SEATBELTS EVERYONE!!

[eppy]

TEST DRIVE MEME

 

→ Comment with a new character you'd like to test out in the game's setting. (put character/canon in subject line for the uninitiated please!)
→ You don't have to be in the game to comment! HEY HI HELLO NEW PEOPLE LET US ENABLE YOU.
→ Tag around with new and old characters.
→ App all those characters
→ ??????
→ PROFIT!!!!

Comments

[propheretic]

[He shakes his head, 'no' --]

I don't recall anyone --

[He stops. This is something strange. He's used to something strange; after his time in the Inquisition, he can readily accept almost any inexplicable event.

It's a little tougher when it comes to friends--or a person he thought of as a friend--acting like they've never met, though.

He clears his throat.]

You're not the one I knew, are you?

[harillen]

[Solas, on the other hand, isn't as quick on the uptake.]

The one you knew?

[But that's all irrelevant.] How did you come by that magic? [Not that he regards Dasha with suspicion.]

[propheretic]

[He lifts his left hand; wiggles his fingers.]

It's a long story, and you've already heard it. Just not with me, it seems.

[harillen]

[He's so unimpressed.] You are not the Inquisitor and that magic is not meant for you.

[propheretic]

[Everyone Dasha met during the Inquisition had their quirks, and of those people, Solas was among the quirkiest. He was suspicious; defensive; quick to judge.

But this just isn't nice.

Dasha presses two fingers to his temple.]

Well, you're not wrong on the second count.

[harillen]

No, I am not.

[He recognizes, however, that the Anchor must be borne by the Inquisitor. Therefor, the man before him, familiar or no, must be the Inquisitor.]

Your hand. [A not so deliberate pause.] Inquisitor. If you would. [He extends his own.]

[propheretic]

[He's not immediately inclined to obey. Perhaps this wasn't the Solas he knew; the man who was he friend. But he was clearly part of some Inquisition, which meant he still had a lot to explain.

Dasha offers his hand, his lips thin.]

[harillen]

[He takes Dasha's hand, holding it loosely in his own. With light, curious fingers, he probes the Anchor. There is, of course, nothing amiss to be found. No foul play. No strangeness.

Releasing Dasha's hand, he steps back, clasping both of his behind his back.]

Inquisitor. [He says it with much reluctance but also a small measure of relief.] What a curious situation we've found ourselves in.

[propheretic]

[Solas's tone takes Dasha back to the earliest days of the Inquisition, when Dasha had to fight for every bit of consideration from everyone around him. Particularly Solas.]

Oh, yes. Entirely unimaginable. Just like everything else I've seen in the past few months.

[He sighs.]

Can I ask you something?

[harillen]

[Dasha knows the way to the cranky old man's heart. At the question, Solas's ears flick forward with interest.]

Of course. I will do my best to answer.

[propheretic]

What was the last thing you said to -- to the person you knew as the Inquisitor?

[harillen]

That her actions were shortsighted and lacked depth of thought.

[propheretic]

And what actions were those?

[harillen]

[He takes a deep breath, as if that will steady him.]

She sacrificed the mages to the templars, allowing the latter to remain an order, unchecked. Instead of recognizing the danger presented by the Wardens of Orlais, she let them stay, let them aide the Inquisition. [His lips curl in a sneer.] She is petty, vindictive, acting without forethought or any consideration. Her motives are selfish, and her actions benefit no one but her.

[propheretic]

I see. [gently.] I don't have much in common with her, I don't think.

[harillen]

[This catches him off guard.

Then, as though it's a revelation:] There is no reason you would be like her.

[propheretic]

I can't comment on my own personality, of course. But most of those decisions don't sound like the ones I made. And -- more importantly -- that wasn't the last thing you said to me.

[harillen]

And what was that?

[He's smart enough to be wary.]

[propheretic]

[Unclench, Solas. Dasha mutters; he had a lot of steam before, but now he's starting to feel a bit awkward.]

Well -- you, or, the you that I knew ... we were friends, that's all.

[harillen]

[This surprises him.]

I... [And now he doesn't know quite what to say.] Your decisions, Inquisitor. What were they?

[propheretic]

I recruited the rebel mages as full allies, for one thing. I had little to do with the templars, aside from the ones stuffed full of red lyrium.

[harillen]

And what did you do with those? [His smile is almost wolfish.]

[propheretic]

[That's a little eager. Dasha frowns.]

Due to the 'stuffed full of red lyrium' problem, we had to kill most of them.

[harillen]

[This pleases him.

Probably more than is strictly normal. Or socially acceptable.]

And the Wardens?

[propheretic]

[He sighs.]

Given that they are our best defense against the darkspawn, I put them back to work. I know why you'd want the harshest punishment possible, but they were already in disarray. And -- also because of me -- leaderless.