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[dirth]

Who: Solas and everyone!
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: On board the Marsiva, should you want!
When: 20th onwards

[ This time, when Solas wakes up, he doesn't fall out of the bed. (There are small mercies.) Instead, he stands, a little unsteady on his feet, but rising to appear taller and a little stronger than the last time he was present on the fleet. His clothes, too, are different, and he looks a little more... Regal than he had been. He's certainly less on edge than his first arrival, shifting to realign the video feed so he can tilt his head, almost smiling. ]

The Marsiva, I imagine.

[ He doesn't want to ask if anyone he remembers is around - a part of him is afraid of the answer. It could be that they've gone and relived things just as he has, and if that's the case... Perhaps it would be better not to spend too long searching for them. If they wanted to speak to him they would find him; it's never stopped them in the past.

Still. ]

I should welcome myself back. [ A pause, then - ] I am Solas, for those that don't recognise me. 

[ What else can he say? He turns his head, gaze set for a moment, before he simply fights a sigh and turns the feed off. ]

Comments

[dirth]

As can I.

[ He is a Dreamer, after all. They're rather his forte. ]

Have you been here long?

[enshields]

A few months. Not as long as most.

[And for the most part, he's kept to himself. It's not that he's antisocial (although he sort of is) it's that the idea of making nice with the constant surveillance has him in a constant state of surly. He's coming out of it, finally. Slowly. But it'll never be his favourite thing.

Every once in a while he has to resist the urge to flip off empty rooms and hallways on principle.]

How long were you here? Before you left.

[dirth]

The same. A few months, long enough to know many of the people here.

[ Solas was much the same. He spent more of his time on the Pathstone than anywhere else, painting and taking care of Jove and Cole. Nothing else really called to him, not since his Inquisitor left and he knew what was ahead of him - as did Cassandra, as did others. There's no real escape from that and he's more than aware of it.

Still, he can hope that no one knows of the future he has lived this time. It would be uncomfortable to say the least. ]

I may well be here longer now that I have been brought back.

[enshields]

[Ah-- huh. Steve's expression turns suitably wry.]

You think it was all part of the show?

[dirth]

Would it be a surprise if that were the case?

[ He has no faith in any of their overseers. ]

[enshields]

[Privately, he doesn't think there's a lot that Atroma could do that would actually surprise him. He's seen too much of the world to think well of anyone's motives without proof positive.]

No. But it'd make them more [he doesn't quite pause, but he definitely chooses a diplomatic word on purpose] enterprising than I'd anticipated.

[dirth]

[ And Solas knows that initial motives and the way people appear and present themselves are the true deceptions. He had seen that himself, after all. ]

Enterprising is certainly the word for it. [ Solas shakes his head. ] Perhaps all we can do is hope.

[enshields]

[Steve's never been a hopeful man, only a willful one. Still, he'd never deride someone's choice in faith. Whatever keeps you sane in an insane world. Gently,]

I've found it's rarely the only recourse.

[Then again, he's the one who punches his way out of literally all his problems, so.]

[dirth]

[ He bows his head, tilting it ever so slightly, eyes closing. ]

We must do all that we can, for our futures.

[enshields]

[Steve gives him a very slight smile.]

That we will. It was nice meeting you, Solas. And thank you for answering my questions, I'll leave you be.

[dirth]

And you. I hope we can speak again once I am more settled.