open rp post

[troubleyan]

🏹 texts/epistolary 🏹 prompts 🏹 ota*

* pssst if we've threaded together on bakerstreet, consider this an open invite

Comments

[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.

[troubleyan]

[Having him call her that again sends a shiver down her spine, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. He's still the one she wants. She wanted him before she travelled into the past to meet his young self, she wanted Fen'Harel because of who he'd grow up to be, and now that Solas is holding out his hand for her -

She takes the first step. She takes his hand, stepping close enough that her chest is a whisper's breadth away from his. Her fingers thread between his, and with her free hand she cups his jaw and leans in - tipping her chin up, because he's still fucking tall - and kisses him.

The first step.]

[dirth]

[ Solas draws her closer, lets her come closer to her, wanting her in a way he can't describe. It would be easier if he let this fade into nothing, fizzle away into the depths of all his other griefs and sorrows, but he can't do that. She changed things, and he wants her, so much.

Leaning down, he returns the kiss, one arm wrapping around her waist to pull her tight against her body. It's instinct to deepen it immediately, to chase the test of her mouth; it feels both like it was yesterday that he last kissed her, but also centuries ago.

Time is a funny thing. ]

[troubleyan]

[There are things that remain similar, nevertheless. He tastes the same (she immediately wants to put her mouth in other places and see if he tastes the same everywhere), and his lips are unchanged. The way arousal gets immediately amplified, intertwined with desire and longing, that's the same too - she lets out a whimper against his lips and responds to the kiss, returning it with a feral sort of need.

And some things, the body remembers. Her hand has already climbed up to cup the back of his skull, the other has a messy grip of the front of his robes.

She loses her breath first, breaking the kiss only a few inches apart to gasp air in, her eyes still closed.]

Oh, Maker, Solas...

[dirth]

[ Solas remembers what she likes, even if he thinks he himself has never experienced it; he draws her closer, pulls her into his arms, wants to devour her and wants to claim her - she is beautiful, and alluring, and Solas wants more than he is sure he could admit to. It is dangerous, but...

As soon as the kiss breaks, his mouth is tracing along the shape of her jaw, humming against her skin as he breathes out gently. ]

Anything. I will give you anything.

[troubleyan]

[With a quiet gasp, her head falls back, her throat bared for him to kiss. She's distantly aware that time travel makes everything more fucked up, but that's not the point here.

The point is that she wants to burrow under Solas' skin and haunt his dreams the way he haunts hers. The point is that this taste won't ever be enough.

And now he's offering her anything. A needy whine escapes her back of her throat, her short nails pressed against the skin of his scalp briefly.]

I'll be greedy. I am greedy - I want everything.

[dirth]

[ The instinct to bite her, to mark her and claim her is utterly overwhelming, but the reality is that he can't, not here in this version of their world. She is too public, too easily seen, and the damning remarks that she might then suffer are not worth the enjoyable prize she'd make.

He twists with her body, aiming to have her pressed against a wall, to lean in close and go back to kissing her. He wants to steal the breath from her lungs, and he groans against her skin as his leg slips between hers.

He had missed her without even knowing he had. ]

This first.

[ Solas reaches between them, hand trailing down her body, stroking against her breasts through the fabric of her clothes. ]

[troubleyan]

Oh gods. [Is it blasphemous to call out to any deity at all, now that she knows that the very deities the Dalish believe in were once just powerful mages? Or is it more of a blasphemy that she'd still easily worship this one if given another chance.

Sometime in the future, there will be time for Evelyn to curse her tender heart, but not tonight.

Tonight she arches as soon as he presses her against one of the walls of her room, in an eager attempt to coax him to grab, touch, pinch, tease.]

Nngghh, yes, anything you want. [Whatever 'this, first' means, she's responsive to it. Her nipples tighten at the mere suggestion of his touch, almost to the point of pain when he follows through and strokes them. She feels her lips tender, bruised from kissing already, but still brushes them against his temple when in reach.

One hand comes up, covering his hand and making him squeeze her left breast with it. Friction, before she goes utterly mad - and if Solas isn't pleased with her demands, he can very well restrict them.]

[dirth]

[ Maybe it is wrong to call anything out, but Solas can't blame her for it; let her cry for the Gods, when she has one under her hands, one who would do anything for her. If she isn't going to cry out his name, moan for him, shout for him, then let it be something he is at least remembered for.

He remembers her. He knows what she likes, what she enjoys; to be bitten, marked, to press her against a wall, or his mouth, or his cock and fill her. There's no way he can resist giving in to that.

Fingers slip up under the fabric of her shirt, pressing into the warmth of her skin. He searches out the pebble of her nipple, flicking his fingers over it before his palm covers her completely and squeezes. ]

I want to fuck you. To forget him, and remember me.