Solas' eyes are closed. His head tipped back, just slightly turned away, as if the memory pained him, somehow. Presently, he shakes his head, and sighs

How may years, since he had seen Cassandra's face of heard her strident, confident commands? She had been his enemy then, a beast with teeth at his throat, dangerous in her righteousness as much as her strength. One day, soon, she would call him friend and ally, but then, Seeker Pentaghast would have calmly killed them both, and called it a blessing to have the privilege of avenging her Divine.

He had never felt so mortal as in that moment.

"You are thinking of her as weak," He predicts, canting his head back towards Felassan, "She touched the orb. She was flung physically through the raw Fade, and lived. Still, all who surrounded her would have killed her, and myself along with her, both of us guilty by the complicity of pointed ears."

And that was the world everyone wished to preserve. That was their peace, their wholeness.

"She was stronger than she had any right to be, simply to be breathing."