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[troubleyan]

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[dirth]

[ Watching her, Solas feels an echo of the power and control he once had, stripped from him in his long sleep and with the loss of his orb. He is not the man he had been those many years before, but he still has enough to earn her desire, her want - and perhaps that is enough, for now.

He can remember the weight of her in his lap, the taste of her skin and how wet she was for him, the way he could mould her under his touch. He can remember the want that she felt and how heady it was, to give it to her without hesitation.

Again, he doesn't kiss her, resisting the temptation of it, but he is smiling all the same. Smiling for her. ]

I do. I will see you try... Later. You have a report to make, and then we will see if you have earned me in this time, too.

[troubleyan]

[She doesn't notice how heavily the body yearns until she feels her fists relax when he draws slightly back; she's dug her nails into her palms in anticipation of a kiss, something feral and deep, the way Fen'Harel would - why tell her that his talents have grown further since she returned to her time if not to make her wild with imagining in what way?

She lets out a soft hiss, and jerks her head towards him, her eyes narrowing.] You're such a teasing, arrogant arse... [And she expects to get in trouble for that offense, maybe, but sounds fond the way she says it. Maybe because her eyes are glittering with some form of mischief.

Old god of trickery, wasn't he?

The humour cools off, and she takes a step away from him. With all the haughtiness of a well-bred lady, she flicks her long braid over her shoulder so it hangs down her back.]

Take advantage of this time to figure out what it is you want from me, Fen'Harel, because I do not play to pass time.

[She steps past him, swift as an arrow, and darts into the grand hall, leaving Solas with his thoughts.

The length of her hair will be a way to measure how long she spent in his past, the brain reaching the small of her back now when she'd had her hair cropped closer to her chin before. More details for the report she'll write for her advisors.

It takes four marks on her candle to finish writing. She slips into her empty quarters, get her own fire running, and puts quill to paper through the night. By the time the sun rises over the Frostback Mountains, Evelyn Trevelyan is spotted stepping into Josephine's office to cause great surprise.

It takes the full half morning for her to bring her advisors up to speed - and for them to update her on what she's missed, too - followed by food and an individual checking in with each of her companions. She leaves Solas for last, with nervous trepidation.

It's almost night again by the time she steps into his rotunda. She has since bathed and changed back into her Inquisition garments, a blue jacket and soft trousers that she usually wears in Skyhold. Her hair has been rebraided, worked around her head like a little coronet, pinned into place by one of the servants that insisted on assisting her with her midday bath.

She's still nervous, but for different reasons. When she steps into his space, it's her face she sees in the murals he's been painting, her achievements and her battles, and she feels her mouth dry. How has he felt about her, before this whole time travel thing - did she cause this, or was it there before? Admiration, obsession - what was it? What is it now?

And Solas, look at him now. Tall and carrying himself with that regal arrogance that had always baffled all the noble pricks in Halamshiral, in Skyhold. She gets lost in the angles of his profile, in the width of his shoulders, in the distracting sight of his fingers holding a brush so full of certainty. So capable.

Oh no.]

Is this a bad time?

[dirth]

[ Solas allows her to leave, to let her words hang between them as she disappears to do what she must - to write her report, to catch up with her advisors, to allow them to know that she has returned. He will not get in the way of that, not when he has enough things to think over and fill his mind with, not when he has to allow himself to consider what is ahead for them both now.

The hours give him time to sort through the memories that have awoken inside of him, as if they were always there but laying dormant until the moment she truly travelled through time. They're fresh, but with that ache of time having numbed them; he can feel the taste of her mouth against his own, but like the feeling of having the favourite food from years before.

Drifting in his thoughts, he might not have noticed her arrival if he was not so primed for it, the day passing them by with nothing changed between him and the rest of Skyhold. She has not told anyone, then, and perhaps her report to the advisors will dance around the issue of his connection to Fen'Harel. If he was going to have to flee and remake his plans then he would prefer to have some kind of warning, but it does not seem as though she intends to ruin him any time soon.

Tilting his head, he watches her as she enters, closing the book he had in front of him. More incorrect knowledge about the Fade, so a rather irritating read. ]

Not at all, Inquisitor. How might I be of assistance?

[troubleyan]

[It's because sound carries up, and the rotunda gives way to the library, the rookery, she tells herself.

So they have to be careful with their words, because Evelyn has not detailed the connection between Solas and Fen'Harel. Worse yet: she has not mentioned Fen'Harel at all in her reports.

She holds her hands together behind her, and walks towards him.] I heard from my advisers that you lingered in Dirthamen's temple for days trying to find me in the Fade. I wanted to thank you for such concern...

