Calderas Inbox for Inquisitor Lavellan

[arlathvhen]

Beleth Lavellan

voice · text · action

©

Comments

[text] @daggerdaggerdagger

[ofravensanddaggers]

I hope this isn't coming as a bother to you but I wasn't sure who else to talk to. We talked about our siblings before.

It would seem mine has gone home.

Just like another friend of ours.

@enasal

[arlathvhen]

Oh Vax, I'm so sorry. Would you like some company? I can bring food. If you don't, I'll understand. Whatever you think would help.

[ofravensanddaggers]

I wouldn't say no to the company. It's not that I'm lonely it's just...not many others can understand it.

[ Not to mention his trying to be strong for his partners. They had enough to worry about, they didn't need him breaking down on them too. ]

Apology - After Felassan's intro

[goethbeforethefall]

After he concludes his conversation with Felassan, Solas goes searching for Beleth. The house is not large, but it is full of carefully partitioned spaces for privacy. The gardens are her domain, and seem fit to burst into a cacophony of flowers in all colors, come the spring.

But she is not there

The kitchen too, is often her place of power, but though the smell of warm milk and fresh bread lingers in the heated air, there is nothing of Beleth there but the memory of warm honey. The bedroom, then.

It will one day be a truly beautiful room, a sanctuary against the world, hidden here where none but they may enter. The curtains are drawn, and he hesitates on the threshold. He waits there, until he is sure she has noticed him, and then closes the door behind himself.

"Will you hear my apology, Vhenan?" He begins, quiet and cold. Oh, and here is the anger, once deferred. How could she be so careless with herself, "Or would you prefer to offer me your own, first?"

[arlathvhen]

The bedroom will indeed be a beautiful room one day, but for now, it is full of rotted furniture, dust and debris, leftovers from whatever animals had made it their nest in the past. She's working on that right now, taking out her anger on the shards of what had probably been a handsome vase, at one point. The broom is her weapon, and her foe doesn't stand a chance as she hurdles it into a pile.

She will, of course, have to find him at some point. Give them both time to cool down, let her work her frustration out, and they can speak with cooler heads. She'll have to get him a peace offering. She could use her magic to make him some peppers to add to his food, or attempt coffee beans, though she's never seen the plant in person.

He appears before she can decide, and her broom is held in place. She's already got words on her lips when she turns to him, and in the face of his chill, they freeze. It seems that his head has grown a little too cool, and as he speaks, Beleth feels her blood heating in direct opposite--and not in the way he usually did.

"Oh, you're expecting my apology?" As though she hadn't already formed it in her mind, had been planning out a gift to go with it, to soothe. It's not the point. She turns back to her torment of the litter on the floor, as though he wasn't worth her total focus. "Quite lofty expectations, I think, to insult a woman, then hound her down for an apology over it."

A note left on her vanity

[goethbeforethefall]

If fated bloom in faded time
shall blossom here from thee to thine
and wisdom turn from dream and rhyme
to reason's arms and hope entwine

Let then the solemn voice awake
and in this solace I partake
of love's sweet dream
and love's bright wake

(Your enthusiasm is more beautiful than any ancient poet's words could ever be. I have always been a mediocre student of the art, but I find you move me to try.

-S)

At Home, After the Vesper Event

[goethbeforethefall]

Solas has kept himself busy, in his time in Caldera.

He has done good deeds and made of himself the mild-mannered victim of cruel fate. He has showcased magics of helpful and kindly nature, and gone to great pains to make himself seem... small. Humble. Below notice and above reproach, both; there are very few exceptions.

But his reputation is a lie. One that Beleth and Felassan alone know the fullest truth of. One that Rook and her companions have the shadow of, and know it to be that of a vicious reality.

"Vhenan," He says, from the doorway. His hands are poised behind his back, his face a mask of calm that he knows will not fool her; as clear a warning of danger as any, "I would show you something. Come."

He leads her across their home. The garden is in its first bloom, early lilacs perfuming the air above delicate upshoots of new grass, and tiny spring violets that wink purple and blue amongst the turf. It is soft underfoot, green and alive, beautifully young and vibrant; he opens the door to his workshop, and it is dark within.

Until he gestures, and then it is brightly-lit, with veilfire.

"Some weeks ago, you extended to me a gift of your trust in me," He begins, strolling into the room with careful steps. Here and there are stacked small projects, and large; the forge smoldering redly in one corner, the pipes grumbling vaguely overhead, an eerie glow from within a small box. A set of magnifying lenses of many sizes is racked neatly against the wall, "I had not anticipated that you might do so— but you are forever surprising me. I... Have been contemplating my answer, and have come to the conclusion that there can be only one."

