Somehow, he manages to hold back his laughter at the way she's decided to handle her last bits of food. That was one way to finish off her meal. With a simple wave of his hand, he indicates their plates should be left as is. He slides out from his seat and moves to offer her a hand should she want it.
"I find the gardens calming when I am in need of peace," he suggests. If this is any indication of how her time adjusting to Elgar'nan has gone, she could use the quiet instead of bustling halls.
The plate is set aside, dusting her fingers off. Then reaches for him, misses a little, at the edge of her hand until she slides across his fingers, curling hers - soft, light, where it had not already blistered sorely around it. Swords.
"Do you find it?" She wets her lips. "Peace?" That is, rising to stand up and go with him. "Only... I do not think to know how one can." Not here particularly, but at all.
A fighter. That had been clear the moment he had seen her. The blisters on her hands had only further proved it. He keeps his hold light, never wanting to constraint her or make her feel as if she had to stay. All he was there for was to provide a guiding hand should she want it.
"Very rarely," he admits and starts leading the way. Not that he sounds bothered. He was used to carrying the weight of many on his shoulders. "But the aroma of the gardens helps when little else does."
Her hand keeps there, falling into step with him. Her face turning to look at him, where she cannot open her eyes - so that he might know he has her full attention. "Which is your favourite flower for the smell?"
A naive question, maybe, or just a simple one. Removed from every other bit of misery at present but easier for it. Perhaps selfish because - "Only, it's beauty might be otherwise lost on someone half blind, I'm afraid."
"One that cannot be picked and blooms rarely," he answers. Even if she could not see it, the peace of it had far more to offer her than others here. "There are a few scattered among Mythal's gardens. Will you be here after dinner?"
Because if she was, he would be taking her for a walk through the more secluded ones when others were off preparing for rest or unwinding after a day's work.
"He said he planned on it." She would need to be on hand, couldn't be too far. Must be ready for entertainment, because he had planned to stay long. He deserved his praise after all.
(that she refuses to give him a name, she wonders, is that her trying to protect herself or forgive these sins? She can't quite tell. Suspects, regardless, that it changes nothing.)
"I would like that. Very much. It sounds very beautiful." untouchable, she wants to believe, because of that beauty. Except here she is, after all.
Solas makes a face at that news, not bothering to hide his annoyance to any who might be looking on. He was fortunate enough to be in a position where he could make his frustrations of Elgar'nan known. It was only when he became too vocal and troublesome with it that Mythal would reprimand him.
"Then I will show you. If we are fortunate, the flowers will be ready to bloom." He pauses as he considers his next words. "I may be able to bring something for us to drink."
An offer of respite, should she wish to accept it.
"Please." Is her little smile, her fingers gripping against his. His expression unbeknownst to her, after all, she was not looking up so far. Nor could she risk letting her face be anything but blank when her new master was spoken of.
But no one could make her look happy, look glad. They had taken that right from her, too.
Her smile, small as it is, feels like a small victory. It bolsters his pride and brings a small one of his own. While she cannot see it, the warmth of it manages to make it into his voice.
"Do you have a preference? You could use the drink far more than I." And he would try to fulfill her request as best he could. He was on good enough terms with those that worked the kitchens.
Her own little bit of daring then as she thinks with pursed lips. "Something... Something we shouldn't have. That isn't meant for us. Sweet. I want it to be sweet and bright." Maybe that meant more to her then it did to him. He was used to this life, grand, lived at the highest ranks.
But she was still so fresh off the streets. It had a kind of temptation. Like stealing out of a rich man's purse to buy sweets.
"Is there grass, where we're going?" A certain kind of hope, and odd that the further they seem to go, away from the quarters, the press of servants and their duties the happier she sees to come.
He hums thoughtfully then rests a hand on her arm briefly in assurance. "I may need to bring more than one to sample then. You will have to tell me which shines the brightest." And he would need to quickly return what was left of the bottles afterward, but he could manage that.
"Fresh air and quiet," he answers. "There is a path of grass that runs through the terrace if you are eager to feel it beneath your feet."
There was nothing quite like it when one felt trapped and alone. They had no need to be close at hand. If Elgar'nan wished to summon them, he could search until he found them far from the rest of the household.
