Up in Smoke [ Solavellan ]

Chapter 2

Marel Lavellan feels endlessly outside of themselves, their thoughts a thick haze of grief and confusion. Clarity only comes in hints when they face down the hoards of demons that block their path to the temple, and even then their vision is clouded with images from the past they've tried so hard to bury deep down.

But this time, they are not fighting alone, though they're unsure how to feel about the company they keep. Marel can feel the stare of the human woman, Cassandra, burn into the back of their neck when they aren't looking. The dwarf, Varric, seems nice enough, but his casual banter rings hollow with the severity of the situation. And then there's...the elf.

They think he said at one point his name was Solas. He's been oddly collected compared to the other two, and the expression on his face is as cryptic as anything. Out of the corner of their eyes they sometimes see him staring like Cassandra does, but with different intentions. Although he keeps at a distance, Marel gets a feeling of impatience and...attentiveness. It's a strange sensation.

Marel assumes it's that he's a healer, or something like that. He was the one watching over them while they were unconscious, after all, and he was able to calm the wretched mark on their hand when it hurt so much it woke them from their sleep. They may not even be here now if it weren't for his care. Other than that, they're unsure of his role in this situation - he was the one to reveal that whatever has embedded itself into their hand can close the tears in the Veil and keep the demons out, so he's not simply a healer.

His words from earlier in the dungeons echo through their mind: "The Conclave was destroyed...you are the only survivor."

The only survivor.

Marel's throat constricts as they climb the snow-covered stairs up the side of the mountain. They wrap their arms around themselves in a futile effort for warmth and let out a shaky breath. If they could, they would collapse in the snow right then and there, and scream until their lungs turned raw.

But no matter how much it hurts, they can't afford to let themselves sink. Not now. To do so would only cause more suffering, and to sit back and let the world tear into pieces would be a greater crime than anything. They divide some of their attention into their fire magic, letting just enough heat bristle at their finger tips to stave off as much cold as they can.

"Are you alright? You're not injured, are you?"

Marel turns their head to see the dwarf matching his pace with theirs. He has a warm smile on his face. They wish they could find comfort in it, but all they can do is shake their head.

"Is that a 'no' as in 'I'm not alright,' or 'I'm not injured'?" He chuckles and runs a hand back over his head. "I guess I'll take it as both. You're not much of a talker, are you?"

"Perhaps they don't want to talk to you, Varric," Cassandra says from in front of them as she glances back, irritation clear in her tone.

He waves her off. "Just because you're not fond of my company doesn't mean everyone else, isn't, Seeker. I guess I'll leave your prisoner alone, though - for the time being."

Cassandra says something back to him, but it blurs into the background out as another Fade Rift comes into view up the hill. The mark begins to sputter, and each crackle stings like scraped skin.

They glance to their left, and on the other side of them from the dwarf is Solas. His stern gaze bores into theirs, and he does not look away until they're close enough to the Rift for the demons that surround it to notice their presence.

Distracted by the torrent of emotions in their mind for a moment, as they reach behind them and pull the staff off of their back, Marel entertains the idea that what he's feeling is contempt.

-

Their prisoner is a whirlwind of flame. They seem to operate on basic urges as they make their way to the ruins of the temple and closer to the breach; they see a demon, they destroy it it with no mercy. Otherwise, they keep their head down, eyes still empty, and they respond to everything asked of them with a simple nod or shake of the head.

The dwarf repeatedly tries to start up conversation to ease the tension in the air, but any effort dies quickly with the Seeker's annoyance and the prisoner's silence. If it weren't for the few words they shared with him earlier, Solas would think they didn't speak at all. He can't tell if they're burdened with the memories of whatever occurred before or eve during the explosion, or whether the Seeker and her associate had thoroughly whipped - in a metaphorical sense - their prisoner into submission. He grimaces at the thought.

He expects their pace and grim expression to falter at least a little when they reach the lyrium-infected temple ruins, especially when a Pride Demon shows itself after re-opening the rift in the center, but they remain as steadfastly despondent as they were since they left Haven.

At only one point does their silence break - once the hulking monster is defeated and its body begins to dissipate, the dwarf, the Seeker, and the soldiers in the area look to the prisoner expectantly as the mark in their hand sparks and sputters with energy. However, the prisoner turns their head to Solas instead. With their skill in a destructive form of magic and the way their dark hair hangs over their eyes like a veil, they almost look scary.

This person is not what he expected.

"Is this going to kill me?"

Solas stares back at them, both hands on his staff as he processes the question. Their tone is too flat for them to tell whether they are asking out of fear...or out of hope. He can only tell the truth:

"I do not know."

With that, the prisoner's eyes shut as they turn away from him. He watches in silence as they step towards the rift, raise their hand, and the point of connection between them and the Fade sparks to life.