congrekate | dragon age au!

dragon age au!

The rumor mill is still going on as to why Jonathan Strange fled the circle to become an apostate mage. Some say that it's as simple as an argument with his former tutor. Others say that the man never really recovered from his actions in the Mage-Templar War. The most likely answer is that something snapped after the death of his beloved. The one thing everyone can agree on is that it's really a shame someone with such potential threw it all away. He could have easily made his way up the social ladder, working at a court somewhere!

To which Strange would respond that he was doing perfectly fine right now, thank you very much, even if he was currently living in a shack that leaked when it rained, he had not even half of the books he was used to, and he heard people whisper behind his back, calling him the 'mad mage of the Dales'. So be it. His plan was probably a bit mad to begin with: Jonathan Strange planned to summon a god.

Not just any god, of course. He had gone through the various pantheons, trying to find the perfect one to grant him what he wanted (power, mostly, a way to take the tools and trade of necromancy and make it more solid, to raise the dead instead of raising spirits.) And eventually, Strange settled on Fen'Harel. He could draw upon the power of the location of the Dales as well as his status as an outsider himself to appeal to the god. The ritual itself was the most complex part, but modified necromancy bindings and a few of his own additions should suffice.

And so, Strange performs the magic. And poor Solas is probably just damn confused as to what he sees when he's forcibly woken up from his nap. The shack is small, covered head to toe with knick-knacks and trinkets, some of magical significance, others not. Dried herbs cover a table and books cover almost any other flat surface. Good luck trying to find where Strange sleeps as the bed has also become storage space. The mage himself looks wild: a middle aged human with scruff and hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in years, clothes ragged and dirty. And he just regards Solas with sheer confusion.

"I thought the wolf part was literal."

This is an elf. This isn't a dog. Did he make a mistake in the summoning? And if he didn't summon a god, then who the hell did he summon?

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"As individuals," he returns sharply and simply with no hesitation. "Something you would have realized if you had tried to speak with one. Or were you too frightened of what would happen? I know far more of the Fade and those that reside in it than you or your Circle."

He had spent countless years wandering it and before that, the Fade had been far more accessible and open to him and the rest of Elvhenan. That Strange would try to claim otherwise was laughable.

"I'm not frightened," he hissed, glaring at Solas all the while. At least, he tries to tell himself he isn't frightened. Some aspects of the Fade do scare Strange more than others. But he's got to tell himself he isn't frightened, he's got to push himself forwards anyway. He needs to bring back Arabella, after all.

"And, as far as I know, no one in the Circle is an ancient elven god. We've made do with the knowledge we had. If you would care to share more information about the Fade with the Circle, then we'll happily listen."

Probably not. But, at least, Strange would listen.

He laughs at that though it is humorless. After all his time trying to speak to the Dalish in the Fade, trying to make them understand, he would not bring himself to speak to those of the Circle. If he couldn't rely on those that had become a mockery of the People to listen to him on matters of their history or the Fade then speaking to the Circle would be an even larger waste of his time.

"Your knowledge is founded on fear and a desire to control." Whether it was the mages with strong connections to the Fade or the spirits they summoned, all the Circle sought to do was control. "There is little that will change such ignorance."

"Did you even bother to pay attention to what was going on in the world during your little nap?" Probably not, as Strange was the one who woke Solas up in the first place. But a little thing like 'the obvious' isn't going to stop Strange's ranting. "Look at what's happened in Kirkwall, at the White Spire. Whether you realize it or not, things are changing. Now, more than ever, people would listen! I would certainly listen!"

There's a little bit of distancing himself from the Circle, though Strange hasn't fully realized that yet. Yes, the Circle's magic was formed from a desire to control. And yes, so was Strange's magic. All of this was to gain control over death, to bring back one person who had passed. But as much as Strange was a part of the Circle, he wasn't entirely it. Yes, there was a desire to control. But there was also a desire to simply learn.

Everything Strange says is small in comparison to what will happen once Solas gains control of his focus. Those were cards Solas would keep close to his chest. Strange had no need to know what power Solas was truly capable of, of what he wanted to do to completely reshape Thedas most likely into ruin. That was his burden to bear and mull over as he recovered from his long sleep.

"Then listen to this," he starts, speaking evenly. "You are a fool to squander what knowledge a spirit could share with you and force them into servitude for your petty goals."

