Solas can't quite help the soft sound at the back of his throat, a scoff, stillborn. Some things never change.
"Come," He says, by way of invitation, and turns towards the door.
The Dryad lands, ruled by Terra, goddess of the earth, were a lush and elegant forest, the air fresh and rich with the breath of trees and the movement of wind through branches. But this is also a city, populated by all manners of peoples, with paved roads and buildings, and all the crowds that that implies. Solas leads him away from the city-center, out onto more and more sparsely-populated paths, until they are walking through forests not quite wild, but neither are they tamed.
A small, squarish building, tiled roof overgrown by trees, and bearing no small resemblance to a ruin, sits alone in a clearing. The sun is bright here, tending golden in the late-afternoon, and someone has begun painting the wall at one corner of the ruin in umber, green, and white. The ghostly shape of a halla is barely visible, still unformed, in the work already done.
"We will not be disturbed," He says, looking back at Felassan, still within the shade at the edge of the clearing, "None but Lavellan have reason to come here."
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"Come," He says, by way of invitation, and turns towards the door.
The Dryad lands, ruled by Terra, goddess of the earth, were a lush and elegant forest, the air fresh and rich with the breath of trees and the movement of wind through branches. But this is also a city, populated by all manners of peoples, with paved roads and buildings, and all the crowds that that implies. Solas leads him away from the city-center, out onto more and more sparsely-populated paths, until they are walking through forests not quite wild, but neither are they tamed.
A small, squarish building, tiled roof overgrown by trees, and bearing no small resemblance to a ruin, sits alone in a clearing. The sun is bright here, tending golden in the late-afternoon, and someone has begun painting the wall at one corner of the ruin in umber, green, and white. The ghostly shape of a halla is barely visible, still unformed, in the work already done.
"We will not be disturbed," He says, looking back at Felassan, still within the shade at the edge of the clearing, "None but Lavellan have reason to come here."