[She raises her marked hand, waves it - concern for his orb, for his power, she knows.] For my wellbeing.

[dirth]

[ Even if they were alone here, Solas might well be careful; this is not the privacy of a bedroom, where a barrier might be erected to keep their whispers private. Anyone could be listening to the careful dialogue that they're sharing, and he does not intend to allow anything to get them into further trouble.

His eyes drink her in, searching, devouring; he knows the nakedness of her skin now, knows how she looks bared and filled with desire, and the memory is haunting. ]

I was doing what I could to return you to Skyhold. It was... Necessary.

[ He shakes his head, glancing away, suddenly oddly shy. ]

Your wellbeing is important to us all.

[troubleyan]

[Maker's breath, the way he's looking at her. It makes her mouth go dry, her stomach flutter. Her voice cracks a bit:] Well, here I am. Back again - at last.

[As if he didn't find her first last night. She licks her lips around the lie and looks around the room.] It might be difficult to include the experience on your murals...

[dirth]

We are all glad to see you returned.

[ Some more than others, surely, but he's got no reason to say it aloud. He watches her again, hesitating before he nods. ]

I am trying to include things that happened in the present, but if you would like to discuss your ventures in the past then I can offer my company.

[troubleyan]

[An opening, there it is. He told her to visit him later, but perhaps it should've been the other way around.

Had she been a mage, maybe she would've found him in the Fade.]

Your company would be appreciated, Solas. I took notes of the magical artefacts I saw, I think you might want to look over them - they're in my quarters now.

[dirth]

Very well.

[ He is giving her an in, and that might have to be enough for now. He steps away from his desk and chair and motions for her to begin to move. ]

Lead the way, please.

[troubleyan]

[She leads the way. This evening, the fireplace in her quarters has been turned on before her arrival, and someone (who really deserves praise and a raise) has brought up a tray of grapes, bread, cheeses and dry meats in case the Inquisitor gets peckish.

She has not checked yet, but she's sure that her storage room still hides all those bottles she's found across Ferelden, full of different vintages.

The grand doors that lead up to the balcony are blessedly shut.

Still, as she leads up up to her quarters after locking the door behind them, she realises she's never had him in her quarters before.

And, also, that these used to be his quarters.]

Must be strange to see us all making ourselves at home in your old castle, changing what the rooms used to be - was this an outpost once? Not your bedroom, I don't think - I mean, I might have gotten a bit turned around, but I recall climbing up even more steps, and a whole other view of the mountains from that room - or are we not talking about it out loud now either?

[dirth]

It's not as strange as you might think.

[ Solas follows after her without pause, making his way up the winding staircase to her chamber. He doesn't even consider how odd it might seem to some of their fellows, for him to suddenly be perfectly okay with entering her private space when before he had been a little more... Distant.

It comes hand in hand with having fucked her, he supposes, even if that was centuries ago.

Hovering by the door, he sighs softly. ]

I am glad to see it filled with people again, after all that happened. Things change, over time, and so do the rooms in this place. I am sure someone remodelled it.

[troubleyan]

[She needs a lot of effort to not fidget. See, she wants to appear cool, and level-headed, and not like the woman who cried out for him like a wreck, as the portal claimed her and returned her back to this time. Her time.]

Castles aren't the only things here that tend to change. [A brief pause. She gestures between the two of them.]

I mean that people do also. [And then there is silence, as she struggles to ask if his memories of her are new or if they have always been there, if they were inevitable.]

[dirth]

Do you think I would've been able to treat you as I did if I had remembered?

[ Darling, your thoughts are a touch too obvious, and he steps closer, leaning against the nearby wall. ]

My memories awoke when you returned. Not before.

[troubleyan]

[Solas and his fucking wall leaning. She swallows around a knot in her throat and walking back over to him.]

Treat me as you did? Meaning, what - distant, cautious, and reluctantly amused whenever I surprised you?

[dirth]

That is my natural state of being.

[ One has to protect oneself, after all, when you're literally the devil in Dalish lore. ]

[troubleyan]

And the awoken memories, what are they like? [She is curious, you see. He would understand curiosity.] How fast did you get them? Did they begin while I was still in the past with you, or was it only when I got back?

[dirth]

It was like a flash, at first, and then a little like remembering a dream you'd forgotten.

[ A sigh. ]

It was as soon as you returned. The cycle was completed.

[troubleyan]

[Her gaze drops to the necklace she almost yanked off him in some form of fury yesterday, and she feels another pang of longing. He's the same person - Fen'Harel, Solas, Dreadwolf, they're all the same elf - but it feels like she is meeting him all over again while missing him.]

