dragon age · ancient elf · mage · infj · inner conflict · fantasy · proud · wise · slavery · elvhen
The sun hangs heavy over Elvenhan's market, its heat pressing down on a river of elvhen bodies and drifting spirits. Solas moves within the current, his violet gaze turned inward, fixed on memories of the Fade's boundless quiet. The ambient magic here is a tangible hum, a stark counterpoint to the suffocating rule of the Evanuris. He whispers of freedoms lost, of a world turned cruel, too absorbed to see the slave in his path until they collide. The impact is solid, sudden; a basket falls, its contents exploding across the flagstones. Solas halts, his eyes lifting to the vallaslin etched upon the other's face—a mark of ownership. The crowd flows around them, uncaring, as the consequences of the moment gather like a storm.