"Good." is one pleased and eagee sound she says back.
Because when they do arrive she knows it at least by her bare feet, if not by gaze. How sudden it is, overwhelmingly so. It's risky, and it's stupid, but that alone makes her untangle her arm from his safety and guidance.
The feeling of it is overwhelming. An imagined freedom. Quiet, no barked orders, no kick to knock her down and no yank on her hair to pull back up again. Even her companion for a moment fades away, as for the first time since she had been taken away, Lakshmi begins to laugh, stretching out her legs and throws herself into a jerky run. Laughing and laughing and laughing. Until the blindness does its part.
But at least she is skilled, elegant as he said, that she catches herself as she tumbles, hits the ground and rolls a few feet to land on her back. Both her hands sprawled above her head, twining thick into the grass as she lay there. Laughing, still, half blind, still sore, and breathless.
As soon as she pulls herself away, he steps back. Who knew how long this moment would last, how long she would be able to remain here unhindered. It was a rare moment for any slave of Elgar'nan. The laughter has him smiling even as she tumbles. Every movement of hers is controlled and done with purpose despite the injuries that hinder her.
Once she's settled in the grass, he squats down beside her and rests his arms on his knees.
"Well? Is it as good as you remember?" he asks, amused.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"I find the gardens calming when I am in need of peace," he suggests. If this is any indication of how her time adjusting to Elgar'nan has gone, she could use the quiet instead of bustling halls.
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"Do you find it?" She wets her lips. "Peace?" That is, rising to stand up and go with him. "Only... I do not think to know how one can." Not here particularly, but at all.
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"Very rarely," he admits and starts leading the way. Not that he sounds bothered. He was used to carrying the weight of many on his shoulders. "But the aroma of the gardens helps when little else does."
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A naive question, maybe, or just a simple one. Removed from every other bit of misery at present but easier for it. Perhaps selfish because - "Only, it's beauty might be otherwise lost on someone half blind, I'm afraid."
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Because if she was, he would be taking her for a walk through the more secluded ones when others were off preparing for rest or unwinding after a day's work.
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(that she refuses to give him a name, she wonders, is that her trying to protect herself or forgive these sins? She can't quite tell. Suspects, regardless, that it changes nothing.)
"I would like that. Very much. It sounds very beautiful." untouchable, she wants to believe, because of that beauty. Except here she is, after all.
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"Then I will show you. If we are fortunate, the flowers will be ready to bloom." He pauses as he considers his next words. "I may be able to bring something for us to drink."
An offer of respite, should she wish to accept it.
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But no one could make her look happy, look glad. They had taken that right from her, too.
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"Do you have a preference? You could use the drink far more than I." And he would try to fulfill her request as best he could. He was on good enough terms with those that worked the kitchens.
no subject
But she was still so fresh off the streets. It had a kind of temptation. Like stealing out of a rich man's purse to buy sweets.
"Is there grass, where we're going?" A certain kind of hope, and odd that the further they seem to go, away from the quarters, the press of servants and their duties the happier she sees to come.
Or, not that odd at all.
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"Fresh air and quiet," he answers. "There is a path of grass that runs through the terrace if you are eager to feel it beneath your feet."
There was nothing quite like it when one felt trapped and alone. They had no need to be close at hand. If Elgar'nan wished to summon them, he could search until he found them far from the rest of the household.
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Because when they do arrive she knows it at least by her bare feet, if not by gaze. How sudden it is, overwhelmingly so. It's risky, and it's stupid, but that alone makes her untangle her arm from his safety and guidance.
The feeling of it is overwhelming. An imagined freedom. Quiet, no barked orders, no kick to knock her down and no yank on her hair to pull back up again. Even her companion for a moment fades away, as for the first time since she had been taken away, Lakshmi begins to laugh, stretching out her legs and throws herself into a jerky run. Laughing and laughing and laughing. Until the blindness does its part.
But at least she is skilled, elegant as he said, that she catches herself as she tumbles, hits the ground and rolls a few feet to land on her back. Both her hands sprawled above her head, twining thick into the grass as she lay there. Laughing, still, half blind, still sore, and breathless.
no subject
Once she's settled in the grass, he squats down beside her and rests his arms on his knees.
"Well? Is it as good as you remember?" he asks, amused.