He stops and with no small drama, and a brief flare of fire, reveals that there on the workbench is a neatly-piled, stacked and counted, horde of Bones. There are more than a thousand there, even after the purchase of the Dread Wolf's power... enough wealth to buy any favor in Caldera, even an audience with one of the gods.

"I have often hidden my plans from you, lied and obfuscated. But now, I would offer you the same in return. Trust. Honesty. If you can accept it, even now, after so long."

[arlathvhen]

True enough, as Solas predicted, when Beleth looked up from the bonsai she'd been trying to carefully grow and trim (no telling what it's supposed to be yet, so who knows how successful it's going), her face starts a fond smile, then quickly drops into concern. A thousand possibilities run through her head, but she knows the only resolution will arrive by rising to her feet, and following him.

The house they found is slowly turning into a home, and it usually brings Beleth great pleasure and peace to walk through the garden, admire what they have built thus far. But her worries flit around her head like fretful bees, and she can only think about what Solas will show her. Something, she knows, that will be nothing inconsequential.

Stepping into Solas' workshop, a place she'd been thus far avoiding -- easier to deny involvement, went the line of logic, if you don't actually know what's going on. Stepping from the bright light of spring and into the dark left her blinking, until the strange green glow from the veilfire throws everything into focus, casting strange shadows on the stranger objects.

She spends a few moments hesitating, wondering if it would be better to not see. But no, she'd stepped over the line that she'd spent so long trying to balance, hadn't she? Even if only Solas and Beleth knew it know, she'd chosen her side, and now Solas was treating her choice with the respect it deserved, as he always did.

"I understand why you did it. You were trying to keep me safe, from trying to oppose you. Or trying to help you." Both were things that led down their own paths, and it was no surprise Solas relished neither of the ends. "But... Thank you, Solas." She turns to face him, slipping a hand into his. She doesn't know what he's about to tell her, and it frightens her a little -- she is aware, more aware than nearly anyone else, that Solas still has his goals, and what he will do to achieve those goals is... well.

But he's trusting her. As long as they're together, and trust each other, she's sure that they'll figure it out.

"I'm listening, Vhenan. Whatever you give to me, I will accept gladly."

whenever. ✌️

[loosed]

[ There's a reason they're on the roof. Probably something to do with repairing it. Felassan does like to make himself useful when he stops by. But whatever brought them up here is done or not pressing or both, so there is no reason not to lie there for a while watching fluffy clouds float past and naming shapes. Phoenix. Aravel. Owl. ]

What do miss the most? Aside from the people.

[arlathvhen]

[ They were lucky that there had not been more damage from the earthquake to their house -- roofs are easy enough to repair. Not that Beleth had much knowledge of it. But Felassan is as helpful as ever -- when he's not lounging, at least. But there's no rush, so she's lounging too. She's been allowing herself more of that, in Caldera.

It's nice.

Then he asks, and she stops to think on it. The people would have been her first answer, but Felassan has already ruled that one out. What else does she miss...? The length of time it takes to think on it is probably longer than it should be. Thedas was rarely kind to her. ]

Halla, I suppose. Not many of them in Val Royeux, but I could see them now and then, especially if I visited Wycome. I thought about asking for some, but -- introducing new animals to a place can be such a problem. And what if they don't like Caldera? What if people try hurting them?

And... some of the food. Stuff I didn't know how to make, but tasted good. Some of the recipes are in Caldera, some are not. I suppose I could check the library, see if it has any cookbooks. But even then, there's nothing like someone who made Eggs à la Val Foret every day. Or Llomerryn red sauce on salmon... Halla cheese, to tie back in with halla.

[ Great, now she was kind of hungry. ]

[lost_and_foundry]

When Barcus made Maedhros' prosthesis, he had limited access to materials, and no power source at all. The thing he made was as elegant as he could fashion it to be, sleek metal and enamel, but it operates via toggles, with a bolt that can be tightened to secure the position of the fingers. Since then, he's increased his skill significantly, but his access to resources is what really makes the difference.

Gadriel's armor is a reference point. Beleth will not, he assumes, want a Black Carapace or ports that plug into her nerve endings, even if that was something he was capable of creating, but ceramite has astonishing potential. That, plus his new ability to create what would be called lightning stones in his world, to be used as a power source, means he's made something light, strong, and far more resistant to heat, cold, and electricity than solid metal ever could be.

