War and Tranquility

nine

He stumbled into the room, tipping a bottle of something foul up and finishing it off. He dropped it to the ground with a melodramatic thump. He looked down at it in disdain, its unshattered form rolled towards the wall. He kicked it, flinging the bottle against the weathered bricks. He hiccupped as it shattered, tiny shards of brown glass scattered around making him laugh inexplicably.

"Are you okay, Solas?" She took a step towards him, but he waved her away.

"I am!" He beamed.

Solas took unsure steps past her, accidentally bumping her with his shoulder hard enough to push her back a step. There was a hole in the wall where he slumped against it.

"Fenehdis, why would anyone live here?" He grumbled. "Min'an i'tel'gon". He peered out of the small hole and into the marsh, his form swaying slightly.

Th old words tickled her ears, and stirred something inside of her, though she still didn't understand what was said, so she replied to that which she did understand. "I'm not sure," she replied, "and it smells horrific."

He chuckled. "Indeed it does."

She strode over and leaned on the other side of the hole. The sky hinted at the dawn, the sun hiding just below the horizon, turning the sky to a gloomy blue. She took a peek over at him, his eyes were glazed, he was somewhere else.

"Maybe I have gone too far."

Rihari followed his gaze to the foggy horizon, but said nothing. She felt his eyes on her though.

"Do you think that? That I have gone too far?"

She gnawed at the inside of her bottom lip. "Maybe."

He smiled a sad smile. "Head-on-a-spike too far?"

She nodded carefully, making eye contact with him. He was closer, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. Had he moved closer, or was she just now noticing his proximity?

"Or maybe.." he started, "it was all worth it. For what they did to you."

His face was almost touching hers, their noses mere centimeters apart. Rihari didn't protest the closeness, it was... familiar.

His breath felt hot against her cheek as his nose brushed hers. His breaths came heavy and quick. His lips brushed against her cheek first, and then he seemed to lose all control. His lips crashed into hers delicately, like one of them may break if he pressed too hard.

His lips tasted strongly of liquor and elfroot, along with the lingering taste of last nights dinner. She didn't mind though, in fact she thought she maybe even liked it. Maybe not the concoctions of flavors, but more so the kiss itself.

He suddenly pulled away. His face wore a hard frown that dug crevices into his forehead. He turned, and walked towards the door frame, long missing its door.

"Solas, I--"

"We should get back." He interjected. His voice was low, his back still turned, but she could see the flex of his jaw as he spoke, see the tensity in his shoulders.

Once out of her critical gaze he lost composure, the hard liquor rushing it's way back in to hurl his emotions into overdrive. His mind whirled in meaningless circles as his world tilted with drunkenness. He closed his eyes hard, and could feel the room spinning about him, though he knew it wasn't real.

He felt suddenly uneasy, cold sweat formed a sheen on the back of his neck and his breaths came quicker. He kept his eyes closed, inwardly kicking his own ass for kissing someone-- something-- that merely looked like the person he loved, but was no longer. Why did he do it? His stomach lurched in response.

He folded forward, liquor filled bile spewing from his mouth and dribbling from his nose. The taste sent him vomiting again, and then once more until there was nothing left. His body heaved, shooting pain across his chest. His eyes watered eagerly, and tickled his nose as the little drops of tear and vomit met there and balanced at the tip, waiting to drop, but never gaining the momentum.

He leaned back against the wall, his head banged against the brick when he did so, but he hardly felt it through the burn of his throat. He wiped away the tears and residual bile with the arm of his shirt.

All of his limbs suddenly felt heavy and tired, and his body slid uneasily down the wall until his bottom crashed into the dirty stone floor. He winced as he settled, everything ached and his throat and nose burned with fire. He forced his eyes closed once more, focusing on the thrum of pain in his center rather than the pain in his heart.

He was running, his powerful legs pushed his body forward faster and further. He started to pant, breathing in scents of things still unseen, as he pushed his body further. There was nothing here except swamp, no real memories to latch onto, nothing worth stopping for.

His thick feet slapped the damp earth, kicking sticky mud up onto his belly. The thicker clumps of mud occasionally plopped off onto the ground, and occasionally, a paw.

Suddenly, he came to a crossroads, in the center was a large stone with glowing glyphs carved into the rock. He slid to a stop, licking his jaws of drool as he approached slowly.

He could see his reflection in the rock, which made little sense, but things rarely did in the Fade. Six red eyes looked back at him, from the face of a large wolf. He backed away until he could no longer see himself.

"Big bad wolf afraid of his own reflection?"

He whipped around quickly, teeth bared, to see a familiar face. It was like looking in a warped mirror, one that twisted in on itself, and had hard angles. He tensed. The vaguely familiar face smirked. "You've been busy, dog."

Mud was dried against his skin, caking the hairs and pulling them away from their roots as he moved again; just a small movement, a readjustment of a sticky paw.

Fen'harel settled on saying nothing, just followed him with his eyes as he walked a large circle around him and leaned up against the totem easily. "Nothing to say?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," Solas grunted. His paws felt heavy, like moving from his place might actually hurt him. Well, it would pull out some fur, perhaps.

"Nothing about them?" The familiar nodded towards the reflective surface of the rock, and there appeared the faces of the dead.

He looked away. His strength returned slowly and he started to walk away. Fur tugged at his skin. Either the mud gave way, or his hairs had pulled their way out of the roots.The familiar followed, moved by nothing other than air, he glided along beside the wolf.

"Leave me, spirit."

He laughed. "I am no spirit. I am like you. I don't belong here."

Solas woke with a start. He sat up carefully, wincing at the aches that shot through his body from this morning's events.

He wasn't where he remembered falling asleep, and instead was beside a cozy fire. It was dark again and the nighttime creatures were singing a lazy symphony. There was little light outside of the small circle of light that surrounded the lowly fire.

"Feeling better?" Rihari came from the darkness and plopped down a cloth slack containing some manner of squirming dinner.

"How did I get here?"

"You passed out in the hallway after puking all over yourself. So I cleaned you up, yeah? Brought you here by the fire. Washed your dirty clothes." She motioned towards the clothing laid across a piece of crumpled wall, drying delicately in the warmth of the fire.

"That was kind of you," he squinted. Kindness or servitude? He wasn't sure.

 
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Translations:
* Min'an i'tel'gon: this place is worthless/without value.
* Fenehdis: common curse.