lingered in the air, but without her command, they fell like droplets of rain, disappearing before they hit the ground.
"It took me months to create a single stable tune," she said quietly. "It's probably not the way they teach you to master your magic in a Circle, but really, what better way is there?"
Cassandra just looked at her, not quite sure if she needed to be impressed or disapproved.
"I have never seen Daisy do that," Varric said with amazement.
"Different clans have different ways," Ennaly replied. "This is simply what my Keeper taught me."
"I did not know you could do that," Solas said. His gaze was a lot different to Varric and Cassandra's, filled with disbelieving wonder.
Ennaly shrugged, trying to shake away his captivating gaze. "I usually don't let people see me doing this. Most people don't like obvious displays of magic."
"That is how the ancient Elves would sometimes weave spells," Solas continued. "A dance, or a spell, could last for weeks, but as opposed to merely creating tunes, the vibrations could shape a mountain or re-route a river. Sometimes multiple Elves would come together to weave their magic together and alter a landscape. It must have been beautiful."
It conjured wonderful images in her mind, Elves dancing, clad in wisps of incandescent fabrics, dancing in a valley to create a waterfall. The Dalish might try so hard to remember, but they couldn't even understand all the marvels that were lost to time.
Like a shadow, Ennaly could feel sorrow overtaking her. "Lathbora viran," she said mournfully.
"What now?" Varric asked.
"It's Elven. Roughly translates to yearn for something one can never really know," Ennaly said. "I can never truly know how my ancestors practised magic. It just sounds so beautiful."
"And now you've just made us all sad, Chuckles," Varric said looking at Solas.
"It's okay," Ennaly said with a small smile. "Being sad isn't always bad. Besides..."
She wanted to claim that Solas couldn't do this dancing anyway, so she would practise on her own, when she saw him holding out his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, he pulled a green-blue tinted string of energy from the Fade, orchestrating it to a tune.
Ennaly wasn't sure if she was annoyed or awed. There hardly seemed to be any magic that she could perform that he could not, but she had expected that this was one of them.
"Are you sure that this is safe?" Cassandra said apprehensively.
Solas turned to her, and magic fell away. "Seeker, you train your sword hand to keep in shape. We mages need to train our magic, too. But, to preserve your comfort, we can move elsewhere."
Cassandra couldn't find anything to remark about that. Ennaly realised she had not actually agreed to let Solas join her in her dance, yet still found her feet following him towards the other side of the little pond.
"It is astonishing to see you practising such old magics," he said as they walked. "I have seen you dancing with snowflakes, but I was unaware you mastered this magic."
She glanced aside. "It's just a trick, isn't it?" she said softly. "It doesn't really do anything, it's just for practising focus. I can't move a mountain."
He glanced back with reverence in his eyes and a smile on his lips. "It is comforting to see that something is still left."
"You can do this, too," she stated.
"Yes, but I have... seen this before."
Ennaly looked away. "In the Fade, yes, I know. But I am Dalish, am I not? We're not all spiteful like Anarel's clan." She didn't want to think about him and his rough manners. "And it's not like he could do this anyway."
"He did not seem the type to appreciate the natural beauty of the world around him," Solas said with a soft chuckle.
"Who knows. Perhaps our fight has had an impact on him."
Solas almost smirked. "Remember everything you said to him? You were standing between the statues of your Gods. Perhaps one of them listened and gave him further recompense."
"He'd deserve it," Ennaly said quietly, looking out over the little pond. The reflection of the campfire on the other side made it seem aflame. "I wish you could meet my clan. I believe we have something worth honouring. We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit. I have not forgotten those words. We do try and preserve the memories of the ancient ways. This magic is just one of those things."
The look in Solas' eyes was raw and sincere, as he listened to her words. "Perhaps I have misjudged them," he spoke.
"Perhaps you have."
He looked out over the pond too, at the rippling reflection, before he turned back to Ennaly. Between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled a strand of blue and green energy from the Fade. He moved his finger to make the string vibrate, making a clear note. Then, with a wave of his hand, the string twisted like a ribbon and enveloped them both, twisting around them.
