The night in the clearing is quiet, save for the gentle crackling of the fire that casts a warm glow over you and Solas. The earthy scent of elfroot fills the air as he holds the intricately carved pipe to his lips, inhaling slowly. He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the familiar herbal smoke, before exhaling a thin, wispy cloud that curls upward, fading into the stars above.

He holds the pipe out to you, his long fingers brushing yours as you take it. The touch, though brief, feels like a spark against your skin. His light violet-grey eyes linger on you, softened by the firelight and the calm night around you. Tonight, the usual guardedness in his gaze seems to have eased, leaving a hint of vulnerability you don’t often see.