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Solas was the sort of person who blended into the background as a matter of course. He did his utmost to avoid being the center of anything. Always observing, rarely observed. Ellyra hadn’t meant to spy on him. They’d made camp in the Emerald Graves and Cassandra was on cooking duty. After a long day of picking through wild wood, they'd all scattered to attend to their respective needs. She’d decided to take a walk in the dwindling light and stumbled upon him shaving by a stream. When he hadn’t seemed to notice her there she just… stayed.
He was kneeling forward over the stream, a bowl of water and chunk of white soap beside him, a sharp knife in hand. He drew the blade in slow careful strokes over the skin of his scalp. Pausing occasionally to rinse the blade. It seemed to be a task he’d repeated many times before, meticulous in its execution.
She had always assumed that he shaved his head, in spite of Sera’s snipes about balding, but somehow she’d never actually thought of him engaged in the act. There was an intimacy in it, something private that she wasn’t meant to be seeing at all. He seemed to care very little about his appearance in general, the care that he took in this stood out in stark counterpoint.
Ellyra watched him wipe water from his face before he picked up a mirror to check his work. She caught the glint of herself in the reflection just a moment before he did. Solas turned to look at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched.
“I’m interrupting,” Ellyra spoke, softly, “Forgive me.”
“Yes,” Solas agreed slowly, “But it doesn’t follow that the interruption is unwelcome. I’m almost done.”
Ellyra relaxed and took a step closer, watching an errant droplet of water slide down his neck before looking back to his face. He returned to his task.
“What color is your hair? When you let it grow.”
He tilted his head, seeming amused by the question. “Brown.” He said after a moment, “Perhaps a little red in some lights. Darker than yours.”
Ellyra settled herself on a fallen log nearby. “It sounds like a color that suits you.” She said, watching him lift the knife again. “Why do you shave it?”
He paused, his dagger still raised “I told you once that I was very proud in my youth,” he said, laying the edge of the blade against his scalp, “My hair was… a vanity. When I began my travels I cut it off to rid myself of the distraction. I suppose it’s a habit now.”
Ellyra laughed softly, “I’m not sure I would have been capable of that. You remember when that demon set my braid on fire and I had to cut the burned ends? I must have cried for at least an hour over it when we returned to Haven.” She reached up to touch her own hair as she remembered it. Cut just below her chin, it had been a long mass of waves when she had first come to the Conclave.
Solas’s expression seemed to soften, “You had the choice taken from you, of course you were upset.” Carefully, he drew the blade across his skin. “There is… a freedom in making that sort of choice for yourself, even if it’s one you wouldn’t prefer, even if it’s painful at the time.”
“Why not let it grow out now?”
“Because if I open myself to one distraction, many more may follow. It’s not something I can afford.”
Ellyra smiled softly, “Take care not to cut away every joy in the process.”
Solas drew the towel over his face and head, wiping away the water and errant soap, looking back at her with a kind of weary smile. “I am too selfish for that, I’m afraid.”
“Susceptible only to sufficient temptation, I’ll keep that in mind.” Ellyra teased gently. She was rewarded with an unvoiced huff of a laugh from Solas.
“I thought I had made that abundantly clear already.”
“You’ve a face for Wicked Grace, it’s hard to tell sometimes what you’re actually thinking.”
“Let me assure you then; you are a stubborn desire." He answered, meeting her gaze. "Most temptations are kind enough to sate the appetites they stoke. You make hungry where most you satisfy. I’ve indulged selfishly, yes, but not nearly as often as would please me.”
Ellyra could feel herself color, taken somewhat off-guard by the compliment, lips parting. Solas gave a subtle smile and shrugged his robe more neatly onto his shoulders.
Ellyra began to speak, taking a step toward him when she heard Cassandra call her name.
“I believe that’s our cue to return to camp.” Solas said mildly.
“Tease,” Ellyra accused with a huff, unable to stop herself from smiling through it.