"Anything that makes you think."

"It makes me so angry, vhenan! I hope they get nightmares."

“Not even that, too many are quick to criticize based on what they heard others say rather than seeking out the art in question and forming their own opinions.”

“It’s wise to actually engage with art before you criticize it.”

“I am the eepiest of the pantheon.”

“I despise tea. Iced coffee, however, is excellent. Oh, you’ve never heard of iced coffee? It is elven. I learnt the recipe in the fade.”

“Dorian without a mustache is a jumpscare.”

//passed a cybertruck. Gave him the mandatory thumbs down as we passed.

Crabs. Vodka. Boobs.

“I would suggest something educational, but that may be my own bias showing.”

“Ah, The Game. You sound a bit like out Nightengale Spymaster. She knows great deal about The Game. I, being an apostate, mostly have followed what I have seen in the fade.”

Kissed her cheek. Leans closers. Whispers. “You also have a fantastic ass.”

“And what game is that, Miss?” He saved the drink. It was just sweet enough for flavor, but not overbearing at all just has he liked it.

“Your rare and beautiful spirit.”

Time for my annual reminder that “Time’s Person of the Year” isn’t an award or some type of endorsement. It’s a recognition on who had a palpable impact on culture/news for the year. It’s not a good or bad impact either; just a notable one.

New Fragrance out this holiday season

...I'm sorry. Why did Solas need a drink? 🦆🦆🦆 So he could be an ALL NEW man, FADED FOR HER

Vira i em in sethenan Ar'an tu gera laim inor uthraden Ne ea sulahn La ar, aven In hasal era lath laim La venem sal saron >

"She's actually an omnivore, I've learned. Fish and deep mushrooms are her favorite. I suppose finding her in a cave on the Storm Coast, that would make sense."

"Blackberry brandy?" Sniffed it. "This smells excellent. Thank you, Miss Halewell."

"You are by far my favourite Grey Warden."

Rolls eyes. "No, not him. Daddy as in...I am Nehn's father. And she wax the one stressing me out."

Mmmmm. My favourite!

“Ma serannas, lethallan. You are a life saver.”

“Daddy needs a drink!”

“NEHN!” Shivering. “You must shit!”

Solas looked up. High above, the cages of the rookery hung. Half filled with ravens, the other half out delivery messages across Souther Thedas. "Perhaps. I will at least fill all the walls. The ceiling will wait until the end."

"All mages are apostates now. I certainly did not go out of my way to have run ins with them prior to the Breach, if that is what you are asking. Perhaps it was lucky for me the Herald herself is a mage, and made an alliance with the rebels."

Holding the end of the leash. There are footprints in circles around him no matter how far out he walks. “Nehn! Pick a spot to shit and let’s go! Your father can’t feel his toes!”

“She is fancier than she believes herself to be. It’s adorable.”

Giggles. “It’s so cute she sleeps in a bonnet.”

"Thank you, Lady Montilyet."

Wrapping up in extra furs. "Skyhold is frigid today."

"If that was your first impression, Seeker, perhaps the wolves are Templars to you. I try to paint with feeling, the impression it gives off more than the literal images. >

“It’s the least she deserves. I am curious to see how the mural will finish. How this all will play out.”

"It will, yes." He crossed his arms, admiring the fresco as the drying process began. "Her story. The Inquisitor's. This place, Skyhold, is hers now. It should reflect that properly."

Val Royeux sat as she always did, against the northern tip of the Waking Sea, a gem of opulence against the wildness of the rest of the South. This afternoon, the water was shimmering under the bright sun, warm enough to make the cold of Skyhold seem like a distant memory. >

"Skyhold smells like cinnamon today."

He reached for the canteen with a nod. "Ma serannas." After a few cold sips, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Perhaps you are correct. Skyhold certainly will not miss me for a hour or so."

"Perhaps. Though, it would not be my friend, either way. It would be a stranger to me." The section of wall he was working on was complete. A few more scapes of his plaster knife and the edgers met the existing fresco on the panel over. More work was needed, but for today, it was enough.

Bundled up in furs and a cloak, which does nothing to stop him from shivering. The snow is half up his calves. The little deepstalker is taking her time sniffing under every tree. “For the love of the Fade, Nehn, pick a spot and go! Your father is freezing!”

“It was the liver. The smell. The texture. And cooking it only made it worse.” Covered his mouth again.

The plaster was not forgiving. Not like oil. It required quick hand, a battle against time before the wall would settle. Solas remained focused. Eyes never leaving his art. “There were so few of us, even back then. I was hoping more would form. I was wrong.” >

Hunched over, pressing his hands on his knees. “Fenedhis. That was unpleasant.”

The strokes of pigment are with intent, and precision, the muscle memory of a master in his element. While the young man is quiet, Solas still feels his presence. “Have never met a spirit of wisdom when you were in the Fade?”

"Apologies in advance if I vomit. I was making Nehn food. Nehn enjoys liver. The smell of it is..." Covered his mouth again and fade-stepped out of the rotunda towards the courtyard.

///the polar express is nightmare fuel

ᅠᅠᅠ

Sigh. “Indeed, it does.”