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“Solas, do you have a mom-”
Keela’s bare feet skid to a stop as she enters the rotunda. Her gaze is always drawn to the gigantic eye of the Inquisition upon the far wall, but the explosion of colors now gracing the rounded walls sweep the words from her lips. Solas pauses to glance at her with a palette of colors in his grasp.
“Inquisitor?”
“They are beautiful, Solas,” she says as she approaches the fresco he’s currently working on. The looming, black creature above him does little to ease her worries, but it is still marvelous. The Elder One rises from the burning ashes of Haven and makes her lips turn down in fury. She’ll be ready for him next time.
“Thank you for saying so,” he replies and drags the brush through angry red paint.
“Wherever did you learn how to make such art? Surely they don’t teach lessons in the Fade.”
Solas makes an impatient noise as she moves on to the next piece. “I do have other pursuits.”
Graceful limbs slip pass the furniture in front of the next depiction. The all seeing gaze of the Inquisition catches anyone that steps through the door, but it is the wolves that draw her attention now. She thinks this panel is meant to represent the reformation of the Inquisition, but has never understood the point of the four howling creatures below. There was the wolf in the snow after Haven whose deep voice seemed to guide her steps, but she’s not even sure if it had been real. She certainly never told anyone about it.
"Solas?" She turns to face him and plunks back against the wall between the four canines.
"Hm?" He is concentrating upon his work and Keela can picture the hard line his mouth must be making.
"There is one thing that puzzles me about your artwork, however."
“Oh?” Solas tips his head to the side and approaches her, curiosity always something to lure him. “I would love to hear it.”
She throws her hand up to indicate the wall behind her. “The wolves? Everything else I understand but their meaning eludes me.”
Solas glances at the artwork and back to her, nestled in their embrace, and something strange flashes in his blue eyes. “Wolves have voices that reach across miles to one another. They are heralding the rebuilding of the Inquisition to the corners of the world.”
“Of course, that makes sense. I have always been fond of them. There are packs that often follow our aravels for a time as we move across certain lands. When I was younger, I would listen to them howl and imagine what it would be like to run free with them." Solas is watching her now, carefully, as if she is part of a painting he can’t quite decode himself. She pushes off the wall and moves towards him. “What is that look for? Thinking of ways to tame me?”
“I am not foolish enough to believe such things are even possible, nor would I want to.”
“But perhaps I would like to see you try,” she whispers and stops just a few inches shy of brushing against him. Keela expects to find his features drawn down, lips ready to reprimand, but he simply shakes his head.
“I am sure there would be great pleasure to be found in the failing,” he replies, voice playful, and Keela’s skin prickles at the way ‘pleasure’ rolls from his tongue. He usually skirts away from her teasing, but ever since they left Haven something seems to have changed.
Distracted by her thoughts and his bold tone, she lets Solas escape. He walks back towards his work and for a few quiet moments she simply watches as he touches up the fresco with finishing strokes. His light gaze is full of intense concentration as if there is nothing but the paint, the wall and the brush. It is obvious he finds happiness in this work and Keela can’t help but wish he’d turn that deep concentration upon her. She pictures watching him paint the contours of her collarbone with the tip of his tongue, moving down and down-
“There was something you wanted to discuss?” Solas asks.
Keela clears her throat to chase away wandering thoughts, but she can’t shake the sudden heat flaring up inside. “What? Oh, right. I wanted to…to…Fenedhis, I forget.”
Solas gives her his favorite chastising glare, but because of her curse or her addled brain, or both, she can’t be sure.
“It couldn’t have been that important. Skyhold is not on fire, there is no archdemon outside. I am sure it will come to me in a moment.” She looks back on what she had been doing before bursting into the rotunda. They were at the war table going over some reports, but there are so many now it is hard to keep track of all the numbers and words. Keela reaches up and runs her fingers over the lines of her vallaslin as she tries to think. The skin is raised beneath them, scars as much as they are tattoos, and it is easy to follow their paths.
“Do you know that you do that?”
She stills and looks up to find Solas facing her, frescoes forgotten. “Do what?”
“When you are deep in thought, you have the habit of following the lines of your blood writing,” he says and Keela pulls her hand back to glance at it.
“I do? No, I hadn’t realized.” She’s not sure she likes the idea of having such a simple tell.
“It is perhaps not so obvious to those that have not studied you quite as much as I have.”
