lostcarnival | just gotta ignite the light and let it shine

Who: Everyone who's stupid enough to show up for this, because legal drinking ages are for people from a different century/planet.
When: Afternoon/Evening, Day 30
Where: Lakeshore
What: Local Carnival workers get wasted and set off fireworks by the lake.
Warnings: Carnival shenanigans, ie. booze, drugs, and people getting set on fire probably. Put any tag-specific warnings in your headers!

So, Wismuth happened.

Lambert's pretty willing to bet a good chunk of the Carnival is pretty happy to act like Wismuth didn't happen, but he also doesn't really care about what sorrows people are drowning or not tonight: he knows he needed this drink, and after he'd slept off the immediate exhaustion that came with running around Wismuth for nearly two weeks with the power of Creation more or less constantly burning through him, he's ready to something, anything to feel like himself again.

Fast-forward to the lakeshore. There's a huge bonfire going, a box of assorted fireworks that's been 'liberated' from wherever the hell engineering keeps their supplies, and probably a crate of wine that's going to disappear sooner rather than later. Anything else, someone's going to have to bring themselves.

[ ooc: This is a mingle log! Bring your own entertainment, food, questionable substances etc. ]

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The curiosity is genuine, that much is certain, but that doesn't curb the suspicion in which he regards her question. "One of magic," he returns flatly. "I did not have a specific one in mind." She was the one entertaining the notion of recreating fireworks back in Thedas.

And if he did have a display idea forming in his mind, he did not think it wise to share it with her. He lets out a small sigh and turns his gaze to the sky as another firework is launched upward.

So it would take more than a simple talk to get him to cast aside his wariness. Not that she expected differently, it was Solas, after all. Lavellan sighs, and shakes her head at him in exasperation. How stubborn, how very him. "Indulge me on this, Solas. Just the once." He had before, but she's not asking him to give up his evening and curl up with her in her quarters, reading.

She holds up her hands, focusing on forming small dancing sparks between them that mirror some of the designs in the sky. So it was possible, then. "I'm sure you could come up with something to show off here, if you wanted."

It would take far more than a conversation to even start to mend what was broken between them. He had made his choice when he had offered to remove her vallaslin and reaffirmed it upon the death of Corypheus. Their time apart had only solidified his reasons for doing so. The request to indulge her has him tight-lipped for a moment before he gives her a one-shoulder shrug.

He holds his hand out, palm-up and forms colorful sparks that fly up a ways then burst into more that fall back to his hand. A simple start that is an indulgence for them both.

"I know you can do far more than that."

That's enough to make her smile, although she shakes her head in fond resignation. "And here I thought you'd aim to put me to shame the first chance you get, show off." But her's will take more work, and she holds out her hand again, brow furrowed in focus.

What curls up from her hand isn't exactly a firework. Not yet, at least -- just twinning branches of purple light like the horns of halla that branch off into vines like Mythal's vallaslin before each point rockets into the air, exploding in miniature versions of the larger ones above them both, and fall like glittering rain.

"Better?"

Ah. His eyes open in recognition of the symbolism she uses. Appropriate she would pick Mythal's vallaslin to mimic. The memory of the woman is pushed from his mind quickly before it can tear down his carefully neutral expression.

"Better, yes." On the heels of her glittering rain, he conjures up a white wolf and 'blows' it away to charge into the 'rain.' When it finishes falling, the wolf howls before erupting into its own spiral of light.

Wolves. How very fitting. It pulls a grin from her, and a shake of her head. "At least now I know it was Fen'harel's love for the animals that gave him the name Dread Wolf. You are not a subtle man, Solas." But she adores him for it, just as she does everything else about him. Stubborn, prideful, and yet--

Well. Best not to think of it.

Lavellan smiles, and calls up a raven from the remaining light fading from the wolf, its wings twirling in the fading light as it corkscrews up to grow larger, until it hovers over them both -- spreading its wings wide before burning up in the air. Less impressive than his, no doubt, but still.

"Nor are you," he notes as he watches her raven fly over. The bird favored by Dirthamen who's vallaslin she still bears. Does she regret keeping it after all she's learned? He had given her the chance to remove it and she had made her choice, but that was before knowing the full extent of their past. It would be foolish to offer now and he lets the thought fade away.

"I expect you had other plans for this evening than to put on displays of light with me."

"I never claimed to be. In fact, I think several people we know would be up in arms if I tried," she points out, letting the light fade into the darkness as he doesn't pick up the thread of it. There's only a small twinge of regret, but one she doesn't pursue. Lavellan has spent enough time pushing her limits -- she'd rather not press her luck and cause him to retreat. It would be harder to get him to come back from it, she thinks.

A shrug, and a shake of her head. "I've seen to most of them before seeking you out. I'm sure there's one or two people I haven't apologized to yet," she admits, and sighs.

"You were not the only one lost to darkness," he reminds her, his tone taking a turn towards gentleness. It's gone quickly, however. That sort of sentimentality had drawn him in before and they were not feelings he could entertain now. It was best they part before that risk grew greater.

"I will not keep you any longer."

It's such an unexpected concession that it takes her by surprise -- she turns to him, and gives him a small, soft smile. It's strained somewhat, as is every part about her when Wismuth is touched upon, but she appreciates the unexpected kindness all the same. "Thank you, Solas. I will try to remember it more." Part of her wants to reach out for him, but she's not so foolish as to think that would be welcome, or a good idea. Instead she nods, and makes to leave his side.

"I will see you around, then." For he wasn't going to escape her. Not again.

just gotta ignite the light and let it shine

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hey, when am i gonna remember that she only has one arm? not today, apparently.

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