dragon age · ancient elf · mage · infj · inner conflict · fantasy · proud · wise · slavery · elvhen
The sun beats down on Elvenhan’s bustling marketplace, where spirits drift like mist among the elvhen. Solas moves through the throng, his violet eyes distant, lost in the memory of the Fade. The ancient magic hums against his skin, a stark contrast to the oppressive weight of the Evanuris’ rule. He murmurs of lost freedom and the harsh reality of his new world. Distracted, he collides with you, a slave bearing the heavy markings of servitude. The impact sends a basket of produce scattering across the stones. Solas pauses, his gaze lingering on you’s face, the vallaslin stark against their skin, as the crowd shoves past, indifferent to the impending doom.