[ What else is there for Thranduil to know? He knows the depth of what Fen'Harel is and was; what Solas did, how Solas changed the world in the attempt to make it better. He had hoped the Veil would free the People, that they would be able to live and grow and flourish... He had not expected... This.
There's nothing left to tell, and he is exhausted from the weight of it. He feels as though he might fall apart, but he has someone - more than one someone - to push the pieces of himself together again.
The sharpness of his name makes him lift up and he hesitates, staring. ]
Is there?
[ For a moment, all Solas can do is stare at the hand offered to him. He doesn't know what to do with it, at least at first, and there's some hesitance to him. He's afraid of what it might mean to take the hand - he's afraid of what it might mean to accept everything that Thranduil offers. The comfort, the warmth, the friendship.
Things he had given up, things he had lost.
Solas takes the hand. ]
No one wants what the Veil did to the People. That is why I must end it.
Corypheus is... [ thranduil waves his hand, dismissive. ] Small. A flea. Had we been here with any strength, with a nation, with a People who possessed the foresight to fight him when he was yet manageable, he would have been handled long ago.
[ something lurks behind his eyes, in the way he momentarily gazes past solas, past this room. ]
He can be dealt with. Then the Veil, and the Blight, and finally things will be in their proper order.
[ he squeezes solas' hand, offering what comfort he can with the warmth of his affection, his certainty.
but another thought occurs to him: ]
What of the remaining Evanuris, when the Veil falls?
Corypheus has discovered something that gives him the power to survive what my Foci might do to him. It should have been enough to kill him once it was unlocked, but... [ Solas frowns. He has yet to discover what it is that has made this possible, what Corypheus did to make the orb... Work. Was it the Herald? Was it something else? The blast should have killed them, but...
He doesn't know. His eyes flick over to Thranduil. ]
It will take more time than I think you imagine it will, my friend. But I am prepared to give it whatever it needs.
[ This is his plan, his mistake, his thing to repair. He has to do it, and that is why he is still getting himself tangled with all these people. ]
... I had plans for them. Should they survive still... [ He shakes his head. ] It will be dealt with.
[ 'more time'. time with gwenaelle, then. time to breathe and enjoy her company. time to rest. yes, he will take whatever time before the storm that he is allowed. ]
We do not need a repeat of the past, [ he says, and hopes that will suffice rather than a drawn out conversation on what the remaining evanuris would likely do without the restraining influence of mythal (supposedly) or solas (at his full strength).
he smiles, wan. ]
Our last few meetings have been unpleasant. I apologize. I promise I get no joy from seeing you in distress.
[ There is time, but perhaps not as much as they might want or need. Time enough for them to feel as though there is not enough. ]
No. We do not. [ Frowning, Solas turns his head away. He has said enough this time, he thinks; he has bared his soul enough that he feels as though he might never be able to piece himself together again. It is painful, he thinks, but at least it is done. He cannot regret that.
Slowly, he turns back to look at Thranduil. ]
I come to you when I am distressed. It is no fault of yours.
I worry that you may come to associate me with your feelings of distress.
[ though how absolute, how trustworthy, to be someone's comfort. if he is to be an anchor of sorts, then let him be so. he has skill enough in being stubborn.
he turns his head, glances over at solas from under lidded eyes: ] It is a silly thing to worry that you think of me in such a way, I am aware. I suppose I am concerned more with the frequency that it happens. These past months have not been kind to you. Nothing has been kind to you in a long time, Solas.
I do not think that is a feeling I will ever associate with you.
[ Solas thinks, then, that perhaps he should begin to be more reticent. He should begin to pause his complaints to Thranduil, if only to lighten the burden. He is already heavy with secrets; Solas does not want to add to that.
Waving a hand, he turns away. ]
I do not think kindness is something I am worthy of. Not as it stands.
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There's nothing left to tell, and he is exhausted from the weight of it. He feels as though he might fall apart, but he has someone - more than one someone - to push the pieces of himself together again.
The sharpness of his name makes him lift up and he hesitates, staring. ]
Is there?
[ For a moment, all Solas can do is stare at the hand offered to him. He doesn't know what to do with it, at least at first, and there's some hesitance to him. He's afraid of what it might mean to take the hand - he's afraid of what it might mean to accept everything that Thranduil offers. The comfort, the warmth, the friendship.
Things he had given up, things he had lost.
Solas takes the hand. ]
No one wants what the Veil did to the People. That is why I must end it.
no subject
[ something lurks behind his eyes, in the way he momentarily gazes past solas, past this room. ]
He can be dealt with. Then the Veil, and the Blight, and finally things will be in their proper order.
[ he squeezes solas' hand, offering what comfort he can with the warmth of his affection, his certainty.
but another thought occurs to him: ]
What of the remaining Evanuris, when the Veil falls?
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He doesn't know. His eyes flick over to Thranduil. ]
It will take more time than I think you imagine it will, my friend. But I am prepared to give it whatever it needs.
[ This is his plan, his mistake, his thing to repair. He has to do it, and that is why he is still getting himself tangled with all these people. ]
... I had plans for them. Should they survive still... [ He shakes his head. ] It will be dealt with.
no subject
We do not need a repeat of the past, [ he says, and hopes that will suffice rather than a drawn out conversation on what the remaining evanuris would likely do without the restraining influence of mythal (supposedly) or solas (at his full strength).
he smiles, wan. ]
Our last few meetings have been unpleasant. I apologize. I promise I get no joy from seeing you in distress.
no subject
No. We do not. [ Frowning, Solas turns his head away. He has said enough this time, he thinks; he has bared his soul enough that he feels as though he might never be able to piece himself together again. It is painful, he thinks, but at least it is done. He cannot regret that.
Slowly, he turns back to look at Thranduil. ]
I come to you when I am distressed. It is no fault of yours.
no subject
[ though how absolute, how trustworthy, to be someone's comfort. if he is to be an anchor of sorts, then let him be so. he has skill enough in being stubborn.
he turns his head, glances over at solas from under lidded eyes: ] It is a silly thing to worry that you think of me in such a way, I am aware. I suppose I am concerned more with the frequency that it happens. These past months have not been kind to you. Nothing has been kind to you in a long time, Solas.
no subject
[ Solas thinks, then, that perhaps he should begin to be more reticent. He should begin to pause his complaints to Thranduil, if only to lighten the burden. He is already heavy with secrets; Solas does not want to add to that.
Waving a hand, he turns away. ]
I do not think kindness is something I am worthy of. Not as it stands.
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[ it is accompanied by the barest touch of the backs of thranduil's fingers to solas' cheek. ]
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[ Solas barely turns into the touch to his cheek, his eyes closing for the barest moment before he breathes out. ]
I do not need to be coaxed. Your company is enough.