The hardest thing was to not reveal too much. Time travel is fucked up enough as it is, but I went so far back that I had a fear of telling you something on accident which would change the course of history completely. I know, it's rather foolish of me to think myself that important to the course of history but...

[She pulls a face, sighs.

The second hardest thing was trying to keep them separate, trying not to let it show that she knew him in her present. Trying to forget all the complex feelings she felt for Solas even before meeting his younger self -

But to speak of that would mean to acknowledge those feelings existed. So instead, she says very seriously:] The second hardest thing was to look at all that hair, Solas. Your beautiful hair.

[dirth]

[ Solas is who he is and who he has always been, but there's no denying that he was changed by the experience of his losses. He was wounded, physically and emotionally, and there was no way to go back from that, not really. He cannot recover and be the man that she clearly misses.

It's a shame, but not one that he will feel much guilt over. ]

I recall him recognising some things - the Anchor being one - but that was not something that I could explain. You were something of a conundrum.

[ But then she continues, and Solas pauses for a moment before he heaves a little sigh. ]

Having hair like that was far too conspicuous.

[troubleyan]

I'll somehow have to live with that loss. [She says it with some humour, as if trying to ease the tension with a joke will work.

A sigh follows, a short moment later.]

You said I could visit you later, Solas. Here I am. Now what?

[dirth]

[ Solas has lost a little bit of his bluster in the meantime, and he's almost shy again. Alas. ]

That depends entirely upon your preferences, doesn't it?

[ As in - he is willing to fuck her, but does she want any kind of relationship with him now? ]

[troubleyan]

[It would be a mistake to fall into bed with him again, to use him again just because she realises she's been used. She's already been more than reproachable with what she did in the past.

So here they are, both of them suddenly shy.]

I ... You know, it's funny. Before, I would have said I would take anything you were willing to give me, and then I did. And suddenly, it's not enough in small measures anymore. I truly -

[She stops short, sucks in a shaky breath and looks away. Towards the windows. Towards the mountains.]

I know that we both worked to restoring me to this time, the right time, and I know that if I'd stayed I likely would have died - and hell, Thedas would be doomed, wouldn't it? Because of this thing. [She gestures with her marked hand, the green light slashing across it almost on cue.

She's going somewhere with this, but speaking the words is hard. She can't disguise the wounded expression, the yearning, when she finally looks at him again.]

It hurt to leave.

[dirth]

[ Solas can almost unpick what is going on in her mind through the way she looks at him - searching for some trace of the man he had once been, he thinks. It leaves him feeling a little aching inside, because he sometimes wishes he could be that carefree again, not burdened by the weight of his knowledge.

Shaking his head, he frowns. ]

He cared for you, in his way. He - I - was not adept at showing those kinds of things, nor would he have ever dared to. It would be dangerous.

[ Especially with the civil war so painfully close. ]

But you were not forgotten.

[ Wait until she sees some of the murals around the older elvhen temples. ]

[troubleyan]

[She feels it like a fist squeezing her heart. She was not forgotten.

That's almost worse. She has pieced things together, clever as she is. She remembers the Evanuris, she remembers Fen'Harel's existing rivalry, his apprehension. Given that they are now the Elven pantheon, their Creators, she has to wonder how it all got blown to pieces, Dreadwolf at the epicentre of it.

But she can't waste her time mourning an elf when he stands before her. Solas might refer to his young self as a separate entity, but Evelyn no longer can. She sees him in every gesture.]

I'm not here to chase a fantasy with the man you were, Solas. I know you've changed - I knew you'd change, remember? I'm -

[She lets her gaze find his, tries to keep it steady.]

I know, you'll have your plans. I'm hoping that maybe, with time, you'll share them and let me share your load - and if you should have a need for it, and you'll have my heart.

[dirth]

[ Fen'Harel had liked her, enjoyed her, wanted to keep her for longer - Solas could feel that longing inside of him, an echo of what his past self had demanded and wanted. The urge to reach out for her and touch her is almost painful, but he won't make any risks, not unless this is something she still wants. He isn't that man any longer; he is damaged, hurt, tired. Worn down by time and strife.

Perhaps she would only be with him in order to chase some echo of Fen'Harel, the man she truly cared for. He is a replacement for that.

Even when she says words otherwise... He isn't sure how much he can believe her. ]

I recall. You are difficult to forget, once remembered.

[ Haltingly, he breathes out, and then he reaches to offer her his hand. ]

Da'len.