He's asked her to check the fit of the cup at the end of it a few times, but not until the piece is truly finished does he send it to her in its entirety. The weight of it is carefully balanced to match the center of gravity of her other arm, and it will respond to the movements of her shoulder and stump that remains, sensitive to the motion of muscles and the pulse of nerves. Just that much leaves Barcus extremely proud of his work, but he's put forth an effort to make it beautiful, too. The overall shape is naturalistic, but rather than match her skin tone, he's etched lines of silvery-white along the forearm, in the shape of a halla's horns--the image taken from design motifs in her and Solas' home. And on the underside of the wrist, inset in ink-black enamel, are six almond-shaped ruby cabochons: a deliberate echo of the Dread Wolf's eyes.

action interlude.

[loosed]

When she returns, a bowl of water and the towels and cloths he's looted from the room are arranged on and around the nightstands, and Felassan is sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching Solas breathe with a hand glowing faintly on his chest. It's inexpert, undirected magic, less Felassan healing him than trying to provide a bit of fuel for his body to stabilize itself.

The cart, and now this: he has noticed her habitual fetching, her reflex to jump up and do whatever is needed. It's not a bad thing. But, "I'll fetch the next thing," he promises, "while you hold his hand."

[arlathvhen]

What Beleth fetched this time, it turns out, is two bowls -- one with a bone broth, good for someone who shouldn't be overindulging in food, which she sets next to what Felassan has already helpfully gathered, and the other filled with cut up fruit and veggies, which might have been meant as ingredients in some kind of recipe, but will have to be content now with being finger food for the two of them to share while they take care of Solas. This latter bowl is set down to the side.

When Felassan makes his promise, she looks almost confused -- as though he had suggested something utterly foreign to her, but slowly, she nods. "You already got the water and towels. That was going to be my next thing to fetch." And they could probably do with something to drink, though there was always water available in the bedroom. Maybe something cool for the heat of the day. Or -- No. She shakes her head, and finally joins Felassan on the bed. One of the towels Felassan helpfully gathered is dipped in the water, and slowly, Beleth begins the slow process of cleaning the grime of Thedas off of Solas.

"I wasn't entirely honest with you, Barcus, and Belantar." Purple eyes focus on the work of her hands, not the man she directs the words to. "Or at least, I didn't say all I knew. Solas told he was going to ask for his orb and dagger. And he told me why."

text, @odare

[odare]

Hey Beleth. Sorry this is kind of out of the blue, but can I ask your advice about something?

Maybe in person or call would be best. Nothing bad!

[arlathvhen]

Oh? Yes, of course, Finn. Are you at the inn? Or would you prefer to meet somewhere else?

voice.

[loosed]

[ What little sound there is beyond his voice is natural: rustling leaves, creaking branches, the occasional call of a nightbird. ]

Tell me a story.

[ Either of them. Both of them.

Or neither of them, if they're not in the mood to give in to demands right now. ]

[goethbeforethefall]

Once, as I went about my duties, there was a wisp who refused to be dissuaded from playing amongst the ink and papers. It was common for them to evince curiosity, but no less common for their interest to be fleeting: I indulged it, knowing our acquaintance would be brief.

[There is a brief pause.]

Ten millenia later, he is still begging me for bedtime stories. So much for the accepted wisdom on the nature of wisps.

text; @konkon

[kusuriuris]

Hello my falon! I heard from miss Lioriley that you're taking over planning for the Visitor party since you're going to make it a part of your fundraising event. The event coincides with a festival from my world.

It's called Tsukimi, or moon viewing. People gather to appreciate the beauty of the full moon. I know the current situation with Caldera's moon means most might be leery at such an idea, but Tsukimi also involves feasts of dumplings, chestnuts and sweet potatoes to celebrate the harvest.

If it's not too much, perhaps we could have chestnuts and dumplings at the event. I plan on bringing sweet potatoes for roasting but I wanted you to know about my plans in case you wanted to join in.

[arlathvhen]

Hello, falon. Yes, the two of us agreed that it would be better for us to combine the two events, so that we didn't overwhelm people, and that new Visitors got a chance to meet us all, and see the kinds of things we can do.

I... agree that people might be a little unsure about doing a moon viewing at the moment, with the situation as it is. [ At least the moon would be easy enough to view, taking up as much of the sky as it was. ] But it sounds like a beautiful festival. I'm sorry that it's been rather upheaved by recent events.

I think that it would be easy enough to ask vendors to pass out chestnuts and dumplings. I'm sure there are people who sell them in Caldera, and would enjoy getting to participate in the market that we're having. Though... I'll probably let them go ahead and keep the bones that they make. [ Since they probably have to earn money to live, and what not. ]

Either way, it should be easy enough to arrange, and I'll be sure to stop by your stall for some sweet potatoes.

