(no subject)

[singularwill]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Solas
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Solas is asking all the Rifters to come get a check up
WHEN: After they return from the Antiva mission, before the Fade shenanigans
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Eggs

Hello. Some of you already know me, but for those who don't, my name is Solas. I was the mage who first helped the Herald with the Anchor. I have been researching the remaining shards, and I ask that each of you that possess one come to see me - I will be able to soothe any related pain, and assess the condition of your shard, and of the anchor as a whole.

Also, if anyone has any questions, feel free to contact me here. Thank you.

Comments

[singularwill]

Of course. That is why they are called shards - they are pieces of the Anchor that the Herald wielded.

[elegiaque]

( gwenaëlle mulls it over a little. that makes sense. that more of them turn up, from the rifts, seems ...

like something that should be studied. so there's that. )

Where are we supposed to go and see you.

[singularwill]

I make my office in the base of the library tower, just off from the main hall.

I am free now, if you wish to come.

action?

[elegiaque]

Yes. I will be there shortly.

( getting it over with, etcetera. she tries to remember what morrigan had said to her already - some of it penetrated, but it was when she first arrived, and that was... quite the day. )

actiiiioooon

[singularwill]

[Solas is as he ever is - bowed over his desk, writing notes to himself in a tight, undecipherable hand. He looks up when he hears Gwen enter.]

Please, sit down. Your name...?

action from hereon out.

[elegiaque]

Lady Gwenaëlle Vauquelin.

( orlesian, by both dress and accent, although she's somewhat - toned down in comparison to her countrywomen. the dress is all one colour, and that colour is somewhere between dark brown and green depending on the light, the hair is neatly braided down her back, and there is no mask. there are spectacles, but on a chain hanging from her waist, not presently worn.

she's a touch wary - he'd probably inspire wariness in someone less suspicious of elves generally, even - but curiosity supersedes it for the most part and she sits as she's bid, folding her hands in her lap out of habit before recalling herself and placing the hand with the shard (struck in the palm; shielding herself with her hands had been instinct, if useless) on said desk.

a bit dryly, ) And you're Solas, there, we are acquainted. I won't tell anyone you didn't placate me with smalltalk if you don't.

[singularwill]

[He manages to keep any immediate assessment from his face, save for a wry sort of amusement as he steps over to her, and raises her hand off the desk to inspect it.]

No one would believe you. I am not generally inclined to it, with some exception.

[He paused, placing his palm over hers, and a faint blue glow emanated from his fingers, his brow furrowing.]

[elegiaque]

No one would believe my saying that a man who doesn't make smalltalk didn't make any smalltalk?

( she is not talking with the expectation that he finds her amusing, or interesting, or because she wishes to have a conversation and thinks that batting at him mildly with her claws is the best way of going about it (although that is generally her approach to friendliness, a smile like a knife, dry as the western approach) -

she is uncomfortable. he is an elf and a mage and a stranger, and any one of those things alone would put her slightly on edge; it is a matter for the shard in her hand, and she does not relish that in the slightest. she is talking because she doesn't like what she finds in the silence if she stops. )

I think that only means I needn't promise not to. 'Obviously he did not, Gwenaëlle, what nonsense.' What are you doing?

( a very frank question, but not accusatory. she is obliged to trust him. she would - just like to know with what.

things you understand frighten you less. sometimes because they are so far beyond you that what you understand is the pointlessness of your own fear - )

[singularwill]

I am pushing back the magic - containing it - so that it does not spread. At the same time, it allowed me to see just how far it already has, and to soothe any pain it might cause.

[She had been rambling, but he let her - it seemed more like nerves, than anything else, and his bedside manner had never been great.]

There. Does that feel any different?

[elegiaque]

Better,

( a little reluctantly, drawing her hand back to herself. she's experienced worse bedside manner, it must be said. he hasn't yet told her that her eventual decline is inevitable, for instance.

but she thinks of that elf with the shard in her chest, and he doesn't really need to for it to hang in her mind. )

What happens if it-- does.

( spread. )