The swirling ribbon of light glittered in his eyes as he looked at her. The gentle light cast everything beyond it in darkness, as if the world started and ended with the two of them.
"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered.
She might have never shared this dance of magic with anyone, but she had no doubt that she could. It wasn't a physical inability, but rather that this moment felt intimate. She could almost feel the emotion in the ribbon that spun around them, something soft and hopeful, but mournful.
Her heart skipped a beat as she took a step closer to Solas. Her breath held, she placed a hand on his chest. The soft material of his tunic was warm, and she tried to repress the memory of warm breath on her neck. She exhaled again and watched her own hand spread her fingers. "You know what I mean," she muttered, looking up.
A few heartbeats later, he took the hand from his chest in his. He moved around, making a few dancing steps. Ennaly followed him out of intuition, and Solas lifted their hands high, making her spin a circle under it. The ribbon of energy followed their every move.
"This is just a dance," he said with a smile.
Ennaly laughed softly. "Just a dance," she repeated.
She could do just a dance.
Standing back-to-back, they called forth multiple strands of energy, which joined the strand already enveloping them. It had something intimate, something teasing, how the strings danced around each other to their own frequency, slowly harmonizing to a beautiful rhythm. Purple and blue-green mixed together, her tones filled with joy, compassion and longing, while Solas' tones carried dignity, sorrow and hope.
Without saying anything more, Solas extended his hand and Ennaly took it. Where they touched, the energy that surrounded them tingled like a gentle caress on her skin. Solas led them to a dance, guided by soft music of their own creation, a reflection of their souls. Like their dance in the Frostbacks, this dance was nothing learned, but instead guided by intuition. It felt primal, like something in her soul just understood how her body should move, and this was all that mattered. In this moment there was no concept of time, and it could last an eternity. She felt so in tune with the world that the mana it took her to sustain the ribbons of music was naturally replenished by the ambient magic from the Veil. For a moment, she could truly understand how the ancient Elves were able to sustain this for months at a time, immortal as they were.
"You are crying," Solas' voice sounded, strange among the music.
Was she?
He pulled a hand free from hers and only when he ran his thumb over her cheek to wipe away a tear, did she notice he was right. It took her by surprise, and she lost her concentration on the tunes. Without her active control, the purple ribbons dripped away to starlight. As natural as magic was to her, nature didn't hesitate to take it back.
Tears hung from her lashes as she looked up at Solas with glistening eyes. "We try to remember, but so much is lost. Who are we kidding? We cannot shape a mountain."
Ennaly couldn't quite keep looking at Solas' sorrowful expression and cast her eyes downwards, listening to the tunes around them. Her magic had faded, but his tunes still lingered in the air. "And it's your music. It is beautiful, but so sorrowful. You carry so much sadness."
"I am sorry," he said softly. "I did not intend it like that."
But his tone carried the same sorrow as his music. "It's okay," she replied, glancing up again. "You don't have to carry that sadness by yourself. I'm not Cole, I cannot take it away. But I don't mind sharing a bit."
His eyes burned with a tenderness that made Ennaly's heart ache. "I do not intend to burden you with my sorrow."
"But why do you feel –" Ennaly started, before a yelp escaped her mouth.
Before she could finish speaking, Solas changed his tune to something quick and happy. "Keep up, Ennaly," he called as he twirled her around.
And for the next countless of heartbeats, they danced close together, spinning and laughing and getting out of breath by the exercise. But no matter the exertion, Solas kept control over his magic. Ennaly appreciated it only faintly, for the magic in his touch kept her attention more than the magic in the air.
But nothing was meant to last forever, and eventually, their spin slowed down as their breath ran out. But even after Solas' tune faded away, they didn't let go of each other. The only illumination left in the area was the soft glow of the waning moon and the light from the campfire ahead.
