"So you would subject him to living in ignorance, subsisting on scraps, for all his days?" Solas' voice is unexpectedly harsh, and he doesn't truly mean the anger he implies in his tone. Not at her. Not any more.
"It's an allegory, V- Lethallin." His voice is softer, now. Kinder. Gentler. As though he is himself speaking to that wretched creature lost in darkness. "There are many answers to the question. Some suppose... the shadows another living creature casts on the wall are so grand and unlike anything he's seen, he's no choice but- but to worship them."
His voice catches on the last breath. It's the slightest thing in the world. He knows she'll catch it.
"It's not a bad life, if one is happy." Lavellan is ready to argue further, to take offense to ignorance as if Solas is the only one who is capable of judging what is and isn't real to all of Thedas -- he isn't a god, as he's made clear, he has no right. Even the softening of his voice seems hollow and empty, as if she's too blinded to see the truth. But then he trips twice. The first is nearly a wound to her heart with the unsaid syllables of vhenan, and the second is telling.
Her own voice loses its edge, resembles something close to the fondness she'd used with him before. Foolish. "Then the ancient elves of Arlathan and the Dalish are not so different. Why doom one reality in exchange for another, similarly blinded?" It seems like a logical question. They'd been called gods back then too, or has he forgotten the rebellion he led? Mythal's death had only led him to lock the Evanuris away, not fight to undermine them in the beginning. Still -- "What does that make you, Solas? Locked away with the rest of us, watching shadows on the wall? Who casts them for you?"
She'd have him answer, if he can. It will probably not be as revealing as she hopes, but she has to try.
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"It's an allegory, V- Lethallin." His voice is softer, now. Kinder. Gentler. As though he is himself speaking to that wretched creature lost in darkness. "There are many answers to the question. Some suppose... the shadows another living creature casts on the wall are so grand and unlike anything he's seen, he's no choice but- but to worship them."
His voice catches on the last breath. It's the slightest thing in the world. He knows she'll catch it.
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Her own voice loses its edge, resembles something close to the fondness she'd used with him before. Foolish. "Then the ancient elves of Arlathan and the Dalish are not so different. Why doom one reality in exchange for another, similarly blinded?" It seems like a logical question. They'd been called gods back then too, or has he forgotten the rebellion he led? Mythal's death had only led him to lock the Evanuris away, not fight to undermine them in the beginning. Still -- "What does that make you, Solas? Locked away with the rest of us, watching shadows on the wall? Who casts them for you?"
She'd have him answer, if he can. It will probably not be as revealing as she hopes, but she has to try.