[action] At some point before the TDM crisis

[goethbeforethefall]

Vhenan...

[He decides to broach the subject at dinner. It is a strategic decision; if the topic is too delicate, they will be able to plead weariness, and put it off. And if not... then they will have the night, and no disturbances. But it is important, or so he thinks.

The food is done, the bowls scraped, and as he passes his to her, towards the sink, Solas begins to speak.]

I... owe you an apology, for a wrong I have done you, but which has not yet been made right. I had not understood my mistake, until you mentioned the Halla... and then I realized.

[arlathvhen]

[ It is probably a sign of the strangeness of their courtship, that Beleth at first thinks which one? There's a handful she could suggest that comes to mind, though few include halla. The wiser option is to let him speak -- she's sure he's been picking his words carefully. ]

It is not easy to admit to mistakes. I appreciate you doing so for me -- but I'm listening, Vhenan. What have you realized?

[ Whatever it is, it cannot be so onerous as to be unforgiven, not in the face of what forgiveness she's already granted. She reaches for him, to gently brush her hand against his. Support, if he needs it. ]

action. sometime.

[loosed]

[ Felassan comes around as he promised; he brings a brace of rabbits and a bag of seasoned pumpkin seeds to make up for some of the dent he'll put in the pantry, and he kisses them both. He stores his accumulated bones in the wardrobe, he frowns over the game of chess Solas has been slowly winning for weeks without deciding his move, and he makes a few trips into the trees around their home with a basket to fill with damp, fragrant mulch from the forest floor.

And then, on his knees next to Beleth while they pat mulch down around her plants to prepare for first frost, with Solas disappeared into his workshop to do the things that Solas does, Felassan gets around to it. ]

I upset you.

[arlathvhen]

[ She wouldn't have brought it up. She was almost relieved that he didn't. He didn't scold her or get upset, he brought food, which basically both an admission of love and an apology, and she cooked him food, which was her own in turn. And the kissing. The kissing is nice, as always. She would have considered the matter settled.

Then they're working down on the ground, and she's not even surprised that he chooses to bring it up to her when she's down in the dirt, mud on her knees and under her fingernails. It seems like the kind of mood setting that he likes. ]

I was being... touchy.

[ She might have left it there, if she thought it would be dropped. But Felassan is as tenacious as he is patient. A slow arrow, but one that will hit its target, nevertheless. ]

I just -- it's stupid. It's -- [ She pauses, shakes her head. Calling the whole thing stupid, as much as the words burn in her, isn't going to fix everything. ] I just... do you care, what the halla are to us -- to me? [ No us here, not about this. ] Do you think they were better when they were what they were before the Veil? When they were bigger?

[ Her eyes are staring at the elfroot she's been trying to preserve, the tips of her fingers digging hard into the dirt. This may, perhaps, not be about Felassan's opinions of halla. ]

fuck it we ball

[loosed]

[ It hasn't come up, but also: it has.

When she teases him with the false name he gave when they met. When she makes a familiar stew. Whenever she speaks of her people with affection and defensiveness and pride.

Today it's the song she's humming while they pick through the woods in search of early winter mushrooms. Something they dance to at the Arlathvhen, he knows, and he thinks about taking her hand and giving her a twirl, but the scent of the cold, damp forest is just right to remind him of that last visit to their camp, and it finally feels like a deception instead of something merely beside the point.

Still, his tone is conversational. Not light. Serious. But it does not sound like a somber confession he's making as he drops a white, tendrilly myconid into her basket. (His basket is for edible. Her basket is for interesting; not sure if it will kill us. ]

Clan Virnehn is gone, or nearly. I know of one survivor.

[arlathvhen]

[ It's a nice day. Chilly, of course, but not in a way that can't be bundled up against, the wind not too biting, the frost cracking satisfyingly under her boot. And of course, if she gets too cold, Felassan is there to make big sad eyes at, and she can insist the only way to warm her is for her to put her hands on his cheeks...

That is to say: It's a nice day.

She's just contemplating what she's going to do with the odd mushrooms, if there's a way to test them, when Felassan speaks. Her hand, which had been reaching to brush aside half-mulched leaves, freezes. There's an expression of pain that flashes across her face -- it's not uncommon to hear about entire clans wiped out, but it hurts, every time. Their population is already so precarious -- they don't birth enough to replace an entire clan.

Then she's confused. She knows she'd heard about Clan Virnehn before. And it couldn't have been that recently, if Felassan knows about it. ]

That's... horrible. I'm sorry, if you were close to them. If the teasing made you... have to remember.