“Studied?”
“Forgive me, a poor choice of words. I closely watched you hover on the verge of life and death, looking for any way to counter your predicament. Now I seek to see how you fair with the mark now that it has stabilized, what ways it might change you or influence your magic, your being. As somewhat of an expert on the Fade and rifts, it is my duty.”
“Is that the only reason you watch me?” she asks, her voice quiet but full of suggestion.
“I admit my interests may no longer be so academic in nature.”
Keela tries to keep the delight from showing on her face. “Oh, I see.”
“While we are on the subject-”
“Of me?”
“Yes. There is something I have wanted to ask you, but felt it too personal a thing to broach previously. Now I hope you won’t mind my curiosity.”
“I could hardly deny you a question when I have asked so very many of my own. Ask away.”
“Your vallaslin. As I understand it, a clan tends to worship one god above the others, but it is not always necessary for all to wear the same mark. Is your clan followers of Mythal, then?”
“No, most of my clan wears the vallaslin of the All Father. And I know what you might think, that perhaps Elgar’nan is a more fitting patron for my personality. I’m brash and bold and tend towards violence before I think and so on and so forth. It is definitely how my Keeper describes me, to be sure.”
“I may notice some similarities,” Solas says dryly and she gives him a hard look. “Why your choice?”
“For the irony.”
"You are toying with me.”
“Only in part.” With a sigh she collapses against the wall. “My Keeper wanted me to choose Elgar’nan’s markings to continue the tradition for the sake of the clan as her First. My parents, whom I’ve met only a few times since joining Clan Lavellan, also wear his vallaslin and urged me to honor him. No one thought to ask me what I might want.”
“You wanted Mythal’s vallaslin.”
“No, up until my Marking I wanted no vallaslin at all,” she admits. “Although I follow the old gods, I did not want to be marked for all my life in the name of someone else. I wanted to be my own person, not an extension of someone from so long ago. Then as First, I wanted to show the others we always have a choice, even if it seems small. Tradition should be respected, and I would never see the Dalish ways destroyed, but we should not be caged by what has always been. I would hope the All Mother would approve.”
There is something like pride in his expression. “Maybe not such a vengeful spirit then, but rebellious.”
“Yes, Deshnna was none too pleased with my choice. I could not have upset her more unless…unless I were to wear a vallaslin for Fen’Harel, if it existed. Maybe I should have made one up.”
Solas lets out a snort somewhere between disbelief and amusement and she thinks it’s the most undignified he has ever sounded. It makes her feel light inside. “You would risk the wrath of the Dread Wolf?”
He says the name with a hint of disdain and Keela rolls her eyes. “I am terrified, truly. If he wants to strike me down, he’ll just have to wait in line with everyone else. What about you, Solas? If you were Dalish, which would you pick?”
“I do not-”
Keela puts a finger over his lips, already knowing whatever he is about to say will be biting by the way his nose has scrunched up. He is not only one who has been paying attention to people's tells. She has no desire to fight over her heritage right now. The contact surprises them both and Keela pauses to contemplate the feel of his mouth. It is softer than she thought and for a few burning seconds she imagines how it would feel against hers, or slipping down her neck…
She takes a deep breath and pulls her finger away, replacing nervousness with mischief. “Did you know some Dalish don’t just mark their faces, but other parts of their bodies as well? Some continue lines down their necks, their shoulders, arms…” Solas’ eyes follow the path of her words before snapping back to her eyes like he has been caught stealing. Keela’s heart thrills to see the unrest in his gaze. With his attention elsewhere, she drops her hand towards the palette of colors still clutched in his grip and dips a finger into the red paint. She leans closer and raises one of her eyebrows. “Would you like to discover if I am marked further?”
Before he can answer or form a thought, Keela reaches up and swipes her red stained fingertip down the length of his nose. Solas stumbles back a step, startled, and glances at the damage. The sight of him with eyes crossed and wearing such a look of surprised horror makes Keela laugh loud enough to disturb the ravens in their loft.
He is quick to recover from his shock and pins a fierce look of disapproval against her, but there is a devilry of his own building deep within his eyes that startles Keela with its intensity. Perhaps she has met her match after all. “You-”
“Oh, I really must be going. Dareth shiral, Solas!” she yells in her sweetness voice and sprints back the way she came quicker than a halla, laughter trailing behind her all the way into the training yard.
She never does remember what she went there for.