Work Text:
Hazel eyes followed his brush’s path, watching as color washed over the blank walls. Her story erupted into fantastical frescoes, evoking awe where her own actions could not conjure it. A myriad of emotions set to dry within calculated strokes. Beautiful and archaic in its design.
Blue eyes glanced over her, studying, trying and weighing her character she often felt. Most would see him as aloof and opinionated. In a way, they were right. Yet, she knew his personality was much more colorful than it first appeared. He was wise and knew so much about the Elvhen; knowledge of her people she could only have dreamed of having. His namesake did not kept him from admitting he was wrong, allowing himself to be humbled. She did not want to give him her heart, but now she gave it willingly
He was so much more than he appeared, if people dared the chance to look deeper. Much like the wonderful images he created.
Hidden meanings, complexity, knowledge, inspiration. So much in common it was uncanny. Perhaps the adage was true, that one tends to put a part of their soul into their craft.
Imryll was jealous. She’d been so honored when she realized what Solas was doing. Never had she felt so emotional since winning the right to be First. Now she gazed upon the images with clear eyes, not addled by love or admiration. They held her up as a hero, a legend; powerful and captivating.
It wasn’t her.
She often felt weak, frequently slandered and called “knife-ear” by those who refused to anything past her ears. They saw an elf, Dalish and unchecked by their cities; she was a mage not reigned in by their Circle, a dangerous apostate. Yet Vivienne and Solas had proven that her grasp of magic was rudimentary at best, not the threat the humans saw. The only true power she wielded was in her left palm.
Creators, was she just a cheap imitation? Was the person everyone wanted, the lover he desired, portrayed on the walls of the rotunda? The true hero encased in paint while the imposter roamed and abused the stolen identity. She felt like a thief
Solas must have felt her tense beside him, his brush poised just a breath from the stone. “Vhenan?”
She lied, smiled as she used to do when her mother scolded her for not caring about the people. “My mind simply wandered.”
His smile was subtle, but she’d always felt like she earned it. Part of her nagged that he knew of her shortcomings, could see the fragility of her, and sought to indulge her. Imryll shrugged the feeling off and let herself fall into the eternity hidden behind his eyes. “The hour has grown late, you need not remain.”
“It’s one of the few moments I can find peace. I think I’d like to stay.”
Solas inclined his head, that smile still holding the corner of his lips up. She wanted to kiss him, to lose herself to feeling and flee the unreal expectations she had given herself.
Imryll did not engage him in conversation; it was not needed as her eyes were pulled to the pulsing glow of the veilfire. It was easy to just let it lull her to sleep rather than watch as Solas painted her away in stone.
For one second, as her eyes pulled closed, she felt liberated.