DA'ENASAL

Solival smiled nervously, shrinking a little into his shoulders. 

“If I never master that one, I think I’ll be okay, but if you ever did want to learn, I could help.”

Solival teaching Solas anything. Now there was an image. 

“I would not mind learning.” He reaches for another roll, biting into and chewing thoughtfully. “If I am to have access to an oven, it would be a waste to not learn how to use it properly.”

                                                    when not on the battlements one can find the warden in the garden, the flowers are her weak spot. they remind her of a life that might as well have been in another world altogether. this vulnerability is one seldom witness, and even fewer would be so bold as to dare interrupt. all the same her concentration is broken, as is her gaze on the crystal grace before her.     ❛ you needed something? ❜ // @snailprince: sc.

snailprince:

The last time he met Fenris, it was like the warrior was a different person. Guarded, to be sure, but never so unkind or unsympathetic. If he truly didn’t care for Solival’s well-being, he would have thrown the mage to his captors and fled at the first chance. No, Fenris was better than that. There was good inside of him. Solival had to believe that. The alternative was unthinkable. 

What changed?

Solival flinched at the finality, the uncompromising venom in Fenris’ voice. He averted his eyes quickly, staring at his wound and picking nervously at the dressing. 

“You’re right.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “But if I hadn’t–the arrow would’ve–” 

It was too terrible a possibility to speak aloud. 

The furrow between his brows deepened as he watched the other elf shrink from him, heard the halting disbelief in his tone. He… didn’t want to be the cause of Solival’s dismay. Whatever else he felt, or didn’t feel, that certainty grew within him as he watched the healer fuss with the bandage on his arm, aware with a sudden unfamiliar discomfort that it was there because of him.

“I don’t…” Falling silent, Fenris attempted to gather the words that would convey his regret, but they refused to allow it, restrained by the knot of bitterness and grief that had lodged itself in his chest since he had lost the one who held his heart. 

He couldn’t admit to it. Though it was likely not widely known, Fenris considered himself a man of faith, a man of ideals. A slave had little other personal currency, and he had clung to those tenets when he had literally nothing else, not even the flesh he wore. That he would ignore them now, that he would seek his own death, even by another’s hand… it was a worse betrayal than even his sister could have offered.

He had betrayed himself. And yet, he knew he would not stop. Perhaps he couldn’t.

“I apologize.” Fenris finally managed, his voice stilted and rough. “I did not intend for you to be harmed in my stead.”

snailprince:

The initial shock wore away to outrage. He’d expected trepidation, even doubt, but never this. Was this a test? He balled up his fists. They don’t need me, he wanted to say, but fell short. They’re better off without me. 

“You’d rather be with your clan; I see that now. But I didn’t give you your mark,” he said, self-righteous tears in his eyes, “so don’t take it out on me!”

She draws up short, fists balled at her sides, blinking like he may as well have just slapped her. She stares at him—and then the anger surges, hot and fast and maybe, just maybe, defensive.

“This is not about me,” she snaps, jabbing a finger at him. She will not allow herself to be moved by hot-headed tears. Or a jab that hits a little too close to the heart of her. “You left them, deliberately. Why?”

snailprince:

The comment comes down hard and fast. Solival blinks, his throat tightening immediately. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t–

“It’s our world too, isn’t it?” Instead of tears, he sets his jaw. “I’m tired of running and hiding from our problems.” 

Stubborn boy. “Your problems ought be broken bones and bruised knees, fevered children in need of a healer to help them survive the winter. I am not here on some mission to prove that I can face the whole world’s troubles with a brave face—I’m here because I have to be. Because of this,” she says, and she raises her left hand, the light of the anchor flaring faintly. 

“You, on the other hand, have no such obligations. You are your clan’s First. They need you.”

“I have a hard time imagining you being bad at anything,” Solival admitted. “You’re stubborn enough that you would try until you perfected it.” 

He chewed on a piece of bread almost absent-mindedly, before his own implications dawned on him and his ears flattened in embarrassment.

“It’s a compliment!” He added quickly. “I wish I was so determined.” 

“Ah, the keyword there is ‘try.’”

There had always been other things to do with his time: paintings, sculpting, exploring. Baking was a process where the journey was tedious, even if the destination was sweet.

He laughs. “You will have to try harder than that to insult me.”

@snailprince liked for a starter !!

“You’ve come an awful long way by yourself. You should’ve stayed with your clan.”

“Mhmm!” He answered through a mouthful of bread. He almost said more, but thought better of it, and swallowed. 

“Feeding people is the quickest way to make friends.” His smile turned sheepish. “Although, sometimes the cooks kick me out of the kitchen for sampling too many sweets.” 

“Only if you have any skill,” he adds. “I’ve spent most of my life subsisting on food cooked on campfires, my baking leaves something to be desired.”

He breaks off a piece of the roll’s crust and guts the inside, eating that before he begins nibbling on the outside. “It’s very good, and came at just the right time. Ma serannas.”