"Petty?" That's what annoys him the most. Because petty? How is bringing someone back from the dead 'petty?' How is saving a life, how is giving life back any sort of petty?!

By now, the nug smells slightly charred. Quickly, Strange pulls it out of the flames, blowing out any smaller flames that still cling to the beast's flesh. He's still glaring at Solas all the while as he does so.

"There's nothing petty about bringing back someone who didn't deserve to die. That's just, nothing more."

Solas remains tall at Strange's hostility. The man could think what he wants, but his goals were petty and selfish if all he wanted was to forcefully bring back a dead woman. Solas may understand the urge, had gone on his own quest for vengeance when Mythal had been slain, but he had the time to learn. Those living in Thedas today did not have the luxury of time.

"I was unaware you were so important as to decide matters of life and death," he says plainly. There was no life to 'save' no matter what Strange thought and harming spirits over it would serve no purpose.

"I am when it comes to her!" he snaps. Because for all of Strange's pride, for all of Strange's egotism, for all of his arrogance, that's what it boils down to in the end: he's a mage who's simply unable to accept that his loved one has died. All this power, all this magic at his disposal and he can't save her? Unacceptable.

Yes it's petty and yes it's selfish but Strange does not care.

He dismisses Strange's anger with a wave of his hand. The man wouldn't change his mind, but he would be fortunate enough that Solas was forced to lead him to a repository of ancient elven materials. What Strange would be able to do with any of that would be up to the other man.

"You will have your chance, no matter how foolish I think the effort is." Solas could promise that, but he would not promise a chance without judgment. He had to have some fun in this adventure after all.

"A chance is all I require," Strange grumbles, before grabbing the slightly charred nug and (badly) tearing part of the flesh off to eat. Because all he needs is one chance. Strange is so wrapped up in himself, so sure in his opinion that he can save Arabella that he's barely listening to Solas as is.

He's got to do this. He's not sure what he'd do otherwise.

That being said, right now, Strange is sulkily eating the nug, in a bit of an immature fashion. He'll still happily yell at Solas given the opportunity but this is cooked, he's hungry, and he wants to eat.

"Such confidence when you require forcing others to do your bidding to make progress," he returns with no small amount of animosity. Solas will forever be disgruntled at this turn of events. It was not in his plans and he doubts Felassan or any others who know of him would be able to find him with how far off path he was.

"What would you have done if this spell failed?" Did the man even have a plan B?

Strange shrugs. He's got food in his mouth when Solas asks the question so he pauses, chews, and swallows. "Try again. Do some more research and tweak the spells components. Find another way to try and bring her back. There's plenty of options, I simply need to narrow down which one to use."

For all of Strange's confidence and arrogance, he had no plan B. It's very obvious.

"Your 'plenty' of options sound similar to all that you have tried before." Something he merely points out to be more of a pain in the ass than what he already is. Still, it is very clear to Solas that he is the best plan Strange has going on at the moment. This man was more of a mess than he thought.

"You are fortunate a worse fate did not befall you in this ritual of yours." Had a demon shown up instead of who he intended to summon, the mage would have been in far more trouble.

And thus Solas picks up on the fundamental truth of Jonathan Strange: he is a goddamn mess. At the moment though, he's a goddamn mess who's trying his hardest not to seem like a goddamn mess. So that smug superiority is still there as Strange finishes off the roasted nug in his hands.

"What, summoning a demon? One of your precious spirits? I could handle it. After all, you're still bound." Solas might berate and attack and disparage Strange all he wants but at the end of the day, Strange is still the one who's holding the metaphorical leash...for however long it would last.

He smiles, one full of quiet confidence. Oh, he was bound, but he was not as much at Strange's mercy as the other man thought. By the time Strange realized it, Solas had a feeling it would be far, far too late for him to even try anything to stop the shifting balance.

"Your understanding of the inhabitants of the Fade is laughable," he returns simply. No matter how much Strange claimed he had summoned and bound spirits, Solas refused to acknowledge that Strange might know what the hell he was talking about and doing.

"Again, not all of us can be literal elven gods." Of course Strange's understanding was laughable compared to Solas because, again, literal elven god. As much as he hates to admit it, he's only human. Of coruse his knowledge pales in some areas. But that doesn't change the fact that he's damn proud of what he knows, how he can implement it, and what he can summon to begin with.

