[ The game they play is an idle one and Solas doesn't demand a response; he would much rather return to his books and his notes and bury himself in them until the sun has set and he is forced to crawl into his bed and waking dreams. He doesn't notice her smile - he has no reason to - and is instead fixated on the tame dragon that is draping itself all over his scribbles and scrolls.
How frustrating.
It's almost as though the dragon is something more like a cat than anything else and he watches, absently for a moment, before he leans back. The thing goes for his hand and he keeps still, lets the small thing take hold of his fingers and explore how the ice melts away. It's simple magic, he thinks, and yet the creature is so enchanted by it, as if it is something novel and strange. ]
I see. [ He smiles softly, almost gentle - he has never been particularly against showing and learning, and he sits forward as he summons ice to his hand and then lets it fall away again. ] It is just magic.
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How frustrating.
It's almost as though the dragon is something more like a cat than anything else and he watches, absently for a moment, before he leans back. The thing goes for his hand and he keeps still, lets the small thing take hold of his fingers and explore how the ice melts away. It's simple magic, he thinks, and yet the creature is so enchanted by it, as if it is something novel and strange. ]
I see. [ He smiles softly, almost gentle - he has never been particularly against showing and learning, and he sits forward as he summons ice to his hand and then lets it fall away again. ] It is just magic.