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A Series of Colors
As told in the perspective of Solas
Purple like the robes of royalty, commanding as she stands before her people and rules with an iron fist, regal and bold. Her voice ripples with power, and they heed her.
Purple like the amethyst we pass by in our travels, and she stops to pick one up that others overlook. When she thinks she is not being watched, she tucks it into her pack to keep for later.
Purple like the violets she picks in valleys we pass through, bouquets lining her windowsill at Skyhold. They soak into her skin, and she smells sweet for days.
Purple like the dress draped around her skin at the Winter Palace. The color makes her eyes bold, and it makes my knees weak. When she turns to me and asks me how she looks, I have to pretend that she looks no different than before.
Purple like the bruises littering her skin like patchwork, and she grins like she owns the world after each battle. Though she is sometimes reckless, she makes every punch count.
Purple like the scales of a dragon felled beneath her blades, and she stands over the majestic body of the creature and mourns the sudden and brutal end to such unbridled power. Her honor and her regret make me love her all the more.
Purple like the leaves as they change in autumn, time passing ever onward as she spends each night in my bed, curled against my side. This cannot last, but I hold all the tighter to her while keeping this knowledge to myself.
Purple like the tips of the Blood Lotus petals that the wind swirls around her feet as we walk through Crestwood. The end is coming, and she does not yet know. I swallow thickly and prepare for my own heartbreak.
Purple like the shadows under her eyes each morning as nightmares plague her dreams. I would comfort her, but I am part of the reason she can no longer sleep at ease.
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