"How old are you anyway?" Even if Solas was only a hundred or so, that would blow Strange's mid-thirties out of the water.

"Older than the fall of Arlathan." If Strange even knew that much of elvhen history. Doubtful even if the man was well-read. The whole events surrounding the time the Veil was created and the Tevinter Imperium's folly as they ran into what remained of the Elvhenan Empire was muddled at best, wrapped up in the Chantry's religious beliefs and skewed memories.

"But I am mortal, the same as those that walked the paths of the Elvhenan Empire." So he'd appreciate it if Strange stopped excusing his personal lack of knowledge by comparing himself to an 'elven god.'

Strange doesn't know that much of elvhen history. The only context he has for Arlathan is 'old'. So how old did that make Solas? And yet he still claimed he was mortal? The idea that someone could live that long and still consider themselves a contemporary to the rest of man is ridiculous!

Of course, if Solas did live that long, then who's to say that he puts himself on the same playing field as the rest of mankind to begin with?

He idly tosses the remains of the nug into the fire as the conversation continues. "A mortal who's lived so long? If that's the case, can you still consider yourself mortal to begin with?"

"Yes," he says bluntly. "When one is from a time where mortals living long enough to learn was commonplace."

Because seriously, he doesn't know how anyone in Thedas learns to breathe much less complex magic with their short lives. No wonder the art of being a dreamer mage was a rarity now and all with a connection to the Fade seemed to fear it. The thought was as unsettling to him as waking up in Strange's home had been.

Strange doesn't entirely believe that. It's so easy for Solas to say something like that. But, on the other hand, there's no way to actually prove that he's just a long-lived mortal and not anything close to a god—a fact that annoys the hell out of the mage.

"I don't believe you," he simply responds, but continues before Solas could interject, "but considering I've no way to tell if you're lying, I suppose I should at least consider the possibility."

The sun's almost set in the distance as Strange (badly) stifles a yawn. If they're to make their way to the ruins tomorrow, then getting some sleep soon might be a godo idea.

Solas was ready to be his extra self and sleep right where he was, against the trunk of a tree. Nevermind that he was less inclined to settle down for the night when he spent as long as he had asleep. He's not the one that used all his energy for the day in a summoning ritual then marching off into the wilderness with a supposed 'god.'

"Then why would you believe anything else I say? You summoned me for assistance," he points out. "If you refuse to believe me, you may as well release me from my binding."

Because there would be no point to this arrangement otherwise.

"I don't believe what you say about your godly status. But I do believe in your power and knowledge. And to be frank, that's all I need."

Solas might be a god or he might not be a god. But what mattered is that he was powerful, he could help Strange in his quest, and he (hopefully) knew how to raise the dead. Any sort of personal details or side stories didn't matter to him.

That much Solas won't argue with though he wonders if Strange will truly heed his words when they matter. The ruins they were going to would no doubt he guarded. Strange was a mage who may be able to see the traps and runes, but he was no elf. A varterral would make quick work of the man if he made it far enough inside.

Time would tell if Solas would get that sort of show out of this journey. He took no joy in watching others suffer, but he did have a need to find a way out of a convoluted binding spell made up of various forms of magic he was not wholly familiar with.

"Then let us rest," he says with an air of finality.

"Yes. I shall see you in the morning." And with that, Strange puts out the fire with a wave of his hand and tries to find a good place to go to sleep. He tosses and turns throughout most of the night, obviously having nightmares of some sort, but he at least manages to get a decent amount of sleep.

The journey to the ruins takes up most of the morning. Strange makes admirable pace, though there are still a few moments where he has to pause for breath (which he fails at disguising as needing a sip of water). But eventually, the ruins are in sight—and Strange's excitement is palpable.

He's almost there. Just one more step to bringing Arabella back.

"Come on!" he scolds Solas, as if Strange wasn't the one holding up the party 75% of the time, as he starts to walk towards the ruins.

Unfortunately for Strange, Solas would go at his own pace. He walked in an even stride as he had for the majority of the trip, himself eager to reach their destination. If they had any luck, an eluvian would be there and it would be one he could unlock to gain passage elsewhere. It would be far easier than trying to travel on foot.

He eyes Strange in annoyance, but gestures for the man to continue going on.

"Do not let me stop you," he says dryly, knowing damn well Strange would not be able to outpace him that easily. "After all, you are a grand expert in all matters elvhen."

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