Feeling in control of her breath again, Ennaly looked up. Used to the darkness, she could see the outline of her own reflection in Solas' eyes. "This was fun," she stated. "Thank you."
And against her better judgement, she closed her eyes and rested her head against Solas' chest. It was softly rising and falling in rhythm to his breathing, soft and relaxing. It wasn't long before she realised it was the same rhythm as her own. This dance had brought them more in tune than she felt before. Was this what harmony felt like?
He didn't protest to her closeness. Still softly panting, Solas wrapped his second hand around her, joining the other that remained there from their dancing. He must be looking down, for she could feel his breath misting against her skin. It was so long since Ennaly forgot to be afraid of anything.
After several moments of peaceful serenity, Solas moved one of his hands upwards, softly trailing her spine, before it came to rest on the nape of her neck. It was a gentle touch, but so much more intimate than any dance.
Ennaly's breath shuddered. "You said this was just a dance," she said quietly.
"I know," he replied, his voice a silent whisper.
Fear entered Ennaly's heart again, but it took the shape of hope. "Do you want it to be more?" she asked expectantly, glancing up at him.
He kept her gaze, not moving and not speaking. Ennaly thought he wouldn't answer her and instead, this moment would last forever. It could have, she thought. Slowly, he moved the hand from her neck to her cheek. Ennaly's breath halted as she found herself getting lost in his eyes. They usually were a mask of sorrow, but now there was so much more nuanced emotion in them. Pain, longing...
His gaze shifted over her features. Why was he able to make her feel so beautiful?
And all of a sudden, the tenderness in his gaze turned dull. Gently, but all too quickly, he pulled his hand away from her cheek and averted his eyes. "I apologise," he said stoically. "It would be kinder in the long run."
Ennaly's hope shattered to pieces. "Then this should have been just a dance," she bit, barely disguising the hurt in her voice. And if this hope was a lie, she didn't want his proximity. She took a sharp step backwards, shaking off his hand from her waist. "If you ever hold me like this again, make sure you want it."
She shot him a final look. He had no right to display pain on his face, since he was the one rejecting her. Angry and hurt, she spun around, but not before Solas reached out towards her. Not wanting to feel his touch on her or hear another apology, she pulled her hand back before his fingers could enclose hers. "This evening is over," she declared, and started to make her way back to camp.
The tunes likely hadn't been loud enough to reach back to the camp, but the light they emitted would be, reflecting in the pond. Shielding her feelings, she conjured a smile so Varric and Cassandra wouldn't notice something was amiss. Perhaps she could bluff, after all. Solas followed her in silence, just two steps behind. She didn't know what the others had seen, but thankfully, Solas' embrace had been in approximate darkness.
"We have the answer at last," she said when they entered the range of the firelight, her voice radiating a joy she did not feel. "He might be the better mage, but I am the better dancer." It wasn't true, technically, but she wanted to say something.
"Do you agree with that assessment?" Varric grinned at Solas, oblivious to what had just happened.
"She speaks the truth," Solas replied impassively.
"If only Sparkler was here," Varric continued, holding a feather pen. "Elves dancing in the moonlight, he would be beside himself with glee. Now, what was that Elven phrase again?"
"Are you making notes?" Ennaly asked, observing the Dwarf.
"Of course," Varric said. "Ennalath and Solith just spend a month together in a dance to create their perfect idyllic mountain valley. They don't yet know of the horror that is coming, but at this moment they are perfectly happy together."
"Really, Varric, Ennalath?" Ennaly asked, shielding the hurt she felt behind an unimpressed expression.
"You're just good inspiration, don't take it personally," he continued. "Someone could never get closer to experiencing some ancient Elven magic than whatever that dance you did was. You got all glowy and Elfy near that pond. I swear, the Seeker almost had to wipe away a tear."
"I did not!" Cassandra exclaimed, affronted, and put her book down.
"Now, what's that phrase?" Varric continued, ignoring her.
"Lathbora viran," Solas provided, his voice still devoid of emotion. To yearn for something one can never really know.
"Thanks, Chuckles."